MATTHEW SORTER 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 
 
 A STORY OF TO-DAY 
 
 By 
 GAMALIEL BRADFORD. Jr. 
 
 Author of " The Private Tutor," "Between Troo Masters," etc. 
 
 With a frontispiece in colour by 
 GRISWOLD TYNG 
 
 No wit, no he lf> like a woman s " 
 
 Thomas Middleton. 
 
 BOSTON & L. C PAGE 6- 
 COMPANY MDCCCCVUI 
 
Copyright, 1908 
 BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 ( INCORPORATED) 
 Entered at Stationers Hall, London 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 First Impression, March, 1908 
 
 COLONIAL PRESS 
 
 Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
 Boston, U.S.A. 
 
By?? 
 
 80 
 
 M555070 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 WILLIAM J. WOOD and his nephew, Dudley 
 Heath, were dining together at the Beacon Club 
 in Boston. Wood proposed to be the Republi 
 can boss of Massachusetts and United States 
 senator; and many thought his ambitions were 
 likely to be realized. He was a man of some 
 thing under fifty, with a clean-shaven face, light 
 hair and gray eyes, and a solid jaw. 
 
 It was about a month after the Presidential 
 election; and as Wood had just come back 
 from the capital, his talk naturally turned on 
 the prospects there. 
 
 " It s like sitting on a volcano," he said. 
 " Nobody can tell what may happen. People 
 that like sensations ought to live in Washington. 
 They ll get them." 
 
 Then he spoke of Massachusetts affairs, of 
 Governor Worcester, just elected for a second 
 term, who would certainly not stand again and 
 was Wood s rival for the Senate; of the lieu 
 tenant-governor, Graham, who had died since 
 the election. 
 
2 MATTHEW PORTER 
 
 6 Yes, Dudley," said the elder man at length, 
 " I ll put you in for Governor next fall." 
 
 Heath made no direct answer. " Why not go 
 up-stairs and have a smoke, if you ve finished? " 
 he suggested. 
 
 They went. When they were comfortably 
 settled in opposite corners of a huge sofa, 
 Heath resumed the conversation. " So you 
 think I should make a good governor? " 
 
 His uncle looked thoughtfully at the face of 
 the speaker, before replying. It was a hand 
 some face, but not a pleasant one. The fore 
 head, the dark smooth hair, the hazel eyes were 
 well enough; but the nose was coarsely prom 
 inent and the mouth was peculiarly cynical and 
 sensual, even in smiling. " No," answered the 
 Honourable William J. " You re the best gov 
 ernor in sight, from my point of view; but 
 you won t make a good governor, from any 
 body s point of view, till you cut out that sneer 
 and the make-believe of not believing in things. 
 You re cynical, and that never does anybody 
 any good least of all the owner." 
 
 Heath leaned back in his corner and smiled, 
 with more cynicism than ever. " You re not a 
 cynic," he murmured. " You do believe in 
 things. You ought to be in the church instead 
 of politics." 
 
 " I believe in myself," was the cool answer. 
 
 " I hope you don t expect me to." 
 
 Wood disregarded the interruption, and con 
 tinued. " I believe in other things, but that s 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 3 
 
 none of your business. At any rate, if there are 
 a few things I don t believe in, I don t go 
 around saying so." 
 
 "Do I?" inquired the injured nephew. 
 " My business is to make people feel that I 
 believe what they believe. I ve made rather a 
 success of it, I fancy." 
 
 " You ve got a sort of useful popularity. 
 There s no denying it. The public doesn t know 
 you as well as I do. Anybody would suppose 
 your face would tell the secret." 
 
 Heath murmured his thanks with entire im 
 perturbability. " It s a face that has fitted a 
 Massachusetts representative and senator pretty 
 well for several years. It will fit a governor, 
 don t you think?" 
 
 " Oh, yes. Any face will do that." 
 
 Both men smoked and were silent" for a little, 
 watching the comers and goers in the room 
 about them. Now and then they exchanged a 
 nod or brief greeting with a passer-by. 
 
 At length Heath recurred to the subject. 
 " Speaking of cynicism, there s Mat Porter. 
 Some say he s going to be governor." 
 
 Wood s hard jaw set harder. " That Porter 
 he s no cynic. He believes in himself and a 
 lot of other things beside. You could learn 
 something from him." 
 
 "Think so?" 
 
 " Well, no, I don t think so. But it would do 
 you good to try. He s a man we ve got to look 
 out for. He has ideas, and they re as danger- 
 
4 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 ous as dynamite. I never shall forget the way 
 he worked that factory sanitation bill through 
 the legislature last spring. The money and the 
 influence were all on the other side. But he had 
 his men hypnotized. We couldn t do anything 
 with them. If he gets up for governor, we 
 shall have to fight. He ll show whether your 
 smile will come off or not. But the Democratic 
 committee fellows will fight him as hard as we 
 shall. You know him, don t you? Up-country 
 chap? Came from Foxbridge, didn t he?" 
 
 The speaker had leaned forward and asked 
 his questions eagerly, but Heath did not find 
 the eagerness contagious and drawled his an 
 swer from the same quiet posture in the corner. 
 " Yes, I know Porter more than I want to. 
 We were classmates. But the Foxbridge people 
 wouldn t like to be called up-country. The 
 world revolves about them. No, Porter s no 
 cynic, just the sort of man you wish I were. 
 If I were, how you d sneer at me! His father 
 was a minister and I fancy it s in the blood. 
 The father s dead now and Mat lives with an 
 older sister. He s about my age, I suppose, 
 thirty-five or so. He s got a little money, stud 
 ied law and is good at it, but prefers politics. 
 He was a hypnotizer, as you say, in college, 
 baseball, debating, all that sort of thing. A 
 thorough athlete not heavy, but sound, all 
 bone and muscle, never done up. Not the Por- 
 cellian, Oh, no. But a fellow everybody 
 liked. Now he s in politics for ideas, as 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 5 
 
 you say; and a dangerous man, as you say; 
 and the Democratic committee fellows hate him, 
 as you say. But it wouldn t surprise me a 
 bit if he was too many for them and for us." 
 
 " And all we ve got to fight him with is you," 
 commented Wood, in a tone of discouragement. 
 
 " Yes, I m the only one in sight, as you 
 say. But then there are some things to be said 
 for me." Here the cynic sat up and put a shade 
 more animation into his manner. "I m a gen 
 tleman the real, dissipated, idle, swell article, 
 such as the horny-handed people like. I m 
 shrewd and know a trick or two, as you can t 
 deny. I can adapt myself to anything or any 
 body. That s one of the advantages of not be 
 lieving in anything, and it helps out, even when 
 one can t hypnotize. And then I like a fight. 
 I ve played football, and I ve played polo, and 
 I ve been to Cuba, and now I should like noth 
 ing better than a fair match with Mat Porter 
 -to a finish. It will wake me up. See? " 
 
 William J. Wood saw, and his spirits seemed 
 partially revived. " Know anything about Por 
 ter s ideas?" he asked. "What s he going to 
 spring on us, anyway? " 
 
 The prospective governor did not answer 
 until he had ordered a Scotch and soda, a liba 
 tion in which his uncle declined to share. 
 " Mat s ideas? That sort of thing isn t in my 
 line, you know. I never meddle with ideas of 
 any kind. I believe he wants to give the gov 
 ernor more power, says the legislature is an irre- 
 
6 MATTHEW PORTER 
 
 sponsible mob and would like to call it down, 
 rakes over the committee method of transacting 
 business, and talks about the Executive with 
 a big E doing something. Fancy it ! With 
 a score of governors on record who have done 
 nothing in such a beautiful way and with so 
 much credit! " 
 
 " Why, he s a crank," exclaimed William J., 
 in utter disgust. 
 
 " Oh, no, he believes in things, that s all." 
 
 " Bosh ! A man can t work politics with such 
 notions as that." 
 
 " But you see he s a hypnotizer, as you justly 
 pointed out. A crank who can hypnotize is the 
 kind of man that does the biggest things and 
 makes the other fellows look lively." 
 
 Wood uttered no response to this, but sat 
 back in his corner, buried in smoke and thought. 
 Perhaps he wished now that he had tried a little 
 of the comforting beverage which his nephew 
 was sipping leisurely. 
 
 " We ve got to get down to business," he 
 murmured at last. " And it can t be too soon. 
 Is this Porter boom really started?" 
 
 Heath shook his head and sipped. " Don t 
 know," he said. 
 
 " We don t want to start it for him. But 
 we ll watch out, and when the time comes, an 
 editorial or two will help danger of revolu 
 tionary ideas, record of the old party for sta 
 bility, people should be cautious about trusting 
 new men and their experiments. We must get 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 7 
 
 the papers into line early especially the inde 
 pendent ones." 
 
 " Sounds feeblish to me," suggested the sym 
 pathetic nephew. 
 
 Wood paid no attention to this, but fell again 
 to his reflections. " Of course there s the possi 
 bility of fixing him," he began once more. 
 
 "Who? Porter?" snapped Heath. "Oh, 
 no, there isn t. How often must I tell you that 
 he believes in things? " 
 
 " Is there anything he believes in more than 
 in a ten-thousand-dollar salary? " 
 
 " Cynic! And you accuse me of not believ 
 ing in human nature!" 
 
 Yet again the Republican leader dropped 
 back into the vast abyss of contemplation. 
 When he emerged, it was with another idea, 
 though his manner did not indicate great con 
 fidence. "You said he wasn t married?" 
 
 " No. Lives with his sister." 
 
 " Sometimes the best way to get at that sort 
 of man is through a woman." 
 
 " Sometimes," agreed Heath, non-commit- 
 tally. 
 
 " A woman like Nellie Fleet, you know," 
 Wood continued, in a tentative tone. " She 
 played the very devil with the legislators." 
 
 "Wouldn t do at all. She couldn t touch 
 him not his kind." 
 
 " No? " was the disappointed answer. 
 That s a pity. He must be very particular." 
 
 " He is." 
 
8 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " By the way," said the uncle, taking up the 
 thread again, after a moment, " haven t I heard 
 that he and you were sweet on the same girl? " 
 
 " You may have." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 We are still sweet on her, in your pleas 
 ant phraseology." 
 
 " Now that s curious. Isn t there something 
 to be done with him that way? That Ferguson 
 girl, isn t it? Can t she persuade him out of his 
 nonsense? There s nothing in the world like 
 a woman to do it." 
 
 " Just so." Heath seemed to take more in 
 terest now. He sat up and finished his whiskey 
 and threw away his cigar. " But you see, I 
 want the Ferguson girl myself." 
 
 " Surely you don t believe in love, at your 
 age," sneered Wood. 
 
 " Not a bit of it. But I believe in money. 
 Her father s got a pot of money, with all his 
 electric roads and stuff, and she s the only child. 
 And then I want to beat that fellow Porter. 
 I went into this fight before the governorship 
 question was dreamed of and I m bound to win 
 out." 
 
 " All right. I wouldn t disturb your love- 
 affairs. It s a pity to destroy the few illusions 
 you ve got. But your cousin, Miss Bucking 
 ham, has money. At one time I thought you 
 were after her. She must be a finer woman, I 
 should say." 
 
 Heath half -closed his eyes and appeared to be 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 9 
 
 dwelling on a mental comparison. " Oh, yes," 
 he agreed slowly. " She s a finer woman. No 
 doubt about that. Too fine for me. Too fine 
 for any one. She walks with her head in the 
 air. A man can t touch her." 
 
 "I see," said the uncle with a nod. "It s 
 natural enough. A woman of thirty she 
 must be that, I suppose? who s had her own 
 way and millions for ten years, isn t likely to 
 make a model wife." 
 
 " I d risk that. Margaret Ferguson won t 
 make a model wife nor I a model husband. 
 But Viola won t make a wife at all for me, 
 at any rate." 
 
 " She s a wise woman. How does she live? 
 What does she do? Play bridge or slum? " 
 
 "Neither. She has a salon. Fancy it! In 
 Boston! She has a crowd of what she considers 
 Bohemians guaranteed strictly virtuous 
 women who sing and paint and play and that 
 sort of thing high art, you know. That idiot, 
 George Buckingham, is her factotum. She 
 doesn t sing, nor play, nor paint herself con 
 siders herself above it, I imagine. But she s 
 a patroness of the Muses. Such Muses! She 
 scorns bridge and slums both. Won t that do 
 for her? " 
 
 Wood made no answer, but once more be 
 came absorbed in thought. Heath lit another 
 cigar and looked at the ceiling. There were 
 various other groups in the room, laughing and 
 chatting; but no one seemed disposed to disturb 
 
10 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 the uncle and nephew in their quiet corner, 
 though now and then a curious glance was cast 
 in that direction. 
 
 " How would she do for Porter? " suggested 
 Wood at length. 
 
 "Viola? Oh, Lord!" And Heath laughed 
 his silent, unpleasant laugh. 
 
 " Why not? He s a minister s son, you say, 
 brought up in the country, probably knows 
 nothing about that kind of life. Let her draw 
 him in, sing to him, play for him, paint for him 
 or get others to. Give him things to eat and 
 drink. Get a lot of pretty girls fluttering 
 around him strictly virtuous, as you say. 
 He d lose his grip on his ideas just a little, 
 just a little more, all the time." 
 
 Heath continued to gaze at the ceiling, but 
 his laughter had faded and given place to medi 
 tation. 
 
 "Then," Wood continued, "it won t be all 
 what she does to him, but what we can do to 
 him. Some of our noble, independent papers 
 will be so grieved to hear that the once promis 
 ing hero of Democracy is coming into contact 
 with associations which aren t good for him. 
 And the Republican sheets will be delighted 
 that he is getting civilized and that the Demo 
 crats have at last chosen a man who is honoured 
 by the society of our best citizens. I see a lot 
 in this. Doesn t your cousin love you enough 
 to do you such a small favour? " 
 
 " She doesn t love me at all." The speaker 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 11 
 
 was leaning forward now, with his head between 
 his hands, thinking over the proposition. 
 
 " Oh, yes, she does." 
 
 " No, she doesn t. But she hates Democrats 
 and radicals and the people generally. She s an 
 aristocrat to her toes. She might take to the 
 idea of converting him, you know, educating 
 him, reforming him. She has a lot of that sort 
 of stuff in her, if it s put to her right." 
 
 " And you re just the man to put it to her 
 right," exclaimed the gratified intriguer. 
 
 " Thanks. No doubt you could do it better; 
 but I suppose it would come from me more 
 naturally." Then, after a moment of silence, 
 which his uncle did not venture to interrupt, 
 Heath added: "Has it occurred to you that 
 she might take it into her head to marry him? " 
 
 "Thunder! No!" The ejaculation was loud 
 enough to attract the attention of several mem 
 bers of the nearest group; but the speaker low 
 ered his tone, as he asked, " Would she? " 
 
 " I should say not, if a woman didn t always 
 marry the man you knew she wouldn t." 
 
 It was the uncle s turn to reflect again, with 
 a shadowed forehead; but it cleared at length. 
 " And if she did, how could we ruin him more 
 surely? What is ruin for a poor, ambitious 
 radical with ideas, but to marry a haughty, lux 
 urious aristocrat, who will make him throw over 
 his followers, and run after her whims, and 
 dance to every tune she chooses to play? Let 
 her marry him." 
 
12 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 But Heath was doubtful still. " Think what 
 he could do with her money! " 
 
 "Nonsense! You re jealous already. Think 
 what the money would do with him! We must 
 take some chances. Wouldn t the Democracy 
 of Massachusetts mistrust a man who was wal 
 lowing in the inherited accumulation of the capi 
 talists? I ll undertake to make them mistrust 
 him, if the unexpected should occur. Go at the 
 thing, will you? You can t begin too soon." 
 
 So the astute politician continued to combat 
 his nephew s objections with increasing energy, 
 until Heath at last agreed to see Viola and 
 sound her. That could do no harm at any rate. 
 
 " Naturally," said Wood, " there s no use in 
 showing her the whole hand: Flatter her. Per 
 suade her that she can save the party and the 
 state by getting the kinks out of this fellow 
 and making him run in harness. He might be 
 a good Republican, if he could get rid of his 
 
 nonsense." 
 
 " And his honesty," Heath suggested. 
 
 " But you needn t point out to her," Wood 
 went on, " that it will be just as useful to us 
 to have him associate with her, whether she con 
 verts him or not." 
 
 " I admit I m a cynic," interrupted the young 
 man; " but I m not a fool. Leave me to man 
 age this my own way." 
 
 Thereupon the two rose and mingled with 
 their fellow clubmen. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 NATHA^T A. FERGUSON was a man of business 
 and nothing else. He was born of poor and 
 not exceptionally honest parents in the little 
 village of Foxbridge. The poverty he had 
 managed to shake off. The lack of honesty 
 was an ingrained inheritance and stuck by him. 
 He had no especial education, but his mind 
 needed none for the use he made of it. At 
 thirty-five he was a thriving cotton broker. At 
 fifty-five he was a millionaire, interested in the 
 Shoe String Trust, and half a dozen other 
 trusts, and particularly interested in electric 
 transportation. He was a short, smooth, slip 
 pery man, with black hair and moustache, turn 
 ing gray, and bright, brown, shifty eyes. His 
 wife was dead, and had been dead so long he 
 had forgotten her. 
 
 A few days after the hatching of the Wood- 
 Heath conspiracy, Ferguson and his daughter, 
 Margaret, were receiving a call from Porter in 
 the heavily magnificent parlour of their heavily 
 magnificent Commonwealth Avenue mansion. 
 The two men talked, while Margaret leaned 
 back on a sofa and every now and then sup 
 pressed a yawn. 
 
 13 
 
14 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " So you mean to go on devoting your life 
 to politics? " asked the gray-haired stock ma 
 nipulator. 
 
 " I do," was the eager answer. " Every 
 ounce of energy I have is going into them, so 
 long as I live and see as clearly as I do now 
 what I want to accomplish." 
 
 " Then you re in it to do good? " 
 
 " I like the fun and I m ambitious. Do you 
 think a man is worth much who isn t? But I 
 believe our system of government needs to be 
 made over, in the state, and in the nation, too ; 
 but the state is what I m interested in. People 
 think democracy is a failure. It s government 
 by legislature that is the failure. You can t 
 run a business by a legislature. You can t 
 command an army by a legislature. Macaulay 
 says : Armies have conquered under good gen 
 erals. Armies have conquered under bad gen 
 erals. No army ever conquered under a deba 
 ting society. The remedy, one remedy, at any 
 rate, for the evils of our government, is to give 
 the governor more power, and more responsi 
 bility. Two terms in the legislature have con 
 vinced me of that. The governor should be 
 represented in the legislature and stand for the 
 state there. Now, one man stands for Prov- 
 incetown, another for North Adams; one for 
 Northfield, and one for Springfield. Who 
 stands, or sits, or cares for Massachusetts? " 
 
 " And you mean to be governor, with more 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 15 
 
 power, and care for Massachusetts? " was the 
 mildly sarcastic suggestion. 
 
 " I mean to try." 
 
 " These are Marston s ideas, aren t they? 
 Didn t his father write a book about them? " 
 Ferguson continued. 
 
 " Certainly. I don t deny it. Two people in 
 Foxbridge have been the making of me: you, 
 Mr. Ferguson, with your advice and sympathy 
 in practical matters," as he .said this, he 
 looked at Margaret, though he addressed her 
 father, " and Mr. Marston with his political 
 ideas. He s a man who thinks and sets others 
 thinking, though he cannot act himself. It was 
 he who made a Democrat of me. Not that he 
 feels or I feel that as a party the Democrats 
 are any better than the Republicans. It is six 
 of one and half a dozen of the other, so far as 
 present aims and methods go. But you can t 
 accomplish anything except through the party 
 system, and we think that the old Democratic 
 ideas, which were unnecessary in Jefferson s 
 day, are just the right ideas now." 
 
 Margaret sat quiet in her corner and coolly 
 gauged the speaker s eagerness. She noted the 
 firm poise of the head, the compression of the 
 thinnish lips, the enthusiasm of the open gray 
 eyes. But there was no sympathy in her tone, 
 when she uttered a sharp comment at this point. 
 " I don t think I should want to get my ideas 
 from Mr. Marston, or from anybody, second 
 hand." 
 
16 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Don t we all get our ideas second or third 
 or thirtieth hand from some one? " urged Por 
 ter, more as a plea than as a protest. " The 
 thing to do is to make them thoroughly our 
 
 own." 
 
 But Margaret s father was less interested in 
 the personal than in the general aspect of the 
 discussion. "So you want to return to State 
 Rights," he said. " I should call that a back 
 number of the worst description." 
 
 " I don t think so. The strength of our 
 government ought to be in the just balance of 
 state and nation. What has ruined all republics 
 in the past? Centralization. Here we have a 
 set of wheels within wheels, which is a sure pro 
 tection against centralization, if we use it 
 rightly. But we let the state go and think only 
 about Washington. After all, what has the 
 ordinary citizen to do with Washington? He is 
 educated by the state, he is married by state 
 laws, does business by state laws, pays taxes to 
 the state, and has the state s license to be buried. 
 Yet when we carry on a campaign for state 
 governor, the chief things we discuss are the 
 tariff and the currency, which are national af 
 fairs and do not belong to the state at all." 
 
 " That simply shows that centralization is 
 what we re bound to have," urged Ferguson, 
 with his smoothly unctuous, good-natured per 
 sistence. " Those old ideas were good enough 
 for farmers days, when each state was a little 
 country by itself and it took a week to get from 
 
MATTHEW f PORTER 17 
 
 Boston to Xew York. We re all one country 
 now. The man who lives in Boston marries a 
 wife in Xew Orleans and does business in San 
 Francisco. If he wants to get a divorce or 
 form a new corporation, it s absurd that he 
 shouldn t have the same Federal law for all 
 three places." 
 
 " If that s the case." answered Porter ear 
 nestly, but very courteously, " the sooner we 
 get rid of the state organizations the better. 
 Don t you see, as it is now, all these immensely 
 important functions are left to the states and are 
 managed by the states? Yet public attention 
 is wholly fixed on Washington. Xo glory, no 
 credit is to be got by a life devoted to state 
 politics. The legislators are either men whose 
 one thought is to get to Washington or who 
 only care to use their term of office to fill their 
 pockets. And all our most important affairs 
 are managed in the dark by a corrupt and mis 
 chievous lobby, while the newspapers are full 
 of the far-away doings of the President and 
 Congress. If we are to be governed from 
 Washington, let us be governed from Washing 
 ton, and get rid of the old arrangements alto 
 gether. But we all know that that can never 
 be. And if we are to have state governments, 
 and to trust them with the dearest interests of 
 our lives, let us make them real, serious things. 
 Let us drag great measures out from dark com 
 mittee-rooms and spidery lobbies and put them 
 into the hands of a strong executive. Let him 
 
18 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 be responsible at every step, under free and full 
 discussion, to the watchful criticism of the legis 
 lature. Then each man in that legislature will 
 be eager to distinguish himself in debate and to 
 thrust himself and his friends, by honest serv 
 ice, into executive office. But you ll think I m 
 making a campaign speech." 
 
 Ferguson smiled his smooth smile, behind 
 which, as Porter well knew, there was little com 
 prehension and no conviction. " And a very 
 good one. Only campaign speeches don t 
 amount to much, at the best. These things 
 sound well, but we all know they aren t prac 
 tical. Even supposing you get elected on re 
 form ideas, can you do anything? Look at 
 those other reform governors, Folk in Missouri, 
 La Follette in Wisconsin, Garvin in Rhode Is 
 land. What a fuss was made about them and 
 what did they do? " 
 
 " But," urged Porter, " they had no general 
 principle. They simply wanted to reform 
 things, without any special idea as to how to 
 set about it." 
 
 Still the unctuous smile. " Politics want a 
 business head, not ideas, nor principles, nor 
 theories." Then the smile continued, with an 
 attempt at real warmth of sympathy. " Mat, 
 I ve known you from a boy and I m sure you 
 believe I take an interest in you. Give the 
 thing up. No Democrat can make good in 
 Massachusetts for any length of time. You ve 
 had a fine training at law. Stick to that. I ll 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 19 
 
 find work for you. Then, when you re a little 
 older and better off, slip quietly into politics 
 again on the right side and you ll do something. 
 You think it over and talk with me later." 
 
 With this sage advice the capitalist withdrew 
 his sleek urbanity and left his daughter to do 
 the honours. 
 
 It was evident that Porter, for the moment, 
 thought no more of politics. " I have tried 
 twice before to find you," he began. " As soon 
 as I heard you had got back, I came." 
 
 " Why were you in such a hurry? " was the 
 unsympathetic response. " You haven t inher 
 ited a fortune? " 
 
 * You know why," was the quiet answer. 
 
 She took no notice of this, simply leaned back 
 in her corner, opened and shut her fan once or 
 twice, and yawned slightly. 
 
 "Was Mexico worth seeing?" Porter went 
 on. 
 
 " Hardly enough so to make conversation. 
 There were the usual bad hotels and vulgar 
 Americans and shops full of nothing." 
 
 " And the Aztecs and Montezuma? " 
 
 " My friend," answered the young lady, with 
 a trifle more energy, " I don t want to talk 
 about Mexico. If it is for that that you have 
 called to see me three times is it? do not 
 call a fourth." 
 
 " Mexico is no more interesting to me than 
 it is to you." 
 
 Then why recur to it? " Here she sat up 
 
20 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 and spoke more gently and suddenly became 
 the Margaret Ferguson he had known and loved 
 so long. Even in her gentleness there was 
 something false and he half felt it. The slow 
 veiling of the rich brown eyes by their long 
 dark lashes, the warm flush over the dark, soft, 
 peach-soft cheeks he knew that the owner 
 was perfectly conscious of these charms and past 
 mistress in the use of them; yet they charmed 
 him, as they had so often done others. " Let s 
 talk about you, Mat," she murmured, speaking 
 in soft, broken tones. " I d rather talk about 
 you than about Mexico. Tell me all your plans. 
 Do you know, I can t help thinking papa s 
 right? These politics are such small work. 
 You ve got it in you to do big things. Stick 
 to law law and business. Papa will make a 
 place for you that will be worth while. By and 
 by you can go into politics with money and 
 position behind you and do something." 
 
 But his gray eyes became more earnest with 
 the fervour of protest. " Politics are not small, 
 as I look at it. They re big, the biggest thing 
 in the world. By and by? And I am thirty- 
 six now. What does by and by mean for me? 
 My ideas are ripe, I ve got a grasp on the party, 
 I m strong and full of courage. Why should 
 I give the best of me to business, when, even if 
 I succeed, the taint of it is likely to hang 
 around me and clog me in everything I under 
 take? No, now is my time or never. And, 
 Margaret, I believe in my star. Do you believe 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 21 
 
 in it? Caesar believed in his, Napoleon believed 
 in his. I m not a Caesar or a Napoleon; but 
 my star is not a vague, indifferent lustre in 
 heaven, twinkling and gone. My star is my 
 idea. If I don t rise by it, some other man will. 
 If I can get the governorship of Massachusetts, 
 I will make the United States and the world 
 look on at what I do. Margaret, do you think 
 I brag? You ve known me for twenty years, 
 do you think I brag? It isn t myself I believe 
 in, it s my idea." 
 
 No, she did not think he bragged. And even 
 her cold heart, the heart of a ripened, selfish 
 woman of the world, beat more quickly under 
 the inspiration of his enthusiasm. But she was 
 her father s daughter, hardened in sceptical dis 
 trust of ideas and people with ideas; and she 
 did not answer. 
 
 * You know me, Margaret," he went on. 
 His eyes were softer and changed their enthu 
 siasm for passionate tenderness. He hesitated 
 a moment, then came over and sat beside her 
 on the sofa. * You know me, Margaret. Will 
 you take my word for this future and share it 
 with me, its struggles and disappointments, its 
 success and glory? " 
 
 Again she made no reply. Did the drooped 
 eyelids mean modest shyness or a cold balancing 
 of chance? 
 
 He could not tell; but he went on, and the 
 passion in his voice grew with the doubt: " It 
 is ten years since I began to love you, Mar- 
 
22 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 garet. You were eighteen then. Before that 
 I had thought of you as a child, and merely 
 changed laughter with you while I waited in 
 your father s study. It was one evening in 
 June I remember it so well probably you 
 don t. Your father wasn t at home and you 
 were sitting on the piazza. I had come in my 
 canoe and I asked you to go out a little while. 
 I can see you now, leaning back with the low 
 sun streaming through your hair. I began to 
 love you then, I have loved you ever since; but 
 you are rich and I am poor. I have been 
 ashamed of my love. Now, this autumn, while 
 you were away, I made up my mind I would 
 speak. I feel that there is at least a chance 
 of my having something besides love to offer 
 you. Margaret, will you take it? " 
 
 Still, for a little time, she kept her thoughts 
 covered behind the drooped lids; but at length 
 she spoke quietly and coldly. You tempt me, 
 Mat. I don t think you brag; but I think you 
 may be deceived as to your future." 
 
 He was hurt. " And my love is nothing? " 
 he asked. 
 
 "Oh, love!" she answered, and her eyes 
 opened now, almost with wonder. " Why, yes, 
 I love you I think I do. But at twenty- 
 eight there are so many things one thinks of 
 besides love. If you had talked to me about 
 love that night you speak of on the river 
 you see it would have been different." 
 
 "It is odd," he murmured, with a touch of 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 23 
 
 bitterness. " When we are young, and have the 
 future before us, we don t trouble ourselves 
 much about it; but the less, we have left, the 
 more we weigh it when we make our decisions." 
 
 " Just so." Her agreement was businesslike, 
 without any bitterness at all. " The trouble is, 
 Mat," she went on, " these are all dreams and 
 I m afraid you re a dreamer. I m not never 
 was. And then you re on the wrong side. How 
 do you expect to do anything with the Demo 
 crats? Supposing you were a Democratic gov 
 ernor, what sort of people should I have to re 
 ceive and flatter and coax and wheedle 
 their coarse Irish voices in my drawing- 
 rooms? Oh, no, it s quite impossible." Then 
 she turned to him and raised her eyelids just 
 enough to give him a glimpse of the dim, soft 
 pupils under them. " Mat," she said, with the 
 wonderful seduction that came to her when she 
 desired it, " Mat, you say you love me. I love 
 you and I think you re a big man with lots of 
 power. But you ve started wrong. Give it 
 up. Say you ll give it up. Go into some line 
 where your power will tell now, and the rest 
 will come afterwards." She laid her hand 
 lightly on his. " What if I were to say I 
 would marry you, if you gave this up, but other 
 wise I couldn t risk my future on a gam 
 bling venture? " 
 
 The eyelids drooped again and it seemed as 
 if her head were almost ready to droop also 
 on to his shoulder. His fingers pressed hers un- 
 
24 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 consciously, but for a long time he made no 
 reply, and the agony of the struggle showed in 
 the contraction of his face. 
 
 " Margaret," he began slowly, " I won t say 
 you are cruel. How could I? But it is a cruel 
 position you have placed me in. For years 
 these two hopes together have made my life. 
 I have seen myself carrying out my ideas with 
 struggle and triumph and success, climbing up 
 and up and up over the heights, each resting- 
 place bringing a wider view and a more ex 
 tended usefulness. And always you have been 
 at my side, sharing my triumphs, adding to 
 them the grace and perfection that you alone 
 know how to give. How can I separate the 
 two things? How can I have courage or hope 
 to succeed without you? And what should I 
 do, even with your love, if the whole fabric of 
 my life is torn away? " 
 
 " Choose," she whispered, leaning nearer to 
 him so that her breath warmed his cheek. 
 
 " Must I choose? " was his hoarse answer. 
 "Why do you force on me the alternative? 
 Cast in your lot with me. Risk something. 
 There is no risk. I shall succeed. I will suc 
 ceed. Or if I do not " 
 
 " No," she said, more loudly and haughtily, 
 " I will not be the wife of one who has failed 
 or even who may fail." Again she melted and 
 leaned still closer, and put into her voice all 
 the wooing softness of a summer night. 
 " Choose, choose. I want to hear you choose." 
 
MATTHEW <PORTER 25 
 
 But what was best in him rebelled and con 
 quered, for the moment. He shrank from her 
 just a little, so that she drew her hand away. 
 Then he turned, and looking straight at her, 
 poured forth the torrent of his passion. " Mar 
 garet, I can t choose, I won t choose, all in a 
 moment like that. Think what it means to me, 
 take a week to think of it, a month to think of 
 it. And I will do the same. These political 
 ideas have become a duty, the deepest, strong 
 est, overmastering duty of my life. If I am 
 right, it means doing as much for my country 
 as Washington did, as Lincoln did. I can t give 
 it up. I can t give you up, Margaret, either. 
 I ve wanted you, wanted you for so many years. 
 You say you love me. Isn t that enough? I m 
 going now. I ll come back in a month, unless 
 you send for me sooner. Think of it all. Think 
 of it. And make up your mind to do what is 
 best for both of us." 
 
 She thought he would have clasped her in 
 his arms, have kissed her, half-closed her eyes 
 in expectation of it; but he did not, only took 
 her hand and wrung it violently, then rose and 
 went away. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 VIOLA BUCKINGHAM was a little over twenty 
 when her father died and left her a large for 
 tune, no obligations, and no near relatives but 
 her mother s aunt, Miss Tucker, who had kept 
 house for Mr. Buckingham for a long time. 
 After a good deal of indecision and several 
 years of travelling in different parts of the 
 world, Viola finally settled down with Miss 
 Tucker in the family mansion on Beacon Hill, 
 not feeling any desire for nearer association 
 with the more modern elegancies of the Back 
 Bay. She made some changes in the old house 
 to adapt it to her habits of living. The dining- 
 room and kitchen were transferred to the upper 
 story, with access by elevators; and the whole 
 back of the ground floor was turned into a 
 great music-room, with two pianos, an organ, 
 and every other convenience for recitals and con 
 certs. 
 
 Sunday evening Viola was sitting at one of 
 these pianos alone, idly running over half -re 
 membered airs, with no other light than the 
 dim gleam of a coloured lamp. As her mood 
 changed, the music changed. Now she sat up 
 straight, her tall figure swaying to some swift 
 
 26 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 27 
 
 scrap of a Moszkowski dance. Now she grew 
 more thoughtful and her reverie flowed into the 
 long passion of a Beethoven adagio. There was 
 no finish about her playing. It was sketchy, 
 impatient, imperfect; but she felt the music. 
 As to that there could be no doubt whatever. 
 
 Gradually the notes fell away from any def 
 inite sequence. There came an irregular chord 
 here and there. Then a hurried flutter of light 
 runs. Then a broken chord again. Then Viola 
 let her hands drop idly in her lap. It was rare 
 for her to be so completely alone, even on Sun 
 day, which she still preferred to reserve for a 
 rather old-fashioned quiet; and the solitude and 
 the darkness and the day led her to reflect 
 vaguely on the general tenor of her life. She 
 would be thirty years old in another month or 
 two. What was she doing with those years? 
 What had she done with them? She had 
 friends whom she loved dearly, who loved her, 
 and for whom she was able to do much. But, 
 after all, she was not the main element in their 
 lives. They were musicians, painters, sculptors, 
 writers, and their art was far more to them than 
 she. She had no art, or only all art. She had, 
 indeed, always maintained that the passive life, 
 the life of receptiveness, was enough, at least 
 in aesthetic matters, that there was something 
 vulgar about the impatience to create, some 
 thing obtrusive, assertive, which did not quite 
 square with the dignity of her aristocratic tem 
 per. Yet now suddenly she found herself won- 
 
28 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 dering whether that thirty years had been 
 thrown away, whether the next thirty would be 
 thrown away likewise. She would be glad to 
 do something in the world. Then she caught 
 herself up with disgust. Was she getting to 
 be just like the others, whose petty ambitions, 
 whose trifling jealousies, whose pitiful success 
 she had taught herself to look down upon with 
 Olympian contempt? 
 
 At that point she was interrupted by Dudley 
 Heath, who ushered himself into the room with 
 a cousin s easy ways. " Good evening, Viola," 
 he began, with much serenity. 
 
 Viola did not seem enthusiastic; and before 
 she returned his greeting, she stepped to the 
 electric-button and filled the room with light. 
 
 " You needn t do that, you know," he pro 
 tested. Yet when he saw how beautiful she was 
 in her long dark gown, saw the stately poise of 
 her small head with the black hair softly parted 
 over the low forehead, the deep, tranquil, dark 
 eyes, the strong nose and chin, the firm mouth 
 showing its perfect teeth in a half -smile, saw, 
 above all, the peculiar, tranquil grace and dig 
 nity of her figure, he added, " But, on the whole, 
 I m glad you did." 
 
 When they were seated in arm-chairs com 
 fortably near each other, Heath continued. 
 "Where s your flock? I expected to have seen 
 at least three heaven-born geniuses here, be 
 sides a dozen or so of the other kind. 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 29 
 
 " Your sarcasm is always so heavy, Dudley," 
 she answered, in a low, tranquil voice which per 
 fectly harmonized with her figure and which 
 those who knew her best had rarely heard her 
 raise. 
 
 " Sarcasm! The dozen of the other kind you 
 surely won t deny. As to the heaven-born, I m 
 no judge." 
 
 " None whatever," she agreed heartily. 
 
 But he was not easily snubbed. " Come," he 
 began again. Talk! You can, you know. 
 Tell me all about it. I haven t frequented 
 your seances this autumn. I feel out of place. 
 Is that natural phenomenon, your cousin 
 George, familiarly termed Flitters, still master 
 of the ceremonies? And that extraordinary 
 little vulgar fiddler, McCarthy, who astonished 
 me so much he really was heaven-born for 
 the fiddle and what a cad for anything else ! 
 And the girls Constance Weber hand 
 some enough to have been born in heaven and 
 just intelligent enough. The Chantrey girl, too 
 oh, but she has a tongue tell me about 
 them." 
 
 " You ve already told me about them all 
 there is to tell," was the peaceful reply. Then 
 she began to ask questions in her turn: " Poli 
 tics, Dudley, tell me about them what your 
 heaven-born genius is doing." 
 
 " If I were like you, you know, I shouldn t 
 tell you a word." 
 
30 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " But then you aren t like me." 
 
 "That s true. Mare s the pity. What do 
 you want to know about politics? " 
 
 Her manner, as she leaned back quietly, with 
 her hands folded, did not imply an ardent de 
 sire to know anything. Nevertheless, she an 
 swered him. The election of course it 
 pleased you? And I suppose you re to be at 
 least a cabinet officer or something? " 
 
 He shook his head. " My ambitions at pres 
 ent lie nearer home." 
 
 " Nearer home," she echoed, still with the 
 same languid attempt at interest, then added, 
 * To be sure, who told me that you were to be 
 the next governor? " 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders and made no re- 
 
 piy- 
 
 " It s true, then. I can t think, Dudley, what 
 you see in it. I wouldn t insult you by sug 
 gesting that it might be patriotism or a sense 
 of duty. I know you re too highly civilized to 
 care for that sort of thing. But what is it then? 
 Surely, there s no glory in being governor of 
 Massachusetts, with nothing to do but pardon 
 murderers and make after-dinner speeches. 
 And the people how can you bear to rub 
 elbows with the people? To flatter saloon 
 keepers and wheedle labour agitators and fawn 
 on grafters why do you do it?" 
 
 "Patience, O most serene haughtiness! 
 What if I were to say that I was driven to 
 moral suicide by your cruelty? I love you, 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 31 
 
 Viola, you know. You re one of the most beau 
 tiful women in the world, when you re full of 
 scorn like that and your nostrils broaden and 
 your deep, soft eyes flash. I d rather have you 
 than the governorship." 
 
 She waved his compliments aside with an 
 impatient gesture. " Bah! " she said. " Speak 
 
 sense." 
 
 "Sense!" he repeated; then, dropping his 
 lackadaisical manner, he went on. " It s all a 
 game, you see, and I play it because it takes 
 up time and makes one forget life, which is 
 unbearable when one stops to think about it. 
 The dirty people are nothing just pawns 
 and counters, which one moves and then 
 washes one s hands afterwards. The thing is to 
 fight, to fight I d much rather kill the dirty 
 people than fawn on them, but the fashion has 
 gone out, you know to fight and win and 
 then to begin fighting over again." 
 
 Yes," she agreed and for a moment dropped 
 back to her own reflections of half an hour ago. 
 Was life a better thing to use than to stop and 
 think about? Then she continued, with more 
 interest than she had hitherto shown : " But for 
 a fight there must be some one to fight with. 
 And the governorship in Massachusetts - 
 surely you don t expect any fight from the 
 Democrats? " 
 
 Heath was more alert than ever. " Ah, but 
 I do," he said. " Do you know Mat Porter? " 
 
32 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 No, she did not know Mat Porter. Her 
 manner implied that she did not wish to. 
 
 He went on to give her a brief sketch of 
 Porter s career, as he had given it to Wood. 
 Viola, indifferent at first, gradually came to 
 listen with some appearance of interest and more 
 of contempt. " To think," she broke out, if her 
 quiet, restrained speech could ever be said to 
 break out, " to think that anybody now-a-days 
 can really believe in the people and in govern 
 ment by them! Or doesn t he really believe in 
 it?" 
 
 " I m afraid he does." 
 
 " Afraid? " The scorn of generations of 
 aristocracy was piled into the one quiet word. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders in apology. " I 
 don t stand for the word. But I d rather he 
 didn t believe in his ideas. Somehow, the vot 
 ers, fools as they are, smell out a man s hypoc 
 risy, when he has it. This fellow s genuine and 
 dangerous." 
 
 " That makes it more interesting, of course," 
 said Viola thoughtfully. " I sympathize with 
 you more than I did." 
 
 Here was Heath s opening, yet he hesitated 
 even now to make use of it. Before he spoke, 
 he looked at Viola, watched her thoughtful 
 eyes and the grave power of her face, as she 
 gazed beyond him and beyond the four walls 
 about her at some absorbing picture of her 
 fancy. " I want you to do more than sym 
 pathize," he said at length. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 33 
 
 " What? " she began in astonishment. " I do 
 something? Win votes, perhaps, and wheedle 
 voters ? " 
 
 " Not voters the votee." 
 
 " I don t understand you." 
 
 " See here, Viola. It s just this. You say, 
 liow can this fellow believe in the people. He s 
 never seen anything but the people. He s coun 
 try bred, a minister s son, brought up with all 
 the old claptrap, not an idea later than the 
 middle of the last century. What he needs is 
 some one to take him into a new world, give 
 him society, give him art, music, manners, get 
 him out of the narrow rut he s been bred and 
 born in, show him indirectly the absurdity of 
 those old, quaint, popular notions, cut his claws, 
 in fact, without his knowing it. When he s all 
 changed that way, he won t be dangerous any 
 longer. And, Viola, you re the one to do it." 
 
 She had been listening intently, with her 
 eyes half -closed, an expression of wonder creep 
 ing over her face, and suddenly giving way to 
 disgust. Now she sat up straight. " I the one 
 to do it? Don t you know by this time, Dud 
 ley, that I don t like women who meddle in 
 politics, that I don t like democratic govern 
 ment and the rule of the people, that is to say, 
 the mob, and don t want to have anything 
 to do with it? " 
 
 " But that is just the very point," he urged. 
 "Do you suppose I like the rule of the people? 
 But Porter does. That is what I want you to 
 
34 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 cure him of. Infect him, oh, ever so little, with 
 your dislike of democracy. And don t do it 
 directly. Just spread your atmosphere around 
 him all those pretty girls with their art and 
 their music and their songs, and Flitters with 
 his nonsense. Why am I telling you how to 
 do it, Viola? You know how better than I or 
 any one. I don t ask you to do it for me. Do 
 it for your country, for your order, then. 
 You re a born aristocrat, just as I am. And 
 the Republican party is getting to be every 
 day more and more the party of the aristocrats. 
 I can say it to you, you know. Do it for your 
 own pleasure, if you like that better, just for 
 your own pleasure in taming a wild beast." 
 
 She had watched him, in deep thought, her 
 cheek resting on her hand, as he pleaded with 
 such earnestness as he was capable of. It was 
 some little time before she spoke. " Is he pre 
 sentable this a rival of yours? " 
 
 " Oh, surely a gentleman in the old, plain 
 New England way. I can t deny him that." 
 
 Again there was a pause, before she asked: 
 "And does he go into society at all? Know 
 any decent people?" 
 
 This time Heath answered with rather more 
 hesitation: "It is hard to say what you would 
 call decent people. He has always known the 
 Fergusons, his neighbours at home." 
 
 "The Fergusons!" Viola s tone showed no 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 " I said the Fergusons. You know them? " 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 35 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know them," she agreed. " I was 
 on the Nile with them. And now I think of 
 it you and Margaret Ferguson and Mr. 
 Porter why it s that Mr. Porter, is it? What 
 a singular coincidence! To tell the truth, Dud 
 ley, I should think Margaret Ferguson might 
 be better suited to him than to you." 
 
 Here Heath felt forced to plead his own 
 cause a little. " Come, Viola," he said. " I like 
 your aristocracy; but it isn t consistent. How 
 can you turn up your nose at Margaret Fergu 
 son and then keep company with the set you 
 have about you the McCarthys, and Chan- 
 treys, and the rest? Are they decent peo 
 ple?" 
 
 " They are artists," said Viola rather ab 
 sently. " With artists there is no question of 
 decency." 
 
 * That s very true," agreed her cousin, in 
 hearty sympathy. 
 
 " And I ve no objection to Margaret Fergu 
 son, except that I don t like her personally. 
 After all, perhaps she would suit you very 
 well." 
 
 Thank you so much." 
 
 " But about Mr. Porter," Viola continued, 
 still as if she were thinking of something else. 
 " About Mr. Porter. Yes, I ll see. And sup 
 posing I should feel interested to show my 
 patriotism in the singular fashion you suggest. 
 How shall I get at him? Will you bring him 
 to me? Or perhaps Miss Ferguson?" 
 
36 &CATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Flitters," answered Heath at once. " Flit 
 ters will know him. He knows every one." 
 
 Then the future governor was proceeding to 
 give some further facts about his rival s history; 
 but Viola interrupted. " No," she said. " I ve 
 heard enough about him for to-day. Talk 
 of something else anything else yourself 
 
 even." 
 
 So they talked of other things, family af 
 fairs social gossip indifferently ; and soon 
 after, Heath took his leave. As he thought 
 over the interview, he did not feel entirely sat 
 isfied. Wood was a clever man and the scheme 
 was a clever scheme. But he did not know 
 Viola. She was a clever woman and a woman 
 whose eccentric motions were as incalculable as 
 a comet s. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE chairman of the Democratic State Com 
 mittee, Robert N. Hinckley, sat alone in his 
 private office, looking over his extensive cor 
 respondence. It was a rather bare office and 
 rather dark, as its three large windows looked 
 only into a narrow court surrounded by high 
 buildings on all sides. The chairman s desk 
 occupied the space between two windows and 
 in the middle of the room was a mahogany table 
 with arm-chairs about it, suggestive of execu 
 tive committee meetings and profound delibera 
 tion. On the walls were portraits of Andrew 
 Jackson, William E. Russell, and Grover 
 Cleveland. Doubtless the list would have been 
 longer, if there had been more distinguished 
 persons whom all Democrats could have agreed 
 to honour. As it was, even Cleveland had been 
 removed and restored once, if not oftener. 
 
 Robert N. Hinckley was a short, stoutish 
 man, fifty years old, perhaps, of Irish descent, 
 with thick black hair parted in the middle and 
 slightly curling, a heavy black moustache, full 
 cheeks, and a full chin. He had got his present 
 position and hoped to get higher by thinking 
 first, always, and only of Robert N. Hinckley 
 
 37 
 
38 MATTHEW PORTER 
 
 and by saying the right thing to the right per 
 son at the right time. He was well aware that 
 these moderate and not uncommon gifts would 
 carry a man only just so far; but he was deter 
 mined to find out by experiment how far that 
 might be. 
 
 At present he was awaiting the arrival of one 
 or two prominent Democrats whom he had in 
 vited to discuss, in a perfectly informal man 
 ner, the political prospects. Mike Rooney ap 
 peared first. He was a blatant, red-faced 
 saloon-keeper from South Boston, who repre 
 sented Maloney, the would-be city boss, in state 
 matters. Maloney stuck to his own affairs, as 
 a general thing, and did not go near the State 
 House when he could help it. When he 
 couldn t, he sent Rooney. And Rooney, for all 
 his blatancy, was cunning and knew a few 
 things. He knew how to make a man talk in 
 that little back room of his. He knew South 
 Boston. He knew the true principles of de 
 mocracy: shout for old Ireland and fill your 
 pockets. He knew the would-be swell mem 
 bers of the state committee, for instance Robert 
 N. Hinckley, who had blacked shoes in his 
 youth and now had a house on the water side 
 of Beacon Street, knew they hated him and 
 were ashamed of him; and he enjoyed making 
 himself just as obnoxious to them as possible. 
 Yet for all his unprofitable knowledge, there 
 was a soft spot somewhere about Mike Rooney 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 39 
 
 such as you could never have found in the chair 
 man. 
 
 If Hinckley hated his colleague, he did not 
 show it, however. " Well, Mike, how goes it? " 
 he began, when his visitor was seated and had 
 accepted a cigar. 
 
 " Damn bad over in South Boston. No fun 
 an mighty little business." 
 
 " That so? Police bother you much? " 
 
 "Police! Huh!" It would be vain to at 
 tempt to express the scorn which Mike threw 
 into the exclamation. " Say, the police ll never 
 be any good till we get em into the City Hall 
 again where they belong. Ain t that right? " 
 
 " Quite right," agreed the chairman, always 
 mild. " And how are we to get them there? " 
 
 " Search me," said Mike, leaning back in his 
 chair, thrusting his feet straight out before him 
 and chewing his cigar, while he looked at the 
 ceiling. 
 
 " I ll tell you how," Hinckley continued in his 
 soft persuasive voice. " Get a Democratic gov 
 ernor and legislature." 
 
 ;< Where from? " inquired the saloon-keeper, 
 unencouraged. " Hell? " 
 
 The chairman smiled sympathetically. :< I 
 don t care where they re from. But I don t 
 think we need go so far perhaps partly from 
 South Boston. There s a change coming, Mike. 
 These Republicans have had it all their own way 
 long enough. It can t go on for ever." 
 
40 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " I dunno," remarked Mike, with much de 
 pression. " It s an awful strong graft they ve 
 got." 
 
 " So it is; but, after all, the strongest thing 
 about them is that they hang together. The 
 day when the Democrats pick out a good man 
 and all stand by and support him and show up 
 the Republican graft for what it is " 
 
 " It s a Sunday-school picnic to what the 
 Democratic graft d be," interrupted the cynical 
 South Bostonian. 
 
 " Nonsense, you re babes compared to some 
 of those gentlemen who have grown hoary in 
 it. And I tell you, Mike, when that day comes, 
 it ll be a good thing to belong to the Massachu 
 setts Democracy." 
 
 " All right, all right," was the unenthusiastic 
 rejoinder. " But before that they ll have auto 
 mobile hearses and I ll have had a ride in one." 
 
 There was a brief silence before Hinckley 
 again took up the thread. " Know anything 
 of Mat Porter over your way? " 
 
 Then Rooney pulled his feet under him and 
 withdrew his much-chewed cigar from his lips. 
 " Say, is he your man? " he bellowed. " Is it 
 him you re workin for? Do you think you re 
 goin to get all kind of Democrats to stand for 
 him?" 
 
 " What does Maloney say to him? " asked 
 the chairman unmoved. 
 
 " Maloney don t have nothin to do with state 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 41 
 
 politics." And Maloney s representative half- 
 closed one red eye. " It s my own idea I m 
 givin you and nobody else s. But that Porter 
 he s one o them honest ones. And you know 
 what that means. It means gettin your friend 
 in a tight place and then throwin him over. 
 Why, you can t tell what a feller like that ll do. 
 I ve watched him up at the State House. He s 
 always pushin for some notion or other that 
 nobody wants. Porter! " 
 
 " He s a very sincere reformer, I believe," 
 suggested Hinckley, with simple earnestness. 
 
 " Reform nothin ! " snorted Rooney in con 
 tempt. " Who wants reform? Sincere? Come 
 now, old man, you don t want reform nor Por 
 ter. What s this all about? " 
 
 The chairman smiled his gentle smile. " Then 
 you think he isn t just the candidate for South 
 Boston?" 
 
 ;t Well, I guess not, nor for North Boston, 
 either. An you know it. You re just workin 
 a great big bluff anyway. Why not me for 
 governor, hey? " 
 
 This brilliant suggestion was interrupted by 
 the entrance of another prominent Democrat, 
 somewhat different from either of those already 
 present. Tom Burke was a gentleman, that 
 very charming thing, an Irish gentleman. His 
 face was red and bluff, like Rooney s, but with 
 a different redness and a heartier bluffness. He 
 had a rich wife and was a fairly successful law- 
 
42 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 yer; but he could not let politics alone and went 
 at them with a simple vanity which rascals 
 played upon. 
 
 " Hello, boys," he said, shaking hands cor 
 dially, though it seemed that he and Rooney 
 treated each other with a certain mistrust, which 
 showed chiefly in exaggerated courtesy. " Got 
 the next governor all picked? Seems a little 
 early, doesn t it? " 
 
 " Mike here was just saying he thought he 
 could pull it off," answered Hinckley. 
 
 " Good. That s right. He could carry his 
 own ward anyway and that s more than some 
 of us could do." Burke removed his fur-lined 
 coat, as he spoke, and made himself comfortable 
 with one of Hinckley s cigars, which had a wide 
 reputation. " Well," he continued, " if there s 
 any good thing going let me into it." 
 
 " Of course it s early to talk anything serious 
 yet," began the chairman, in his slow, soft voice. 
 " But you can t start these things too soon. 
 We ve got to win out next autumn. Now that 
 Worcester s through and Graham s dead, the 
 Republicans have nobody but Heath. Heath s 
 a bright man. He s done some good work in the 
 senate and he has Wood behind him. But peo 
 ple don t trust him. I think we ve got a 
 chance." 
 
 " We have," nodded Burke in approval. 
 " And to win, we must have a popular man 
 .that will carry the party with him." 
 
 There was no disputing this; so for awhile 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 43 
 
 the three sat and meditated on it in silence. At 
 length Hinckley spoke again, to Burke. 
 " What about Porter? " 
 
 Burke s face lengthened. He looked at Roo- 
 ney and saw Rooney s open disgust. " Por 
 ter? " he repeated non-committally. " Are you 
 for Porter? " 
 
 " Are you? " 
 
 " Porter s a strong man. There s no doubt 
 about that. But I guess he ll get about as 
 many Republican votes as he will Democratic." 
 
 " That s right," agreed Rooney, with much 
 satisfaction. " Porter ain t no Democrat." 
 
 They do say," went on Hinckley, with the 
 utmost gentleness and as if he were asking in 
 formation rather than giving it, " they do say 
 he s got quite a following in the factory towns, 
 after what he did last spring." 
 
 Yes ; but you can t tell what he ll do next 
 spring. That s the trouble." 
 
 " He s got notions," grumbled Rooney. 
 
 " Ideas some call them," the chairman sug 
 gested, always softly and with a meditative air. 
 
 " I believe in ideas as much as any man," 
 Burke agreed, as if he had actually had such 
 things. 
 
 " Of course we all believe in them," Hinckley 
 went on. The only thing is, when a man gets 
 them, you can t tell just where they ll lead 
 him." 
 
 That s so. He may begin a good Demo 
 crat. But by the time his ideas are through 
 
44 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 with him, they may land him outside the party 
 altogether." 
 
 " Ideas are never through with a man till he s 
 dead," was the chairman s sententious comment 
 on this. " Once he hitches his cart to them, they 
 drag him along up hill and down, through 
 briars, mud, and everything. And it s apt to 
 be bad for those who ride in the cart." 
 
 "Then you ain t for Porter, after all?" 
 asked Rooney, making the practical deduction 
 that appealed to him. 
 
 "I? Oh, I m for the party and the man 
 that ll win. If the party wants Porter and will 
 back him up, Porter s good enough for me." 
 
 But Burke looked discontented. " I don t 
 trust him," he murmured. 
 
 "Whom do you trust?" inquired Hinckley. 
 apparently with a real desire to be told. 
 
 At this point Rooney, still practical, cut in 
 again. " Here s my candidate," pointing to 
 Burke, with a grin that was meant to be flat 
 tering and conciliatory. 
 
 "Bah!" said Burke. It was with just such 
 a " bah " that Caesar put aside the crown. " I 
 thought your candidate was Michael Rooney, 
 Esquire." 
 
 " Don t you know a joke when you hear it? " 
 
 "Which is the joke?" 
 
 Here the chairman took up the subject. 
 " Mike is right," he said. " There are a good 
 many Democrats that don t know what to make 
 of Porter. They d vote for him, if he was put 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 45 
 
 up. But they know you, Mr. Burke, and they d 
 follow you into the campaign with more con 
 fidence, I m sure. To tell the truth " 
 
 But just as Hinckley was starting on what 
 must surely have been one of the great adven 
 tures of his life, enter Pete Smith, the labour 
 leader, tall, square-headed, square- jawed, with 
 heavy forehead, thin, light hair, and frank blue 
 eyes. 
 
 After hand-shaking, Smith remarked, in his 
 dry, straightforward way: "The next cam 
 paign is all settled by this time, I suppose." 
 
 " No, we were waiting for you," answered the 
 chairman. 
 
 " All right, then I ll settle it. I believe Por 
 ter s the man." 
 
 No reply. Rooney thrust out his feet and 
 smoked at the ceiling. Burke looked down and 
 played with his watch chain. Hinckley gazed 
 at the speaker with an inscrutable air of quiet 
 attention. 
 
 " Well," went on the labour leader, after a 
 moment, " he doesn t seem to be your man." 
 
 We re for the party, not for any man," 
 suggested Hinckley, as he had done before. 
 
 " Is that so? Now I m for the party with 
 the right man to lead it." 
 
 " Don t think I m against Porter," Hinckley 
 went on quietly. " If the party wants him, I 
 want him. He s a strong man. Only perhaps 
 he s a little too strong." 
 
 " Can t be," was Smith s brief answer. 
 
40 XATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " See, Smith," interrupted Rooney, without 
 
 removing his eyes from the ceiling. "Porter 
 ain t no labour man." 
 
 " He s a Democrat, and so am I. I don t 
 believe in splitting up parties. Didn t Porter 
 do good work for labour on the factory bill last 
 spring?" 
 
 Yes, but next spring he may take a turn the 
 other way," suggested Burke, speaking for the 
 first time. 
 
 Smith knew perfectly well what Burke s as 
 pirations were and did not sympathize with 
 them. "I ll wait till he does," he said. "I 
 don t want a man to agree with me always, if 
 I believe he means right." 
 
 "Do you know what Porter does mean?" 
 asked Hinckley, with his inimitable expression 
 of a desire for useful knowledge. 
 
 " I m going to find out," was the frank an 
 swer. " Perhaps he may mean something I 
 can t stand for. But if he talks as straight as 
 I think he will, I ll vote for him and work for 
 him." 
 
 "He don t know what he means himself," 
 growled Rooney. "With that kind of feller 
 it s first one big word and then another, and 
 all the time it s Mat Porter and nobody else. 
 If you go in for Mat Porter, you re all right 
 and can have what he leaves. If you say a 
 word for yourself, he ll throw you over." 
 
 " Mr. Rooney puts it pretty strongly," re 
 marked Burke; "but there s something in what 
 
MCATTHEW PORTER 47 
 
 he says. Porter s got a lot of good ideas; but 
 he seems ready to follow them anywhere, 
 whether they lead away from the party lines or 
 not. You can t do anything with men without 
 parties." 
 
 " You can t do anything with parties without 
 men," was Smith s prompt rejoinder. " And 
 any man that is a man will follow his own ideas 
 and not some other feller s. I m glad to get 
 hold of a man that s got ideas to follow." Then, 
 turning abruptly to Hinckley, he added: " So 
 you re all against Porter, are you:" 
 
 But Hinckley was not disturbed. " As I said 
 before, we re for the party. If the party wants 
 Porter, we want him." 
 
 " We are the party," answered Smith in his 
 sharp fashion. " What we say will go, if we 
 say it together and loud enough. But I see you 
 aren t any of you ready to say Porter. Well, 
 I m not ready myself yet. When I ve found 
 out more about him and seen him and had a 
 talk, I ll let you know where I stand. I don t 
 see as I m doing any good here just now." 
 
 So saying, the labour leader took himself off. 
 
 The three who remained looked at each other, 
 somewhat discontented. 
 
 " Our friend Smith is apt to be in a hurry," 
 remarked Hinckley, with a gentle smile. 
 
 " In too damned much of a hurry," Rooney 
 growled under his big moustache. 
 
 " Of course Porter s a good man? " sug 
 gested Burke. Then there was a pause during 
 
4S XATTHEW SORTER 
 
 somebody might have mentioned that 
 there was a better. 
 
 As nobody did so, Burke, too, got up and 
 took his leave, with rather less cordiality than 
 he had shown on entering. 
 
 Booney followed him, after a word or two of 
 humourous disgust, exchanged with the chair 
 man. ** Say, old man, don t you think it might 
 as well be inc. after all?" 
 
 " Perhaps ft might. Mike," laughed Hinck- 
 ky, as he shook hands with his creditable fol- 
 I don t see but you d make as good 
 as any of them. At any rate, a man 
 
 rhere to find you. 
 Where?" asked the member from South 
 Boston, with a magnificent wink. 
 
 "Where the loot is," was the genial, jovial 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 HEATH was dining with the Fi 
 ing the earlier courses Porter s 
 kept out of the conversation by 
 tacit, consent. But with the good claret, 
 faded, and Heath suggested, imi&ig cynically: 
 " You should have asked our next governor to 
 mee~ me. 
 
 "% f T" ftaiT j^ 1 f* ^ * -_ _~ . . _ ,_ 
 
 j JLF. A ercfiBuu nnuDeo. IBHECOBK a QBBEBL 
 Then he answered: " Mat Porter? Poor boy. 
 
 He s making a fool of JnaMptf OF wflL if be 
 
 doesn t change his mind soon. Our next gov 
 ernor is sitting here now." 
 
 "Thanks awfully. His excellency prefers 
 light meat, if you don t mind. * 
 
 "Mat is a "good fellow," went on the ex- 
 cotton broker, with all his sweet benignity of 
 patronage. " But he isn t practical He s got 
 a lot of ideas from a man up in Foxhridge 
 just a literary man, you know, who never held 
 an office nor earned a dollar in his fife ideas 
 about state government and ad that. Xow a 
 young man can t make his way with ideas in 
 his pocket. They re as heavy as gold and as 
 useless as lead. A young man s got to adapt 
 
 a^ "\& "i * 9 ^ M "i___ 
 
 ^MBtff^ffT imipyt ti^ 3 iMMTli tii 2 SuVd* 
 
 in his mouth, fike TOO, Mr. Heath." 
 
50 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Heath bowed his acknowledgment of the com 
 pliments of Ferguson and Fortune. " You 
 adapted yourself," he said to his host. 
 
 " Well, yes, I did adapt myself. It s just 
 like getting through a crowd in the street. You 
 can t stand straight and square your arms and 
 drive right along to what you want; you ve got 
 to make yourself as thin as a postage stamp 
 and duck and twist and turn and slip through 
 holes where you d think a mouse couldn t pass. 
 Then by and by the road gets clearer and you 
 spread out a little." 
 
 " I can t see Mat shifting and turning," said 
 Margaret thoughtfully. 
 
 " No," answered her father, " he can t. And 
 that s where he is bound to fail. He has no 
 money, and a man can t start in the world as 
 it is nowadays and I don t believe it was 
 ever very different and do anything, unless 
 he has money. Of course, I don t think money s 
 everything in itself. There are other things 
 that are a great deal more than money." 
 
 "What things?" inquired Heath, in his 
 chilly fashion, while Ferguson paused for a 
 little dinner. 
 
 And Margaret echoed, with equal coldness, 
 " What things? Tell us, papa dear." 
 
 When papa was ready to resume the con 
 versation, he resumed it as if mildly horrified. 
 " What things? There s a frank cynicism 
 about your generation that wouldn t have suited 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 51 
 
 mine. I suppose you ve heard of such things 
 as honour and friendship and religion? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course," Heath answered, an 
 expression of profound enlightenment in his 
 manner. " I didn t understand that you meant 
 those. When you said other things that are 
 more than money, I supposed you meant more 
 amusing than money. I wanted to hear about 
 them." 
 
 Mr. Ferguson was silent for awhile. Con 
 ventions were an important element of his life. 
 They were desirable in one s self, convenient in 
 others, and in the ideal of a governor absolutely 
 indispensable. They might be occasionally vio 
 lated for profit, though never without regret 
 and apology. But to speak slightingly of them 
 was worse than wrong, it was foolish. Still, he 
 recognized that the coming age did things dif 
 ferently. And the coming age sometimes did 
 them very well. 
 
 By and by Heath returned to the subject. 
 "So you think Porter has mistaken his voca 
 tion? " 
 
 " No," Ferguson answered, with renewed 
 cheerfulness. " His vocation is law and he 
 couldn t have a better one. Let him stick to 
 it. With his brains there s money in law. 
 There s no money in the governorship, even if 
 he could get it." 
 
 " That s encouraging for me." 
 
 You want better things than money, don t 
 you? " 
 
52 MATTHEW PORTER 
 
 "Oh, yes, I forgot. Still, they do say that 
 some governors make money." 
 
 " Not in Massachusetts," murmured the mil 
 lionaire solemnly. " It can t be done here." 
 
 " Well, then, we ll be content with the better 
 things and let Porter have the money." 
 
 But Margaret wanted more part in the con 
 versation and she did not want to talk of Por 
 ter just then, so she introduced a little social 
 gossip which enlivened the dessert. 
 
 After dinner Mr. Ferguson went out and left 
 the young people alone in the cosy little recep 
 tion-room, with a dim light and the latter end 
 of a sea-coal fire. This was Margaret s ele 
 ment. She was too cold, too unresponsive to 
 shine in general society; but hi the twilight she 
 could put extraordinary meanings into her 
 voice. She herself could hardly have counted 
 up the number of men she had fascinated and 
 thrown over in that reception-room. But she 
 was nearly thirty now and the throwing-over 
 time was approaching an end. 
 
 As for Heath, he might be thrown over, but 
 he was hardly fascinated. He was over thirty; 
 and though he had money of his own, he wanted 
 more and any better things that were going. 
 
 The two sat in easy-chairs, side by side, fac 
 ing the fire. Margaret s hand rested carelessly 
 on the arm of her chair, and in a little while 
 Heath s hand rested on hers. Up to that time 
 they had not spoken, or not to the purpose. 
 
 At length Heath began, softly and absently, 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 53 
 
 as one does in the firelight. You ve heard of 
 Lincoln and Douglas, perhaps? " 
 
 " Lincoln and Douglas? " she repeated, with 
 inquiry in her tone. 
 
 " Yes, Stephen A. Douglas and Abraham 
 Lincoln." 
 
 " I have heard of Abraham Lincoln. Do you 
 think you resemble him? " 
 
 " Well, no, but I daresay Porter thinks he 
 does. You see, they both wanted to marry the 
 same woman, both to be Illinois Senator, and 
 both to be President of the United States." 
 
 " I know about the presidency," she an 
 swered, with mild interest. Who got the 
 woman? " 
 
 " Lincoln, too." 
 
 " And you think Mat resembles Lincoln? " 
 
 The hand rested on hers more heavily. I 
 think so? No. I don t think he ll get either 
 the woman or the presidency. But I thought 
 the analogy might amuse your idle hours if 
 you have any." 
 
 " I have no others." 
 
 Once more they watched the fire. " Just stir 
 it up a little, will you? " Margaret suggested. 
 
 He stirred it up. Then he sat down again, 
 with his hand in the same place and spoke once 
 more. " I think we might as well settle our 
 affairs, Margaret, don t you? " 
 
 Your affair, you mean?" She half with 
 drew her hand, but let it slip back. " Do you 
 want me to settle your affair? " 
 
54 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " It will be ours in the end, I hope." His 
 voice did not show much quaver of amorous 
 uncertainty. 
 
 " You think so? And do you really love me 
 so much? " 
 
 " Tongue cannot tell how much. The needle 
 is not attracted to the pole with more unerring 
 vehemence. Hunt up the most beautiful po 
 etry you can find, saturated with love, and 
 charge to my account. I ll stand for it." 
 
 She drew her hand away, sat up in her chair, 
 turned, and looked straight at him. " That s 
 all very well," she said. " You think I laugh 
 at love just as you do; but I like it all the 
 same. Every woman does. I want some one 
 to be attracted to me, like the needle to the 
 pole. I want some one to say poetry to me in 
 the moonlight. I want some one to love me, to 
 love me, to love me." 
 
 "Do you love any one?" he asked calmly, 
 half turning his face towards her, but not 
 changing his position. 
 
 " Not you, at any rate." She subsided again 
 into the bottom of her chair; but this time she 
 kept her hands in her lap. 
 
 " Any one? " he repeated in the same tone. 
 
 " I don t see that that makes any difference," 
 was her petulant answer. 
 
 " Perhaps not. And you think Mat Porter 
 loves you? " 
 
 "Don t you think so?" 
 
 " Get your father to sell all he has and give 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 55 
 
 to the poor, and then see if he does. It s the 
 only test." 
 
 To this she made no answer. 
 
 Then in a moment, Heath sat up in his turn 
 and began to speak more seriously. " I admire 
 Porter and at the same time I despise him. 
 He has the making of about half a man in 
 him or, if you like, two half men. He 
 doesn t know what he wants. He thinks he 
 wants to save his country and benefit his fellow 
 creatures and work a great reform for the good 
 of posterity. What he really wants, first and 
 foremost, is to benefit Mat Porter; and all 
 those other pretty little notions, excellent in 
 themselves, are a handy way of doing it. Now 
 I m working for Dudley Heath and I know it, 
 though I ve no objection to doing a good turn 
 for the country, too, if it comes right. It s the 
 man who knows what he wants who has a 
 chance of getting it, in this world." 
 
 " What do you want? " she asked, half with 
 unconscious coquetry, half as if she were think 
 ing of something else. 
 
 You," he answered, short and sharp, reach 
 ing over abruptly to catch her in his arms. 
 
 But she eluded him. " No," she said, with 
 perfect calmness, " not yet, not yet. Even the 
 man who knows what he wants doesn t always 
 get it as soon as he wants it." 
 
 " Ah, well," was the cynical reply. " I m in 
 no great hurry. Think it over. But don t be 
 fooled with the phantom of Porter s ambition. 
 
56 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 I m going to be the next governor of this 
 state. I ve got the whole strength of the Re 
 publican party behind me solid. And even the 
 little feeble machinery the Democrats have, 
 won t hear anything of Porter." 
 
 So he took his leave and Margaret stayed in 
 the big arm-chair by the fire, thinking. 
 
 When her father came home he attempted to 
 plead with her as Heath had been pleading. 
 " It s the chance of your life," he urged. 
 " Look at the way he s gone ahead. He s sure 
 to be governor. He s in with all the big men in 
 the state." 
 
 " Do you consider him a noble character? " 
 she asked. It amused her to tease her honoured 
 parent with these little ironies. 
 
 Her honoured parent never understood them. 
 " It isn t so easy to tell the noble characters. 
 They don t always put on the noble airs." 
 
 " No. And Dudley s airs are very noble, 
 aren t they?" 
 
 " What do you mean? Still thinking of Mat, 
 I suppose? " 
 
 " Perhaps I love Mat." 
 
 " Love! " said the honoured parent, as if the 
 waiter had handed him pinks instead of cauli 
 flower. 
 
 " Love, yes. Don t you believe in it? " 
 
 " Oh, if you love Mat, of course. But I ll 
 tell you, Margaret, if he marries you, he s got 
 to give up this governorship idea." 
 
 " Got to? " 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 57 
 
 " Yes, got to. That is, if he expects I m 
 going to give you anything to live on, and how 
 are you going to live as you re used to living, 
 if I don t? You know, as well as I do, that he 
 never ll be elected a Democratic governor, 
 with fads. How would you feel, to be the 
 wife of a man who s made himself ridiculous? " 
 
 " I shouldn t like it," she agreed cordially. 
 
 " Of course you wouldn t. Take my word 
 for it, you d better patch it up with Heath. 
 But if you must have Mat, get the nonsense out 
 of him. Have him here to dine and talk him 
 over. You know what I told him the other 
 day. He ought to stick to law for ten years 
 and make money and then go into politics. 
 That s the way to do something. He s a good 
 lawyer none better. I can get him a berth 
 in the law office of the road where he can go 
 right to the top." 
 
 " I m afraid that wouldn t suit him." 
 
 " If it won t, I don t think he ll suit me or 
 you. Will you? " 
 
 < I ll think it over." 
 
 Then the young lady retired for the night 
 and thought it over. And she thought it over 
 for many nights afterward. She did not share 
 her father s confidence that Porter might be 
 persuaded to give up politics. She knew her 
 lover too well for that. No, he would probably 
 persevere, no matter whether he failed or suc 
 ceeded. Could he succeed? What if she should 
 wait and see, should bid him come to her when 
 
58 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 he was governor, and not till then? But, once 
 more, she knew him too well. He wanted love 
 and what had love to do with such a cold 
 blooded proposition as that? It might end in 
 her losing him altogether and Heath also, with 
 the dreary perspective of old maidenhood loom 
 ing up in their places. Besides, as she had said 
 to Porter, a Democratic governor! And a 
 Democratic governor s wife! So her long de 
 bates usually ended where her father s sugges 
 tion had left her. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 TUESDAY was Viola s regular evening for the 
 gathering of what she called her family and on 
 the Tuesday before Christmas the assembly in 
 the music-room was almost complete. Under 
 the full glare of the electric light, a varied com 
 pany, mainly girls in gay attire, chattered and 
 laughed, one merry group shifting into another; 
 and the hostess, serene and stately, moved 
 among them all, listening, smiling, now and 
 then saying a quiet word which was welcome 
 to every one. 
 
 Miss Tucker, Viola s great aunt, seventy-five 
 years old, round and kindly, always as sleepy 
 as a cat, always knitting something white and 
 soft for a fair, nodded on a sofa in a corner and 
 would have slept, but Laura Wells and Flora 
 Chantrey were determined she shouldn t. Laura 
 was a journalist, dark, with blue eyes. She 
 gave a peculiar impression of having lost all 
 her illusions too young; but it may be she had 
 never had any. She was as brief and snappy 
 as one of her own write-ups. Flora, who sang 
 religious music Sundays and irreligious the rest 
 of the week, was longer, but just as snappy. 
 She had pale blue eyes, an irregular nose, a 
 
 69 
 
60 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 broad mouth, endless humour just a little cyn 
 ical. 
 
 " About these church fairs, Miss Tucker," 
 began Flora, " do you approve of them? " 
 
 Miss Tucker lifted her heavy lids with an 
 effort: " Approve of them? Why not? " 
 
 " They make a great deal of trouble, you 
 know," the soprano continued. 
 
 "Trouble? Do they? They never made me 
 any trouble." 
 
 " I should think knitting shawls two or three 
 hours a day all my life was a good deal of 
 trouble." 
 
 " Bless you, no, dear. It would trouble me 
 now not to knit them. And then at our fair 
 we see so many pleasant people." 
 
 " But don t they talk a good deal of scan 
 dal? " Flora inquired, as solemnly as if her 
 conversation were always confined to yea and 
 nay. 
 
 "Scandal?" Miss Tucker reflected. The 
 subject was serious. " Why, no, I don t think 
 I ever heard any." 
 
 But now Laura took a hand. "And the 
 gambling! They talk about bridge. When I 
 first went on the Star I used to write up fairs 
 sometimes. The way those deacons and elders 
 would run a raffle, and the voting contests, and 
 the mean little tricks to pile up a big vote. It 
 was a caution." 
 
 " Is that gambling? " asked Miss Tucker, a 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 61 
 
 trifle wider awake. " Why, I got a prize in 
 a voting contest last year myself." 
 
 "For the most popular old lady in town?" 
 Flora suggested. 
 
 " I never knew exactly what it was for." 
 
 " Depend upon it that was it," chimed in 
 Laura. " And in that case there didn t need to 
 be any politics at all about it." 
 
 Meantime Ruth Nelson was carrying on a 
 desultory conversation with Wingate, the mil 
 lionaire proprietor of the Boston Intelligencer, 
 who had inherited brains and money from his 
 father and from his mother a pair of great 
 brown eyes. Wingate had long been a friend, 
 and in the early days a lover, of Viola s. Now, 
 at thirty-four, he wanted to marry Ruth s 
 brown hair and soft, sweet dimples, and uncon 
 scious coquetry. He more than suspected that 
 Ruth would never marry him, even that she 
 cherished an absurd, romantic affection for the 
 extraordinary musical genius of that parentless, 
 penniless, mindless, mannerless young creature, 
 Eugene McCarthy. But Wingate was a steady, 
 loyal sort of person; and when he wanted a 
 thing, he tried hard and long to get it. 
 
 " Do you think Mr. McCarthy will play for 
 us to-night? " asked Ruth. 
 
 " I hope so if you do." 
 
 " Don t you? Don t you love to hear him 
 play? " Ruth s voice always had enthusiasm in 
 it and a peculiar husky quality left over from 
 
62 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 scarlet fever, which made her enthusiasm sound 
 even more breathless than it was. 
 
 " To tell the truth, playing, violin-playing 
 doesn t mean very much to me." 
 
 " Oh, I m so sorry for you." 
 
 Wingate was rather sorry for himself. 
 
 But the fair enthusiast continued the subject. 
 " And he s such a remarkable person, Mr. Mc 
 Carthy is. Never had any education at all, you 
 know." 
 
 " Yes, I ve noticed that." 
 
 " Don t be ill-natured, Mr. Wingate. Such 
 people as he don t need education. It s only 
 we common mortals." 
 
 The proprietor of the Intelligencer was com 
 pletely crushed and for the moment ventured 
 no further interruption. 
 
 " They re born to know everything they need 
 to know," she went on. " And we know so 
 many things we don t need at all. It must be 
 beautiful to live in a world of music all the 
 time, as he does, to dream music, to breathe 
 music, to eat music." 
 
 " Perhaps a little unsubstantial? " suggested 
 the more earthly lover. 
 
 " No, no. Those beautiful things are the 
 substance that really lasts. If we could only 
 keep our lives full of them all the time!" 
 
 " But, you see, we can t. There is so much 
 scraping and grinding and caterwauling all 
 around us." 
 
 " We ought not to listen to it. And don t 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 63 
 
 some wise people say that even the ugly sounds 
 harmonize, if we have music in our souls? " 
 
 " I don t know," was the slightly plaintive 
 answer. " I m afraid I haven t music in my 
 soul. I m not like McCarthy. And to tell you 
 the truth, I m rather glad I m not. For I 
 think these people who are always walking 
 about with their ears turned upward, listening 
 for celestial music, are apt to end by a fall in 
 the mud." 
 
 " I don t want to think you are a Philistine, 
 Mr. Wingate. Isn t it our duty to take care 
 of the practical for such people? To see that 
 the mud is dried and swept up before them? 
 I think we owe them that for the gift they 
 bring us." 
 
 " Perhaps so," murmured the Philistine, un 
 convinced. At the moment he felt that so far 
 from keeping McCarthy out of the mud, he 
 should be very glad to push him in and see him 
 flounder. 
 
 While Miss Nelson was delivering her eulogy, 
 the unconscious subject of it was talking to 
 Viola, to her cousin Grace Buckingham, the 
 soft, blue-eyed, golden-haired painter of minia 
 tures and delicate water-colours, and to Con 
 stance Weber, tall, dark, willowy, who looked 
 like Juno and had no intelligence to speak of. 
 Constance could play the piano with marvellous 
 technique, but music meant no more to her than 
 anything else under God s heaven. 
 
 I said McCarthy was talking, but he was not, 
 
64 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 not even listening. His squat, heavy figure was 
 humped awkwardly in a big easy-chair, and his 
 sparkling black eyes wandered to Ruth and 
 Wingate, while Grace was asking Viola ques 
 tions about George Buckingham, alias Flitters. 
 
 " Yes," said Viola, " I expect him to-night, 
 for the first time this season. He came back 
 from Europe three weeks ago and I ve seen 
 him once or twice; but last Tuesday he was 
 in New York and somewhere else the week 
 before." 
 
 " And he is the same as always, I suppose? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, George never changes. That is, 
 if you can say he s ever twice the same." 
 
 " No, of course not," Grace agreed. " That s 
 his charm. What a lot of new songs he must 
 have!" 
 
 " Songs? " interjected McCarthy, as if some 
 one had stepped on his toe. 
 
 " Yes," said Grace. " That rouses you, Mr. 
 McCarthy, doesn t it? Do you know George? " 
 
 " George? " 
 
 " George Buckingham." 
 
 " No, I don t know him. I thought you men 
 tioned songs." 
 
 " So I did. He sings them." 
 
 But Mr. McCarthy shrugged his shoulders, 
 as if George Buckingham s singing didn t in 
 terest him. And Constance at length entered 
 into the conversation, with her slow, deep voice: 
 "What did you call this Mr. Buckingham? 
 I never can remember." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 65 
 
 " Flitters," said Grace. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " How should I know. Because he flits." 
 
 "Flits?" 
 
 " Flits. From one idea to another. From 
 one mood to another. From one song to an 
 other." 
 
 Here Flora Chantrey, who had just joined 
 the group, and was leaning on the back of 
 Viola s chair, took up the strain: "From one 
 girl to another. Flit! Flit! Flit! Like a lazy, 
 gorgeous, sun-loving butterfly, who has nothing 
 else to do, as Flitters hasn t and plenty to 
 live on, as Flitters has. When the butterfly 
 comes, in his flitting, to a big, red, wide-open 
 rose, like you, Constance Weber, he will bal 
 ance himself on it, for a moment, with a lazy 
 sweep of his wings and then flit. You re 
 warned, Constance Weber." 
 
 Constance s big, dark eyes showed the puzzle 
 of her bewildered brain. But Viola interposed. 
 " Nonsense, Flora! George cares nothing 
 about girls, Constance, except to laugh and sing 
 with them, as he does with men, or by himself." 
 
 But it may be doubted whether Viola s re 
 buke was not as much intended to be fraught 
 with warning as Flora s outburst. 
 
 "Well, Flitters he is, at any rate," Flora 
 went on. "A sort of celestial fool he would 
 say so himself whose folly consists not so 
 much in not knowing as in not caring, a clown 
 of the old time, stolen from Fairyland to Bos- 
 
66 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 ton, and not out of place, either; for it is the 
 essence of creatures of that strain not to be 
 out of place anywhere. What is his latest 
 folly, Viola?" 
 
 " Hanks s suspenders," answered Viola softly. 
 What? " demanded all three girls together. 
 
 " Hanks s suspenders. In Norway George 
 happened to foregather with the millionaire 
 manufacturer of those useful articles, and as 
 they were standing, looking at the midnight 
 sun, so George says Mr. Hanks Napo 
 leon B. his name is, I understand suggested 
 that George would be just the one to write 
 their advertisements." 
 
 " I suspect Flitters made the suggestion him 
 self," chuckled Flora. 
 
 " WeU, so do I," Viola agreed. 
 
 " But," asked Grace, with some hesitation, 
 " isn t it just a trifle vulgar? I do hate to have 
 George grow vulgar." 
 
 Viola lifted her shoulders imperceptibly, but 
 Flora turned on the speaker at once. " Grace, 
 you ought to know better. Nothing that Flit 
 ters does or says or thinks could be vulgar. He 
 is a born grand gentleman, which just fills full 
 the measure of his folly. And he is most pi 
 quant when he touches the stupid commonplaces 
 of vulgar people, because he loves them, don t 
 you see, and everything human is beautiful to 
 him. He doesn t get bitter and irritated over 
 the mob, as I do. Isn t it true, Viola? " 
 
 " I don t know about your getting bitter." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 67 
 
 Viola smiled kindly at her friend s enthusiasm. 
 " And George certainly has a whole-hearted 
 defender in you. He does come rather near the 
 line of vulgarity sometimes, to my coarser ap 
 prehension; but, as you say, one feels love back 
 of it Ah, here he is." 
 
 Constance, who had been listening, spiritually 
 open-mouthed, to this singular description, 
 turned her eyes to the doorway. In it there 
 stood, under the half -lifted portiere, the figure 
 of a very ordinary man, thirty years old, per 
 haps. He wore evening dress, well made. He 
 was tall, slight, stooping a trifle, his features 
 were regular and agreeable, his mouth broad, 
 his eyes pale blue, his hair sandy and thinnish, 
 his face clean-shaven. 
 
 At the general shout of " Flitters! " he came 
 forward quickly, with both hands extended. 
 " Bless you, my children, bless you, bless you." 
 But his manner was so quiet, so gentle, so un 
 obtrusive, that for all his odd ways, no one 
 would ever have thought of calling him affected. 
 His oddities were inborn and every one was 
 winning. 
 
 " Lady Viola," he bowed over her hand and 
 kissed it. " What, my dear Lady Disdain," 
 to Flora "I hope I may hear your voice 
 again, but not your tongue. And Laura, with 
 her journalistic acridities. Ruth, with her dim 
 ples, dimples, dimples. And Grace ah, one 
 may kiss a cousin. Wingate, that sheet of yours 
 is getting more offensive every day." 
 
68 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 A dead stop, as he came to McCarthy. 
 
 " Mr. McCarthy, a new friend, our violinist," 
 interposed Viola. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I ve heard of him and want to hear 
 him." 
 
 " And Miss Constance Weber," added the 
 hostess. 
 
 " Miss Weher the violin also? " 
 
 " Piano," from Flora. 
 
 " Just so all these celebrities and I who 
 am nothing but then one has no reputation 
 to support and can just enjoy one s self." 
 
 He slipped into a big chair and the others 
 seated themselves, somewhat nearer together 
 than before. 
 
 " But surely I interrupted some profitable 
 conversation," he began. " Go on." 
 
 4 We were only talking about you and 
 Hanks s suspenders," suggested Flora. 
 
 "To be sure Napoleon B. Hanks. Do 
 you know him? He s a great man a really 
 great man. But I ll tell you one odd thing. 
 He doesn t wear his own suspenders any 
 more than I do. Do you, Mr. McCarthy? No? 
 You ought. There s absolutely nothing like 
 them. I tell Hanks it s disgraceful. Some day, 
 when I get through writing his ads, I m going 
 to show him up. Don t you suppose Armour 
 eats his own beef? Or Douglas wears his own 
 shoes? Or Beaman chews his own gum? They 
 must. Anything else would be impossible." 
 
 " But about the ads? " inquired Wingate. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 69 
 
 " Oh, the ads. Every one of you must make 
 one. You can t do less for me. Come, Viola, 
 begin." 
 
 But Viola did not respond, nor any one else. 
 
 "That means you won t; for I won t insult 
 you by supposing that you can t. It s the easi 
 est thing in the world. 
 
 "Angels and ministers of grace defend us 
 From any other kind but Hanks s suspenders." 
 
 " George," murmured Grace, collecting her 
 senses, " you don t mean that you re responsible 
 for the odious vulgarity that flings itself in my 
 face every morning from the car when I ride 
 down town." 
 
 " Buy Hanks s or bust. * Hanks s patent 
 eats up five pairs of pants and pants for more. 
 
 1 If you buy a new garment to cover your shanks, 
 Just make it complete with a new pair of Hanks s. 
 
 To avoid suspense wear Hanks s suspenders. 
 1 You can wear them inside, you can never wear 
 them out. Mine, mine, all mine." 
 
 The inspired framer of these winning words 
 repeated them in his soft, abstracted tones, with 
 a happy innocence which was more perfect than 
 the words themselves. 
 
 " George," remonstrated Viola, " why will 
 you condescend to such vulgarity as that? " 
 
 George answered, as softly and as absently 
 
70 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 as ever, with no attempt to argue the question. 
 " There s only one vulgarity, my dear cousin, 
 and that is the effort to appear something 
 you re not, to ape and strain after airs and 
 manners you re not born to, to gape with oyster- 
 mouth for the ideas and words and fashions of 
 others. Our middle-class, with its pseudo-ele 
 gance and its common-school correctness is vul 
 gar; but the people, when they speak right out 
 in their free, joyous, happy abundance of slang, 
 aren t vulgar only natural. This is a great 
 country, my friends, and we, the set of Boston, 
 are such a little bit of it, we don t count. There 
 are in the neighbourhood of thirty millions who 
 ought to wear Hanks s suspenders, and you ve 
 got to talk to them in their own tongue. I 
 enjoy it." 
 
 " That is to say," suggested Flora, " you 
 make an effort to appear something you re not, 
 you ape and strain after manners you re not 
 born to, you gape with oyster-mouth for the 
 ideas and words and fashions of others." 
 
 The general laughter and approval with 
 which this was received did not disturb the sup 
 porter of Hanks s. " Good," he said. " I rec 
 ognize my old adversary. And I am vulgar, I 
 suppose. But perhaps you d like me to sing 
 you a song that isn t." 
 
 He went to the piano and preluded softly and 
 vaguely, then sang, to an air that had a lovely, 
 simple, old-world grace about it: 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 71 
 
 " Do not think to win my heart 
 
 With a lovesick mien, 
 Sighing when we meet and part, 
 Sighing all between. 
 
 " Come a-wooing gaily dressed, 
 Flaunt thy cap and feather. 
 So perchance some idle jest 
 May bring our lips together." 
 
 McCarthy had paid little attention to the 
 newcomer hitherto ; but it was pretty to see him 
 wake up at the first strains of the music. When 
 it ceased, he went to the piano. " Who wrote 
 that? " he asked, in his abrupt, almost rough 
 fashion. 
 
 " I," answered Flitters, without looking up, 
 his fingers still echoing a note or two of the air. 
 
 McCarthy leaned on the piano and looked at 
 him, with snapping eyes. " You must be a 
 genius." 
 
 But Flitters continued, quite indifferent. 
 "I ve been told so before; but I m not. I m 
 nothing, a shred of mist, a bit of a morning 
 dream, a scrap of an old song. Now this is 
 more Viola s style." He struck into a rattling 
 dance-hall air and sang a ballad of which one 
 verse will probably suffice the reader: 
 
 "Sarah Sampson loved a coon 
 
 As black as Sarah s shoe. 
 
 Sarah s mother swat the coon 
 
 And swatted Sarah too." 
 
 " That yours? " asked McCarthy, when the 
 performance was finished. 
 
72 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Flitters nodded. 
 
 " Well, it s not like the other, but it s good all 
 the same." 
 
 " Look here," interrupted Wingate, " why 
 don t you two write a comic opera? " 
 
 " Just what I want," cried Flitters, rising 
 eagerly. " I don t know anything about music; 
 but I was turning over an idea the other day. 
 I ll tell you what it was." He took McCarthy 
 by the arm and led him off to a corner of the 
 room. " Xo, no," he cried, " you chattering 
 girls keep away. This is a serious conclave 
 the profane are not needed." 
 
 " Well," said Viola, " now the music has 
 begun we must keep it up. Flora ? " 
 
 "I m perfectly willing," said Flora. "No 
 body ever called me a genius and I haven t got 
 a pocketful of assorted inspirations of my own. 
 But I can sing Chaminade and De Bussy." 
 
 She sang Chaminade and De Bussy, with a 
 rich, ringing soprano voice, absolutely true and 
 full of passion. Even Flitters and McCarthy 
 stopped talking comic opera for a moment to 
 listen and applaud. 
 
 Then Constance played Tschaikovski, played 
 it with singular brilliancy, but that was all. 
 The comic operators applauded again; but the 
 applause was briefer and had less heart in it. 
 
 " Now," said Viola, " it s your turn, Mr. 
 McCarthy. Leave your plotting and come and 
 play to us." 
 
 Everybody but Flitters, who did not like in- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 73 
 
 terruption, joined eagerly in this request. 
 Nevertheless McCarthy refused, and Viola, 
 knowing his moods, did not press the point. 
 Instead, she took her guests up in the elevator 
 to the dining-room at the top of the house and 
 there they had supper. Viola s suppers were 
 not the least important part of her entertain 
 ment; they were not pretentious, but there was 
 always something rare and new and piquant 
 in the way of salads, fruits, or ices. 
 
 4 You ll have to come to smoking, Viola," 
 urged Flitters, " to letting us smoke and smok 
 ing yourself for company. It s done every 
 where." 
 
 " Xo," said Viola, with quiet decision. " So 
 is bridge done everywhere. If you want bridge 
 and smoke, you may go everywhere else. I 
 don t think cards a fit occupation for creatures 
 who have brains and tongues and I m too old- 
 fashioned to smoke or to have others smoke in 
 my presence. But, George, I want to speak to 
 you a moment." 
 
 " Speak," he answered, " for years." 
 She led him to a quiet sofa, while the others 
 continued chatting and eating about the table. 
 " Do you know Mr. Matthew Porter, 
 George?" she began. 
 
 " Of course I know Mat Porter." 
 " How did you come to know him? " 
 Flitters reflected a second. " How does one 
 come to know any one? At some club or oth 
 I suppose." 
 
74 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Does he go to clubs? " 
 
 " Well, now you speak of it, I should say 
 not often." 
 
 " Do you like him? " 
 
 The volatile again took a moment to con 
 dense his thoughts. " Porter s a man," he said. 
 
 " He wants to be governor, I m told." 
 
 " Well, I imagine he s not above those weak 
 
 nesses." 
 
 " And," went on Viola, " I m told he s a rad 
 ical, believes in the people, all that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 Flitters laughed his cordial, human laugh. 
 " He can t be more of a radical than I am, Vi. 
 I believe in the people. I love the people. I 
 love their dirty, frank, rough ways. You know 
 I do." 
 
 " But you don t believe in government by the 
 people? " 
 
 " I don t believe in government by anybody. 
 It s an absurdity and only those who are absurd 
 ever attempt it. When men can rule them 
 selves, they won t need any government. And 
 until they can rule themselves, government is 
 of little use. I m an anarchist, I think." 
 
 " But you re not serious. Mr. Porter is." 
 
 You mean I don t want to be governor. 
 That s true enough." 
 
 Here Viola let the subject drop for a time, 
 and her cousin, who apparently had no desire 
 to continue it, gazed at the pretty groups across 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 75 
 
 the room, Ruth and Flora scolding McCarthy 
 for not playing, Grace and Laura entreating 
 Miss Tucker to drink champagne, which was 
 against her principles, although she had none. 
 
 " I wish you would bring Mr. Porter here," 
 said Viola abruptly. 
 
 " Do you? " asked Flitters, still keeping his 
 eyes on distance. " Now why? Such a whim 
 would be natural enough for me; but you rea 
 sonable people must give reasons." 
 
 " I want to see him." 
 
 " And convert him? " The jester turned and 
 looked at her, with roguery in the pale blue 
 eyes. " The missionary spirit is so strong in 
 all women! They can t seem to believe in their 
 own ideas except when they re persuading some 
 body else to believe in them. But, Viola, I 
 don t think he d come and I m not sure I 
 want him." 
 
 " Why? " 
 
 " Well, there are some of your set here now 
 who are over-serious compared to me, who take 
 life with painful seriousness, I mention no 
 names; but every one of them is a will o the 
 wisp of careless frivolity compared to Porter. 
 He couldn t understand us, he wouldn t like us, 
 he d have no patience with us. Just think of 
 it a man who wants to reform the world!" 
 
 " But he knows no better," urged Viola, 
 apologetically. 
 
 " And he never will. And what is more, my 
 
76 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 lady cousin, I have a terrible suspicion, way 
 down in the bottom of my heart, that you re 
 just like him." 
 
 " But will you bring him here? " she per 
 sisted, sticking to her point. 
 
 " Oh, certainly, if you wish it," he answered, 
 quite indifferent to his own objections. 
 
 Then they all went down-stairs again and had 
 more music and more laughter. McCarthy still 
 obstinately refused to play; but Constance 
 played and Flora sang and Flitters, and Laura 
 recited one piece of drollery and Flitters capped 
 it with another, and Viola sat and watched it 
 all, chatting vaguely with Wingate, and the fun 
 continued fast and furious till midnight was 
 close at hand. 
 
 At last some one mentioned going and the 
 girls began to make their preparations, in spite 
 of Flitters s energetic protest. " Why go? " he 
 urged. " Now comes in the sweet o the night. 
 Why go? Always this going out of comfort 
 and song and laughter into the darkness. Why 
 do such things? " 
 
 " But sleep? " suggested Grace. 
 
 " The most absurd excuse ever invented for 
 interrupting pleasure. Sleep when you have 
 nothing else to do, when you are hearing dull 
 sermons and improving lectures, when there is 
 no good company to be had or love or laughter. 
 This foolish tyranny of hours and customs! To 
 be obliged to sleep when you don t wish to and 
 wake when you don t wish to. I live for two 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 77 
 
 or three days at a stretch. Then I m ready to 
 sleep two days until I m glad to live again." 
 
 You don t belong to the proletariat, you 
 know," remarked Flora. 
 
 "The proletariat!" And paying no atten 
 tion to their departure or farewells, he turned 
 to Miss Tucker and murdered her delicious 
 somnolescence with terrible tales which she mis 
 took for nightmares bred of champagne and 
 lobster salad. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 ONE morning soon after Christmas Smith 
 walked into Porter s office in Pemberton Square. 
 The labour leader had learned all he cared to 
 about the candidate from outside sources and 
 now was ready for a talk with the man him 
 self. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Smith," said Porter, 
 rising and shaking hands with his usual frank 
 cordiality. " What can I do for you? " 
 
 " Well," answered the labour leader, as he 
 seated himself. "I d like to ask you a few 
 questions." 
 
 " Just so," was the cheerful rejoinder. 
 " Ask away." 
 
 Smith asked, without a moment s hesitation. 
 All his words came easily. " Do you want the 
 Democratic nomination for governor? " 
 
 " Not badly enough to do any dirty work 
 for it. Yes, I want it, if it comes my way." 
 
 " It s coming your way, I guess. And I can 
 do a lot to help it on." 
 
 Porter s face darkened a trifle. Was there 
 to be a bargain here? 
 
 The other did not leave the matter in doubt. 
 
 78 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 79 
 
 " Oh, I m not looking for anything in it my 
 self not just now, at any rate. But before 
 I go ahead, I want to be sure I m following 
 the right man. Now, Mr. Porter, I m a Demo 
 crat." 
 
 Porter nodded. " So am I." 
 
 " I believe in Democratic principles, if any 
 man knows what they are, and I believe, if 
 you re going to do anything in politics, you ve 
 got to do it by sticking to one of the old parties. 
 Ain t that right? " 
 
 " Quite right. At least it s my idea, too." 
 
 " But," went on Smith, " I m a labouring 
 man and a labour man. AH the votes I can 
 swing are labour votes, and before we throw 
 them, I and my crowd, we want to know how 
 our candidate is going to act towards labour. 
 We don t want to put in a governor that s goin 
 to face round and be hand and glove with the 
 swells and turn down everything that labour s 
 been working for. Now, how do you stand? " 
 
 Porter s speech was as ready as his ques 
 tioner s and the look that went with it was as 
 frank as the speech. Your question is too 
 general, Mr. Smith. I could tell you I m the 
 friend of labour, as so many candidates do, with 
 big, empty words, when they re looking for 
 support; then when they ve got elected, the 
 vetoes come pretty thickly, as you know. I 
 might just as well say, now and here, that I 
 should probably veto some measures that your 
 friends would shout for. Nevertheless, I am 
 
80 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 the friend of labour. I want every man to have 
 a free and fair chance. I don t believe he gets 
 it in a good many ways as things are now. I 
 think your unions rob him of it sometimes. 
 More often I think he s robbed of it by laws 
 that are passed unjustly, dishonestly, in favour 
 of corporations that have money to buy the 
 legislature. Now it s right here that I come in. 
 There s a great deal of talk about reforming 
 the legislatures and all that, about sending 
 better men. It isn t the men, Mr. Smith, it s 
 the system that s wrong. We make the men 
 what they are. We give them every induce 
 ment to be corrupt and no inducement to 
 be anything else. See how it s done. We 
 send three hundred men up to that legislature 
 every year. Half of them have never been 
 there before. Three-quarters of them know 
 nothing about government or administration. 
 Not one man of them is there to represent the 
 state as a whole, to see that the interests of one 
 part are adjusted to those of another, to see 
 that the general finances are managed with 
 care, economy, and decency. Not one man has 
 any natural position of leadership, any right to 
 suggest a course of action to the others, or to 
 control action on their part. Every man is 
 interested in his own little constituency, to get 
 something for that, something that will make 
 him popular and secure his political advance 
 ment. How is he to get that something? There 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 81 
 
 is only one possible way: by giving his vote 
 to a lot of other men who each want similar 
 somethings and getting theirs in exchange. 
 And since a bargain is a bargain, when a man 
 has got the habit of exchanging his vote for 
 another vote, the next thing to do is to exchange 
 it for a hundred dollars or for five dollars. 
 And since all these petty concerns are of no 
 interest to the assembly as a whole, it cannot 
 debate them as a whole. It appoints a com 
 mittee for this, a committee for that. Every 
 thing must go to its proper committee. The 
 committee hears, the committee decides, the 
 committee reports, the legislature acts as the 
 committee tells it to. There is no openness, no 
 free discussion, no publicity. Fix the commit 
 tee. There you are. This is a long lecture, 
 Mr. Smith; but you wanted to know where 
 I stand." 
 
 Smith was listening, with his brows con 
 tracted, his gray eyes fixed on the lecturer. 
 "Go on," he said. "You re all right so far. 
 But what do you propose to do about it? " 
 
 " That s just the point. I want to drag 
 everything into the open air, shake the dust 
 and moths out and let in the sunshine of pub 
 licity. I want important measures debated 
 squarely and freely in open session, with the 
 most wide-awake reporters in the country fol 
 lowing every man s speech and every man s 
 action and the public waiting to snatch it hot 
 
82 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 from the reporters. That s the one thing my 
 campaign, if I have one, will try to bring 
 about." 
 
 Smith nodded, still with the thoughtful ex 
 pression in his eyes. That s what we all want 
 to bring about; but how? " 
 
 " I ll tell you. Let the governor govern. 
 Now he s a figurehead no more. You drop 
 a nickel in the slot and get a speech appropriate 
 to the occasion, according to whether it s a me 
 morial service or a cattle show. The veto? To 
 be sure, the veto. What would you think of 
 the general of an army who had no power 
 except to veto the proceedings of a council of 
 war? Of the superintendent of a factory or 
 the president of a railroad, with a veto? No, 
 I say let the governor govern and then let 
 the legislature do its natural duty of watching 
 and checking the governor s government and 
 holding him to a due responsibility. Let him 
 be absolutely free to appoint a cabinet of subor 
 dinates who shall be secretaries of state, of the 
 treasury, of education, of what not. Let those 
 secretaries have regular seats in the legislative 
 body. Let at least the greater part of pro 
 posed legislation be introduced subject to their 
 approval. Let them lead the debates for it 
 against the natural united opposition of the 
 other party, which will watch every chance to 
 criticize the administration both in its legislative 
 and in its executive functions. Do this and you 
 will have a search light of public interest thrown 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 83 
 
 upon your state government which will banish 
 corruption or if that is impossible, with 
 human nature as it is, will at least reduce it to 
 something very different from what we find 
 now. That is my programme, Mr. Smith, the 
 one thing I m working for. I believe it will 
 help labour. I know it will help labour so far 
 as labour is honestly in pursuit of justice. I 
 believe it offers the best possible means of solv 
 ing all the great and difficult problems in re 
 gard to corporations, trusts, monopolies. First 
 get honest government. Then these questions 
 can be discussed fairly and settled, so far as they 
 can ever be settled. Until you get honest gov 
 ernment not merely for a day through some 
 passing outburst of reform but honest gov 
 ernment as a system, you can t settle anything." 
 The speaker paused; then, as Smith made no 
 answer and appeared absorbed in thought, went 
 on again: " Perhaps it seems to you not a very 
 pretty thing for me to advocate increasing the 
 governor s power and then ask to be governor. 
 But that s just why I do it. I don t care to be 
 a walking slot machine. But give the governor 
 something to do and something to be with 
 the strictest responsibility, mind you, to a legis 
 lature which is all the keener to criticize because 
 it has no mission to act and you ll see the 
 biggest men in the country anxious to take 
 governorships, men whose only interest now is 
 to ruin government by buying it up for their 
 own purposes. Really big men don t want 
 
84 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 money. They want action and distinction. 
 This idea of mine will give them a chance for 
 enough of it to satisfy any man. Now, Mr. 
 Smith, I ve told you where I stand." 
 
 This time Smith s face was clear and he an 
 swered promptly. "I m with you," he said. 
 " This looks to me like a big thing. I ve heard 
 about it before, but I ve never had a square 
 chance to get at the facts. Of course I don t 
 understand it all yet. I ll have to think it over 
 a lot and ask more questions by and by. But 
 I like you. Some people don t believe in ideas 
 in politics. That kind of people are mostly 
 afraid of ideas because they don t know any 
 thing about em. I believe in em when 
 there s a man behind em and I ve seen you 
 put through that factory bill last spring. Mr. 
 Porter, you re my candidate for governor on 
 the Democratic ticket. I ve got a good many 
 friends and you ve got a good many friends 
 and I believe you ll be elected. At any rate, 
 I m with you for the fight." 
 
 The two men looked in each other s eyes, with 
 absolute sincerity and shook hands warmly. 
 
 Then Smith asked a few questions as to the 
 details of Porter s programme, raising some of 
 the objections that naturally occurred in regard 
 to it. The answers that he received seemed to 
 satisfy him in every respect. 
 
 Some points as to the practical workings of 
 the campaign also came up. 
 
 "Heath will be against you, I suppose?" 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 85 
 
 Smith said. He, like almost every one, had 
 heard of the rivalry between the two men in 
 other matters. 
 
 " I suppose so," agreed Porter. " A strong 
 
 man." 
 
 " No," was the decided answer, " a smart 
 man, but cares for nothing but Heath. He s 
 only strong because of Wood and the party 
 behind him." 
 
 " There s just one way to beat him, Mr. 
 Smith, and that s by getting hold of the people." 
 
 " You re right there, and an honest man, 
 with a platform like yours, can get the people 
 every time. I m more anxious about the nomi 
 nation than about the election. Hinckley s a 
 man you never know where to find." 
 
 " And Tom Burke? " Porter asked. 
 
 "Oh, Tom Burke" Smith laughed and 
 didn t finish his sentence. 
 
 "Well," said Porter, "I ve got to go out 
 now. Come to my rooms some evening and 
 have a long talk. Telephone up so you ll be 
 sure to find me. Think over all your objections 
 in the meantime and I ll do my best to meet 
 them." 
 
 " I will," Smith answered. And as they 
 again shook hands at parting, he added: 
 " Whether we win or not, Mr. Porter, I m on 
 your side. You can count on me. And we will 
 
 win." 
 
 Late that afternoon Porter dropped into the 
 Idlers Club, in the hope of finding a man with 
 
86 3KATTHEW SORTER 
 
 whom he had business to transact. He did not 
 find the man he wanted; but he found Flitters 
 instead; or rather, Flitters found him. 
 
 " Hello, Porter," exclaimed that volatile per 
 sonage. " Sit down and talk to a fellow." 
 
 " Can t," said Porter, " busy." 
 
 " Nonsense, you re not busy. What kind of 
 a life is that to live? Sit down. I ve something 
 to say to you." 
 
 "I can t imagine " Porter objected; but 
 he sat down and allowed a whiskey and soda 
 to be called for. He even accepted a cigar. 
 When he had lighted it, he turned to his com 
 panion inquiringly. Well? " he said. 
 
 " Well," was the petulant reply. " I sha n t 
 talk till I m ready, old man. No business 
 transacted while you wait for me." 
 
 " A41 right. Take your time and mine." 
 
 When the whiskey had come, Flitters at last 
 found his tongue. " I want to take you to my 
 cousin s some evening," he said. 
 
 " Your cousin s? Who is he? What should 
 I do there?" 
 
 " Not he, she." 
 
 " Oh, she." 
 
 " And you d do what every one else does. 
 Sing, laugh, make verses, eat, drink, and be 
 merry." 
 
 Porter looked at his companion as if not un 
 derstanding. " You ve got the wrong man," 
 he objected. " I can t sing nor make verses." 
 
 " Nor laugh nor be merry, I suppose nor 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 87 
 
 eat and drink in any way to profit by it. But 
 you might learn." 
 
 " You ll excuse me," suggested Porter, sip 
 ping his whiskey with a certain relish, in spite 
 of his companion s innuendo, " you ll excuse me, 
 but why this extraordinary outburst of charity 
 on your part? " 
 
 " To tell the truth, my cousin wants to see 
 you." 
 
 "Oh!" Then, after a moment of reflection, 
 Porter added, " Who is she? " 
 
 " Viola Buckingham. She s rich and hand 
 some and idle and talks well and has a mob of 
 pretty girls about her. You ve heard of her 
 perhaps? " 
 
 Porter made no reply. He was thinking of 
 Margaret Ferguson. He did think of her 
 every hour of the day. She was rich and hand 
 some and idle. If he would give up the am 
 bitions and ideals of years, he might have her 
 for his own. Sometimes he was almost ready 
 to do so. But he would much prefer to have her 
 and the ideals, too. Meantime there was no 
 room in his life for other women, however rich 
 and handsome. 
 
 " I asked if you d heard of her," reiterated 
 Flitters, with mild insistence. 
 
 "Yes, I ve heard of her; but I don t think 
 that sort of thing is in my line. I m neither 
 rich nor handsome nor idle, you know." 
 
 "I understand that perfectly; but it s good 
 for you to come in contact with those who are. 
 
88 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Come, you ll go with me some evening, won t 
 you? " 
 
 " I doubt it," was the indifferent answer. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you will." 
 
 Then they left the club together, Flitters 
 preaching his favourite doctrine of the golden 
 moment. You never live, Porter, you re al 
 ways going to live. After all, past and future 
 are nothing. The present is absolutely within 
 our power, if we choose to make it so. Here is 
 the world, overflowing with unspeakable joy 
 and beauty and merriment, and persons like you 
 pass by with head in the air, snuffing after some 
 thing unattainable in the far distance. The 
 moment, the present moment, is a golden cup, 
 and if we choose, we may fill it from the ex- 
 haustless fountain of eternity. Ages of care, 
 generations of restless fret have robbed most 
 of us of our birthrights. I am at least glad 
 that my eyes are open to the splendour of mine." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 PORTER had been invited to the Fergusons on 
 the last night of the year, just a quiet dinner 
 of three. While they were at table Mr. Fer 
 guson had carried most of the conversation, 
 keeping it on general topics, but contriving to 
 intersperse what seemed to him very clever hints 
 on the necessity of common sense and practical 
 views, if a man wanted to get ahead in life. 
 
 After dinner they were all together for a 
 time in the reception-room, and Ferguson began 
 his attack fairly and directly. 
 
 " Mat," he said, " I hope you ve thought 
 better of your political schemes." 
 
 " I ve thought of them a great deal," was 
 the quiet answer. " As to better, I don t know." 
 
 " Depend upon it, you re making a mistake, 
 if you stick to them. Now just look at it 
 seriously, Mat, for a moment. What chance 
 has a Democrat in this state? I don t say but 
 a man mightn t get elected by personal popular 
 ity or money. But supposing he does. Every 
 body s against him. He s got no official sup 
 port, no chance to do anything or get ahead. 
 I m not arguing for Republican principles or 
 against them. But when one party has things 
 
 89 
 
90 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 all its own way in a state, there s no use in a 
 man s tying himself up with the other. Don t 
 you think I m right? " 
 
 " There are some advantages about belong 
 ing to the weaker party," Porter answered. 
 "If you go in with the stronger party and win 
 as a matter of course, you get no credit indi 
 vidually. You must follow the old lines or get 
 out. If you head the weaker party and win, 
 you have it all your own way." 
 
 " Ah, yes," answered the paternal adviser. 
 "If you win a gambler s chance. That sort 
 of thing is all very well for a man who has made 
 his pile and can afford to amuse himself. You 
 haven t made your pile yet, I think? " 
 
 " No," was the cheerful reply, " no pile." 
 
 " Exactly. You re a young man. You can 
 do better at forty-five than you can at thirty- 
 five. Wait awhile. Do as I told you the other 
 day. I ve thought it over a good deal. We 
 want just such a man as you are in the Over- 
 State Electric law department. Come right 
 in with us at five thousand dollars a year to 
 begin with. In two or three years you ll be 
 making five times that. Don t stand in your 
 own light, Mat. It s your good I m thinking 
 of. And the chance I m offering you doesn t 
 come in every man s way." 
 
 Porter paused before he answered and when 
 he did answer it was with much seriousness. 
 " I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Ferguson. 
 I must seem like a fool to refuse it. You spoke 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 91 
 
 of a gambler s chance. I suppose there is a 
 little of the gambler s spirit in me. Yet I like 
 to think there is something else also." 
 
 " Of course, of course," said Ferguson, with 
 some irritation. " But don t answer me now, 
 Mat. The thing will keep for awhile. Think 
 it over." He rose, as he spoke. " I ll leave 
 Margaret to persuade you. She knows how 
 better than I." 
 
 Porter rose also, shook hands, and again ex 
 pressed his sense of Ferguson s kindness. " I 
 shall not forget it, whatever happens," he said. 
 
 Then Margaret was left alone with her lover. 
 Her talk with Heath in the same room, such 
 a little time ago, was vividly present to her 
 mind. So many circumstances were the same. 
 But the men were so different. 
 
 " Well? " she began at length. " You refuse 
 my father s offer." 
 
 Instead of answering her directly, he burst 
 forth all at once with the tide of hopes, and 
 doubts, and passions, which had tormented him 
 since he had seen her last. " Margaret," he 
 cried, " Margaret, I don t think you can know 
 w r hat all this means to me. You put it plainly 
 enough, clearly enough, when we talked to 
 gether before. Either give up politics, you 
 said, or give up me. But surely you can t 
 know what it means. For ten years I ve cher 
 ished the idea call it a dream, if you like. 
 I ve watched the condition of public affairs in 
 Massachusetts in every state. I ve heard the 
 
92 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 cry of corruption on all sides. IVe seen the 
 swell of contending passions now a strong 
 man throwing himself into the breach in desper 
 ate effort at reform, now a cynic coming along 
 and saying that reform is impossible and that 
 popular government is an absurd failure. I ve 
 watched and IVe said to myself, there s only 
 one way and I know that way. It may not 
 succeed, but it s the only thing in sight that can. 
 It ought to be tried and I m the one to try it. 
 I don t say it s all patriotism. I m ambitious. 
 Of course I m ambitious. I want to try the 
 scheme myself and be governor myself. And 
 then, Margaret, when IVe thought of these 
 things, you ve always been the first figure in 
 the picture. We ve grown up together. IVe 
 loved no woman but you. IVe known no 
 woman but you. IVe so little to give you now. 
 But I hope, yes, Margaret, I believe, that the 
 time will come when I shall have as much to 
 give you as a man can give. I believe in my 
 idea absolutely, yes, absolutely. And every 
 thing it brings me I am ready to lay down at 
 your feet. Now you come and ask me to give 
 it up. Margaret!" 
 
 She had heard him out in silence, .leaning 
 back in the great chair, her head resting on her 
 hand, her face turned away from him. Even 
 when he had ceased speaking and the passion of 
 his last appeal was ringing in her ears, she said 
 nothing for a long time, but gazed motionless 
 at the smouldering fire in front of her. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 93 
 
 But at last she answered and her voice was 
 cold and quiet. " It s a gambler s chance, as 
 papa says, and you go at it like a gambler, 
 staking your all on this one wild throw. I 
 don t know much about your idea. I never 
 trouble myself about politics. But I do know 
 that the world is full of cranks who think 
 they ve got a secret that will make everything 
 right, who go around saying that if only they 
 had their way there would be no trouble and no 
 corruption. Why, Mat, haven t you seen plenty 
 of that, don t you know them? " 
 
 " You think I m one of them? " he asked 
 hoarsely, leaning forward in his chair, his face 
 buried in his hands. 
 
 There was a shade more softness in her tone, 
 as she replied. " No, I don t think you re one 
 of them yet. But you will be, if you go on. 
 And if my husband was a man like that, I d 
 shoot him. Mat," she continued, and her voice 
 was softer still, soft and winning with the old 
 subtle charm that had held him to her for so 
 many years, in spite of clearer thought and 
 better judgment, " Mat, you say you love me. 
 I love you. I ve never said that to any man 
 before believe it or not, as you like. As you 
 say, we ve grown up together, and there s some 
 thing about you you re better than I am, and 
 I love you for it." 
 
 She drew her chair nearer his and laid her 
 hand on his shoulder. As she did it, a shiver 
 
94 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 ran through his whole frame; but he did not 
 change his position. 
 
 " And I ve come to the marrying point, too," 
 she said. "I ve made up my mind to marry 
 now you or some one else. There ll be no 
 withered old maidhood for me. But papa has 
 told me flatly he will never approve of my 
 marrying you, unless you give up politics for 
 the present. I shouldn t care for his telling 
 only I don t approve of it myself. Mat " she 
 drew nearer still and slipped her arm about his 
 neck " Give up these crazy dreams and 
 schemes, for they are crazy. Come down to 
 common sense and common life. Take the 
 world as other people take it and take me." 
 
 It was his turn now to pause before answer 
 ing, and he stayed there silent, his face buried 
 in his hands, her arm about his neck. To de 
 bate, to decide, to think even, in that rush and 
 tumult of his blood was well-nigh impossible. 
 Yet not for an instant did he really imagine 
 that he might yield, might forget his high ideals 
 or throw aside his golden hope. Nay, in that 
 moment of close, physical contact he seemed to 
 feel more of the body and less of the spirit in 
 her hold upon him than he had ever known 
 before. As he said, he had grown up with her, 
 the thought of her, the hope of her was inter 
 twined with the deepest fibres of his loyal being. 
 But she had never understood him. What she 
 had said to-night showed that more clearly than 
 ever. A crank, she had called him, a crank! 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 95 
 
 Crazy dreams! He did not care for words, but 
 could there be any real communion between him 
 and her? 
 
 Then she drew her arm away, and her chair. 
 And he sat up straight, with an enormous ef 
 fort, and the tumult of his spirit showed in the 
 strangeness of his voice. " Margaret, I can t 
 do it." 
 
 " Very well," she answered, absolutely calm 
 and cold. " Good-bye." 
 
 "Margaret," he began; but the words died 
 on his lips. Apparently she was not listening, 
 not even looking at him. 
 
 He rose in silence and left the room, and she 
 let him go without another word. 
 
 For the next few days Miss Ferguson was not 
 an agreeable companion to those who were 
 obliged to come in contact with her. Her 
 father, soon inferring that she had not been 
 successful in persuading Porter, attempted to 
 sympathize or congratulate he was not 
 quite sure which. But she snubbed him sharply. 
 " Don t bother me," she said. " Dudley Heath! 
 Is he a man?" Indeed, whenever she thought 
 of Heath, tried to fix her mind on his clever 
 ness, his social gifts, his practical sense, she 
 found the passionate appeal of her other lover 
 ringing in her ears and at the sound of it 
 all Heath s cheap and superficial charms and 
 graces withered into nothing. 
 
 Nevertheless, her resolution did not really 
 waver, and the next time Heath came to see 
 
96 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 her, she went down to him without a doubt as 
 to the result of the interview. 
 
 When they were comfortably seated in the 
 same proximity as on a previous occasion, 
 Heath began his attack. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I don t say this is the last 
 time I shall come to make love to you; but I 
 hope so." 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Is it? " he continued. 
 
 "Really, I don t know," she replied. "I 
 should be tempted to prolong the process, if 
 I thought practice would improve you." 
 
 He shook his head. " It couldn t. Love like 
 mine, which wells right out of the heart, is born 
 perfect and can t be improved upon." 
 
 He tried to take her hand, but she drew it 
 away impatiently. " It s a pity that such an 
 ideal affection should be wasted on me," she 
 said, " because, to tell the truth, I don t love 
 you at all." 
 
 The ardent lover received this thrust with en 
 tire equanimity. " Well, to meet you on your 
 own ground, I may as well say that I don t 
 love you, either. And between us, Margaret, 
 being what we are, don t you think this non 
 sense might as well be dropped? Love is for 
 children, a puling, feeble, green-sick sort of 
 business. At the very best there s nothing 
 behind it but deception and disappointment. 
 You dress up an ideal out of your own imagi 
 nation and kneel down and pray to it. One 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 97 
 
 fine day the glory fades and you see it as it is 
 
 just common, mean, selfish, worthless human 
 nature." 
 
 " You seem to speak from elaborate expe 
 rience," she remarked, in the unimpassioned, far 
 away tone, in which she had carried on the con 
 versation hitherto. 
 
 " No, I assure you, not. I ve read all about 
 it in books. It is mentioned in a few, as you 
 may be aware." 
 
 If she was aware, she made no sign, sitting 
 quiet, her long lids drooping, as if she were 
 thinking of something quite different from Dud 
 ley Heath and his book-learned love-lore. 
 
 But he was not discouraged. " Margaret," 
 he went on, " if we marry, let us do it with 
 our eyes open and all our common sense about 
 us. If we do, everything will go right. We 
 don t either of us want the nonsense of love; 
 that is, we both know that, if it has a certain 
 charm, it is nothing but wandering moonshine 
 in the end. What we want is money, success, 
 to have a good time and do something in the 
 world. Life is a poor thing, just tolerable when 
 you get the best of it. We have a fair chance 
 of getting the best of it together." 
 
 She had not moved nor seemed to listen to 
 him at all. Now she turned slowly, leaned both 
 hands on the arm of her chair and looked at 
 him. " Dudley," she said, " a week ago to 
 night Mat Porter sat in that chair and talked 
 
 so differently from the way you talk. He 
 
98 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 made love to me, don t you know, real love. 
 It may be wandering moonshine, but it was 
 sweet." 
 
 " Well, perhaps Porter can out-talk me in 
 that line, though I ve had some compliments." 
 
 " But can he outdo you every other way, 
 that s the question." 
 
 " Exactly, that s the question. But if you 
 ask me, frankly, I don t think he can." 
 
 " I don t think so, either," she said reflect 
 ively. Then firing up again at the recollection 
 of that other night, she went on, with hungry 
 eagerness: "But, Dudley, he does seem like 
 a bigger man than you." 
 
 "I m going to be governor," was the cool 
 interruption. 
 
 " He s so much handsomer than you. His 
 mouth is so strong, his eyes so clear, he stands 
 up so firm and vigorous." 
 
 " I m going to be governor." 
 
 " He s so brave, too, not ready to truckle 
 like you, and time-serve like you, and fawn 
 and flatter where he s only anxious to bite." 
 
 "I m going to be governor." 
 
 " And he s honest and honourable, not a 
 cynic, always looking for low, mean motives. 
 Perhaps you think I m more of a cynic than 
 you. So I am and lower and meaner. I 
 could never live with him nor he with me. 
 All the same, I appreciate that he is good and 
 noble and you are not." 
 
 "I m going to be governor." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 99 
 
 " I know it. And I dare say you re good 
 enough for me. Anyway, I ll marry you." 
 
 Even Heath jumped a little at this sudden 
 conclusion of her eulogy of his rival. Then, 
 anxious to signify his ecstasy in an appropriate 
 form, he would have clasped her to his heart. 
 But she pushed him away. " Bother," she said. 
 " That s all wandering moonshine. I ve said 
 I d marry you and I will. I won t go back 
 on it. I ll swear it by Mammon, if you like, 
 and if that s the one to swear by. But go away 
 now and let me alone." 
 
 He went. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 PORTER had made his choice and he never for 
 a moment felt that he could have made it other 
 wise; but the struggle had been a hard one. As 
 he thought things over, in the revealing light 
 of that last interview, it seemed clear that he 
 and Margaret could never have been happy 
 together: she did not understand him, she did 
 not trust him, to put it simply, she did not love 
 him, at any rate, not as he loved her and would 
 have wished to be loved. Yet, reason as he 
 might, the thought of her was bound up with 
 all his memories, with all his hopes, with the 
 whole web and tissue of his life. Her eyes, her 
 voice, that bloomy softness of her cheek was 
 he never to kiss it, never, never? And there 
 came over him a sudden wave of wild regret 
 that he never had kissed it. In all the years 
 of his devotion to her, though she had, of 
 course, known his love and others had known 
 it, he had always treated her, always thought of 
 her, with the most delicate respect. Now that 
 she had herself done what she could to shatter 
 the god of his idolatry, there rushed upon him 
 a memory of vague rumours hinting that others 
 had not always been so delicate as he, that 
 
 100 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 101 
 
 others had kissed that bloomy softness till they 
 were weary and she had not rebuked them. He 
 had never believed it before ; but now - Was 
 that what he should have done? Was she a 
 woman to be taken by storm and not by slow 
 siege and soft approaches? And in the tumult 
 of regret and humiliation he was half -minded 
 to return to her, to take her in his arms and kiss 
 her blindly again and again and again, then 
 cast her from him for ever, making her under 
 stand that the blight of rejection had really 
 fallen not upon him, but upon her. 
 
 The haunting torment of these thoughts made 
 him go through the next week as if in a dream. 
 The necessary routine of .business seemed almost 
 intolerable and for the time even the vision of 
 political success brought no charm, no consola 
 tion. What would success be now that he had 
 no one to share it with him? 
 
 Saturday he went up to Foxbridge to spend 
 Sunday with his sister and there he found a 
 little relief. Saturday evening he had a long 
 talk with his friend Marston, from whom Por 
 ter had originally derived his political ideas. 
 The two agreed that the time for action had 
 come, and that if a Democratic campaign, or 
 ganized according to their views, did not suc 
 ceed now, it must at least lead to overwhelming 
 success a little later on. This was some com 
 fort. 
 
 Then Sunday Porter told the whole story to 
 his sister. Miss Porter was not a person of 
 
102 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 many words. She was tall, dark, and quiet, 
 with dark eyes, an oval, olive face, and snow 
 white hair. She was much older than her 
 brother and had brought him up from boyhood, 
 and he and his interests were all her world. She 
 had never liked Margaret Ferguson, nor hoped 
 for the match; but she had never attempted to 
 interfere with it, doubting the usefulness of such 
 attempts. Now everything had turned out just 
 as she had wished. Nevertheless, she sympa 
 thized with her brother s suffering at the mo 
 ment. 
 
 " You were wiser than I, Clara," he said. 
 " You disbelieved in it from the beginning." 
 
 " I am no judge of such matters," was the 
 placid answer. " Besides, there may have been 
 a little jealousy in my feeling." 
 
 " Nonsense! You jealous! " 
 
 " Every woman is jealous of what she loves, 
 I fancy. And every man, too, for that matter." 
 
 " Well, it s all over now," he continued, after 
 a long silence. " But it hurts." 
 
 " Life hurts. It it weren t for the thought 
 of something higher, I don t know how we 
 should endure it. But, after all, you have 
 everything before you." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know it. Just now it seems as if 
 everything were behind. Clara, what is the use, 
 even if I succeed, all alone, no wife, no children 
 just solitude to the very, very end?" 
 
 She was a woman of such grave discretion 
 that she did not even hint that she would share 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 103 
 
 his solitude and be to him instead of wife and 
 children, did not remind him that she had only 
 solitude before her no wife, no children 
 and no success. Nay, she did not even suggest 
 the possibility of another love, another wife, and 
 children who might have a better inheritance 
 than Margaret Ferguson s. She talked more 
 simply and more practically, advised leaving 
 the distant future to adjust its own affairs, dis 
 cussed immediate prospects, political schemes, 
 political friends, in a tone that of itself carried 
 great balmy depths of quiet sympathy. And 
 Porter, returning to town next day, found life 
 more bearable by many degrees. 
 
 Tuesday morning Flitters telephoned and 
 urged Porter to go to Viola s with him that 
 evening. Porter s first instinct was to refuse. 
 Men he must see ; but, at least, women Then 
 common sense protested. A new atmosphere 
 was just what he required, contact with differ 
 ent people, with different interests. He need 
 never go again if he did not wish; but just 
 now it would be better than the long reflecting 
 hours in his solitary rooms. Very well," he 
 answered. " I ll go." 
 
 So, about half -past eight, the two arrived at 
 Viola s. They found the whole company as 
 sembled. As they slipped in quietly, Flora was 
 singing, with her back turned to them, and they 
 stood by the door till she had finished. This 
 gave Viola a few moments to examine her 
 guest s appearance and she was pleased. There 
 
104 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 was something dignified in his simple, frank 
 bearing, something manly and commanding in 
 his look, which made her feel that she should 
 not regret the step she had taken. 
 
 When Flora finished, Flitters came forward 
 and performed the necessary introduction. 
 " Viola, here is a gentleman to whom life is all 
 dead earnest. I told him that this was the 
 place to get a Ph. D. doctor of folly and 
 that earnestness could not live long in this at 
 mosphere. Porter, only one subject of talk is 
 absolutely forbidden politics. I hope it won t 
 result in total dumbness on your part." 
 
 But Viola interposed, with her usual tranquil 
 grace. " I need not tell you, Mr. Porter, that 
 this gentleman has taken all the possible degrees 
 
 and some impossible in the science he al 
 ludes to. The rest of us understand what seri 
 ousness is and can practise it on occasion 
 sometimes find it even a little difficult to shake 
 off. To George it has the peculiar terrors which 
 always accompany the unknown." 
 
 Porter hastened to disclaim, as far as possible, 
 the attribution of undue solemnity, but Flitters 
 interrupted. " You re so far gone in the dis 
 ease that you don t even know the symptoms. 
 And to tell the truth, Viola herself is by no 
 means what she should be. But there are some 
 of us here " he looked round at the company 
 
 " who know better what life is and how to 
 make the most of it." 
 
 Without more words, he went to the piano 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 105 
 
 and played a rollicking air which could not be 
 accused of unnecessary seriousness. And all the 
 company, except Viola, joined with utter aban 
 don in the chorus, while Porter, sitting quietly 
 beside his hostess, thought that if he was seeking 
 something different from the solitude of his 
 own chambers, he had certainly found it. 
 
 Then Laura read some verses in the fashion 
 of a Chaucerian prologue, full of sharp hits on 
 every member of the company, and particularly 
 characterizing Flitters as: 
 
 " A clown three centuries behind his day, 
 Who thinks the world a place for him to play. 
 Supreme in wit, he spends his wit on nothing 
 But booming useful articles of clothing. 
 From morn to night he spins an idle jest 
 And thinks the wise should move at his behest, 
 Wiser than they, so he himself declares; 
 For he finds laughter, where the wise find cares." 
 
 Other readings followed and other songs; 
 and Porter, unaccustomed as the tone of things 
 was to him, found himself wonderfully at ease. 
 This was, of course, largely owing to Viola s 
 tact. She said a quiet word to him about each 
 of the company, about Flora s singing, Grace s 
 painting, Laura s literature. She laughed at 
 Flitters s nonsense and half-apologized for it, 
 and all the time, perhaps without intending it, 
 she gave Porter to understand that she was not 
 quite at home with these idlers and laughers any 
 more than he was, that life meant something 
 more to her, or might mean more, than a jest, 
 
106 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 or even a song. She did not say this in so many 
 words, made no such approach to sudden inti 
 macy. That was not her way. Probably Por 
 ter, keen as he was at analysis, would not even 
 have formulated it for himself. Yet he realized, 
 in some vague fashion, that she was making him 
 feel at home. 
 
 Up -stairs, in the supper-room, Flitters took 
 charge of the newcomer, led him from group to 
 group and gave him a characteristic introduc 
 tion to each one. " Miss Buckingham, my 
 cousin, charming girl, Grace her name, 
 grace her nature paints exquisite things, not 
 much truth, but feeling. Miss Ruth Nelson 
 has one more dimple than Grace, but a much 
 more uncertain temper you have to make love 
 to her with extreme caution, which rather en 
 hances the piquancy; sculpts occasionally. Mr. 
 Eugene McCarthy plays the violin like Or 
 pheus, so that even politicians and Standard 
 Oil magnates dance after him a virtuoso, I m 
 sure, though why a great musician should be 
 called a virtuoso I have never been able to 
 make out, a kind of lucus e non lucendo, I sup 
 pose. He and I are doing a comic opera to 
 gether. Miss Laura Wells I say nothing 
 about her, because you ve heard her describe 
 me. Miss Flora Chantrey she appears com 
 monplace enough, but she s divine to listen to, 
 when she sings when she talks, there s noth 
 ing divine about her; in fact, I sometimes think 
 Miss Constance Weber, I don t know her 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 107 
 
 much better than you do as yet, but she s at 
 tractive to look at, isn t she? " 
 
 After supper there was more music. McCar 
 thy was urgently solicited to play, but again 
 refused. " I can t," he said. " I can t. I don t 
 feel like it. So where s the use of trying? " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Flitters," began Constance. 
 
 " Mr. Flitters ! " groaned the person ad 
 dressed. " A pair of Hanks s on the shoulders 
 of a Greek god! " 
 
 " Well, Flitters then. You should have heard 
 him play last week. It was heavenly." 
 
 " I dare say. He plays to me, when we are 
 making the opera. It s heavenly, of course; 
 but it gets awfully in the way of my ideas." 
 
 Meantime Porter was looking over Viola s 
 latest photographs with Ruth and Flora. 
 
 " Mr. Porter," Flora urged, " do talk politics 
 to us." 
 
 " I thought that was forbidden," he answered, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Nonsense," Ruth chimed in. " He s busy 
 over there with Constance. Besides, we re a 
 free people, after all. I think politics must be 
 so fascinating." 
 
 " They are to persons who don t know any 
 thing about them. Excuse the impertinence." 
 
 " I don t pretend to know anything about 
 them," Ruth went on. " And I m not for 
 woman s rights, of course, or that sort of non 
 sense. But it must be such fun." 
 
 " Ruth would be enthusiastic, if she were 
 
108 MCATTHEW C PORTER 
 
 talking to an undertaker," interrupted Flora. 
 " Excuse my impertinence this time, Mr. Por 
 ter. I agree with her about politics. It must 
 be fun to abuse people right and left and call 
 them thieves and liars for doing just what you 
 are doing yourself." 
 
 " Ah, but one doesn t lie and steal one s 
 self," Porter objected, not too seriously. 
 
 " No, no, of course not. It s only the others." 
 
 At this point Viola came up. 
 
 " Mr. Porter s talking politics to us," said 
 Ruth. " Isn t that nice? " 
 
 " No," remonstrated Porter, with much de 
 cision, " I was only listening." 
 
 " I can well believe it," was Viola s sympa 
 thetic answer. 
 
 " Come," Flora cried, very indignantly, " I 
 can t stand that. Let s go where we re appre 
 ciated." 
 
 She and Ruth went and Viola and Porter 
 were left once more by themselves. 
 
 " I have a very pleasant evening to thank you 
 for," he remarked, after a moment s quiet ob 
 servance of what was going on in the other part 
 of the room. 
 
 " I am glad. You must come again and 
 often," was her simple answer. " It may seem 
 a rather frivolous world here; but it s less so 
 than it seems. In fact, almost every one has 
 a serious purpose, of a kind except myself 
 and George." 
 
 " I imagine you have a serious purpose if 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 109 
 
 it were known." He turned and looked at her 
 searchingly, at the strong, sweet lines of her 
 face and her earnest eyes. 
 
 She shook her head. " No, I never have had 
 one yet." 
 
 " Then it must be that your make-up is so 
 very serious that you ve never yet found any 
 thing serious enough for it." 
 
 She did not answer for a moment. " That 
 sounds appalling, doesn t it? And life over 
 flowing with such serious matter, too." 
 
 Here Flitters pounced upon them. You 
 two cannot stay together," he cried. " You 
 spoil all the mirth of the good company. Your 
 long, earnest faces are like two dull black 
 clouds looming up on our sunshine. We re 
 going to act impromptu charades now, of which 
 the one chief object is to make you both per 
 fectly ridiculous. Come! Come! Come!" 
 
 They came and made themselves ridiculous, 
 with lamblike humility and considerable success, 
 so that the company in general were edified and 
 even Flitters condescended to approve. 
 
 " Haven t you enjoyed yourself? " he asked, 
 as he left Porter at the door of his chambers. 
 
 " I have," was the evidently genuine answer. 
 
 " I thought so. But it must be something so 
 unusual you hardly know it, when it comes. 
 Try it again soon. It ll make you a better man 
 and a better governor." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 MARGARET had been receiving congratulations 
 and cups and saucers for several weeks, when 
 Viola decided to call upon her. The two had 
 been together on the Nile long enough to be 
 fairly intimate and to dislike each other as 
 thoroughly as one does dislike an uncongenial 
 travelling companion. Since then they had ex 
 changed an occasional call and now Viola was 
 somewhat anxious to see the woman who had 
 accepted her cousin Dudley and refused 
 Matthew Porter. 
 
 When Viola first arrived, there were other 
 callers and the talk was general. " Miss Buck 
 ingham and I have faced the Bedouins to 
 gether," said Margaret, " and fought side by 
 side against the horrid extortioners of back- 
 shish." 
 
 " And climbed the pyramids together," put 
 in Viola, " or been dragged up them by a horde 
 of shrieking savages." 
 
 " So you see we are old friends," the hostess 
 continued. 
 
 " And soon to be new relations," was Miss 
 Buckingham s final comment. 
 
 After the two were left alone, the conversa- 
 110 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 111 
 
 tion became more intimate. To be sure, you 
 are Dudley s cousin, aren t you? " Margaret 
 began. 
 
 " Si pen 3 protested Viola. Then she added : 
 " Of course, I ve come to congratulate you, with 
 all my heart." 
 
 Margaret was watching her visitor closely, 
 though the long, drooped eyelashes somewhat 
 veiled the inspection. Word had come, in a 
 roundabout way, to the Fergusons, of Porter s 
 latest social move, and there seemed to be some 
 thing there which it would be interesting to 
 investigate, when the right moment should ar 
 rive. 
 
 " So good of you," she murmured. " You 
 probably know as well as any one whether there 
 is any cause." 
 
 If she thought to disturb Viola by such at 
 tacks as this, she did not understand her. " If 
 you mean as to Dudley, he will make his way 
 in the world," was the imperturbable answer. 
 
 "Will he make mine?" 
 
 That depends upon whether yours is his." 
 
 " You think he s incurably selfish, don t 
 you? " Margaret spoke with exquisite simplic 
 ity, as if the idea were rather novel. 
 
 " Don t you? " answered Viola, with equal 
 simplicity, but of a very different kind. 
 
 Margaret lifted her eyebrows in an unpleas 
 ant way quite usual with her. " A man is so 
 apt to be one thing to his own family and 
 another thing to to strangers." 
 
112 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Ah! " was the cahn response. " I suppose 
 as a stranger you find him so trying that you 
 are anxious to get into the other relation." 
 
 The talk lapsed momentarily. " Perhaps it is 
 a mistake to marry in any case," Margaret sug 
 gested at length. 
 
 " Really, I m not in a position to say, though 
 I incline to that view, unless one is of a very 
 domestic temperament. I shall be glad to hear 
 your opinion about it later." 
 
 " Later, yes but how about too late? " was 
 the thoughtful comment. " You see, the trouble 
 is/ she went on, leaning her head on her hand 
 and looking out at the pale blue February sky, 
 " the trouble is, one has got to be either mar 
 ried or not married." 
 
 " It does seem so," agreed her visitor. 
 
 " If you re married, you re a slave, vexed, 
 thwarted, and tormented at every turn, no life 
 of your own, no independence. But if you re 
 not married, you re nobody, a maiden aunt, 
 a utility, a withered excrescence, you cumber 
 the earth, unless you are ready to run at every 
 body s beck and call. When one begins to get 
 a clear view of a certain age, one takes these 
 things in. You must have done so often." 
 
 " Well," answered Viola, with her usual tran 
 quillity, " there s no doubt about the age in my 
 case; but I don t feel the state of things to be 
 quite so desperate. You appear to me to look 
 at it always from the point of view of other 
 people. An unmarried woman may seem a 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 113 
 
 withered excrescence to others some others 
 and some unmarried women ; but I don t see 
 why she should be so to herself. I have thought 
 that if she chose, she might be full of sunshine 
 and ripe sweetness and might radiate a good 
 deal of the same to those about her." 
 
 Margaret lifted her eyebrows again in that 
 ugly, sarcastic way she had. " You re an op 
 timist, aren t you? Like Mat Porter." 
 
 " I don t know about Mr. Porter. And I ve 
 never thought myself much of an optimist. An 
 optimist is a person who tries to make the best 
 of what he feels to be a very bad bargain. 
 That s why they re so tiresome. I believe in 
 taking life as it is." 
 
 But Margaret was not interested in abstract 
 views of life. She wanted the personal element. 
 " I ve understood that you do know about Mr. 
 Porter," she said. 
 
 "Ah?" was the cool reply. 
 
 " Why, yes, who told me now? That he had 
 been to your your what shall I call them 
 evenings? " 
 
 " Well, you might call them evenings if 
 you like. Why shouldn t Mr. Porter come to 
 them? " 
 
 " No reason none in the world. I suppose 
 there s no reason why anybody shouldn t come 
 to them. Only " 
 
 " Only? " repeated Viola, but with no annoy 
 ance in her tone and very little curiosity. 
 
 " .Only he seems out of place there. You 
 
114 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 see, he s a man who knows nothing about the 
 lighter side of things." 
 
 " I see." 
 
 Margaret went on, without noticing the inter 
 ruption. " He has been brought up and lived 
 most of his life in a small country town and has 
 come very little in contact with the social world. 
 He has singular ideas of his own about politics 
 and an almost stupid confidence in his own ideas. 
 In fact, he is conceited, there s no getting round 
 it. Now, you know, conceited people always 
 take life too seriously and I fancied the the 
 gaiety of your companies wouldn t suit him." 
 
 4 You have heard that my companies are 
 gay, have you? I think you ve never attended 
 them yourself." 
 
 " Yes, I ve heard so." 
 
 " Well," continued Viola, with much appar 
 ent thought fulness, " I ll bear what you say in 
 mind and when he is present, we will endeavour 
 not to be too gay." 
 
 " I suppose the truth is," Margaret added, 
 with even greater thoughtfulness, " the poor 
 fellow needs diversion. His life hasn t been all 
 gaiety lately, and probably he is glad to get 
 into an atmosphere which, for a time at least, 
 may drive away unpleasant thoughts. You 
 know how it is, when things haven t gone just 
 as they should with one. I m sure Mat s 
 friends ought to be very grateful to you." 
 
 Viola reflected more deeply still. " There s 
 something in what you suggest," she said. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 115 
 
 " But to tell you the truth, I haven t noticed 
 that Mr. Porter seemed especially cast down. 
 On the contrary, he gave me the impression of 
 being a man who had put some rather trying 
 things behind him and was looking forward to 
 a great many noble and splendid things." 
 
 " Ah, yes, that s his conceit," interrupted 
 Margaret sharply. 
 
 "Perhaps; but he doesn t give me the im 
 pression of conceit, only of self-confidence and 
 a serene grasp of his own future. But you 
 know him better than I." 
 
 " On the contrary, you show a faculty of 
 positive divination. Do you generally read 
 people so successfully or only those you are 
 interested in? " 
 
 " I can read some people a little," an 
 swered Viola, with much calm. 
 
 Then other callers were announced and the 
 tete-a-tete was at an end. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 ALTHOUGH Porter fully expected Margaret s 
 engagement to Heath, the definite announce 
 ment of it at first brought back all his love and 
 all his suffering. For a day or two he went 
 about his work mechanically, having only one 
 thing really present in his thoughts. Then he 
 pulled himself together, wrote Margaret a brief, 
 frank, affectionate note of congratulation, and 
 tried to forget her in his political interests, 
 which were beginning to assume a more definite 
 form. , 
 
 One or two articles referring in a general 
 way to his candidacy had already appeared in 
 both Republican and Democratic papers. The 
 Republicans were civil, but contemptuous: it 
 was natural that Democratic candidates should 
 turn to outlandish ideas, for on any basis of 
 ordinary common sense the chance of shaking 
 Republican control was too evidently hopeless. 
 The Democrats commended Porter s courage 
 and praised his energy, but hinted that more 
 was to be accomplished on regular party lines 
 than by any fantastic and impracticable notions 
 of reform. 
 
 Porter s association with Smith grew more 
 
 116 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 117 
 
 intimate every day. The two men understood 
 each other. Both were frank, straightforward, 
 in earnest; and Smith admired infinitely in his 
 leader the union of tact with outspokenness, 
 which was by no means so conspicuous in him 
 self. The two went over their campaign plans 
 in many long talks. Rooney must be captured 
 somehow, Smith insisted. His influence in Bos 
 ton was indispensable. 
 
 " How about Maloney? " asked Porter. 
 
 "Oh, the Boss won t interfere. That isn t 
 his line. He ll have a talk with Rooney occa 
 sionally; but if we get Rooney, we ve got 
 Maloney." 
 
 " And Burke? " Porter asked again. 
 
 " Burke won t amount to much for us. But 
 he s something against us. I d like to get him. 
 If he finds we re strong enough, he ll come over. 
 He won t go for the nomination unless he s sure 
 of getting it. Hinckley I believe you ve got 
 to fight. And he s the worst of the bunch." 
 
 " Then we ll fight Hinckley." 
 
 At the very start Porter made it clear to his 
 lieutenant that he did not rely on winning the 
 nomination or the election by machine activity. 
 " I ve no objection to that," he said, " if it isn t 
 too crooked; but it s not my strong card." 
 
 What is your strong card?" 
 
 " The people. When the time comes, I mean 
 to speak right to them. If you ve got a good 
 thing, advertise it. I ve got a good thing and 
 I mean to advertise it." 
 
118 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 "All right," agreed Smith. "Advertise 
 away. It won t hurt/ 
 
 But the labour leader had been in politics a 
 good many years and was a little sceptical about 
 novelties. " Better do what we can on the old 
 lines, anyway. You re the man to capture the 
 boys, if you get after them." 
 
 " Oh, 111 get after them," responded his chief 
 heartily. 
 
 So the two frequented labour reunions and 
 other gatherings both political and social. Por 
 ter spoke when necessary, always with good 
 effect. He shook hands with the boys and the 
 boys wives and made them feel that he was 
 glad to do it as he was. So that one said to 
 another, " He s the right sort, ain t he? No 
 doubt about it." 
 
 All this came easy to him; for in spite of his 
 quiet bringing up, he loved people, loved to 
 watch them, and to study them, and to sympa 
 thize with them. There are men who take in, 
 men who give out, men who do both, men who 
 do neither. The last, nine-tenths of humanity, 
 do not count. The man who gives out always, 
 who is always overflowing with his own ideas 
 and efforts and drenches others with them, may 
 go far. But the man goes farthest who is no 
 more eager to give out than he is to absorb. All 
 really great men have been excellent listeners. 
 And Porter was an excellent listener. He had 
 never read Lord Chesterfield, but he instinc 
 tively followed the maxim of that wise person- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 119 
 
 age: "Want of attention, which is really want 
 of thought, is either folly or madness." He 
 watched every man and woman he came in 
 contact with, watched him and adapted himself 
 to him, without deceit or hypocrisy, merely from 
 sympathy and a desire to understand. This 
 mental attitude is, I take it, the essence of tact; 
 and tact, with strength, is magnetism; or if 
 magnetism is anything more, Porter had it and 
 used it to the best advantage. Even Smith was 
 astonished at his friend s progress. " I believed 
 in you from the start," he said, " but I thought 
 you might be kind of hold-offish. You ain t 
 a bit of it." 
 
 Rooney was not yet captured, however. 
 Smith visited the saloon and tried his hand 
 not very successfully. 
 
 " Porter s a big man and he ll get there. 
 You d better catch on," he said. 
 
 " Is that so? " answered Rooney. 
 
 ;< I suppose you re not fool enough to believe 
 in Hinckley or anything he ll do for you? " 
 pursued the ardent proselyter. 
 
 Rooney winked a slow wink with red jocosity, 
 the meaning of which obviously was that Mike 
 Rooney would not trust any one to do for him 
 but himself. 
 
 After much pointless sparring of this sort, 
 Smith did, however, succeed in persuading the 
 saloon-keeper to arrange an appointment for a 
 visit to Porter s office. 
 
 " You ll have to make it worth his while some- 
 
120 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 how, or you can t touch him. That s the long 
 and the short of it. He s out for the dollars 
 and nothing else," was the disgusted lieuten 
 ant s report to his chief. 
 
 " Well," was the smiling reply, " I m not 
 disposed to come down with the dollars; but 
 we ll see what can be done." 
 
 In spite of his entire confidence in Smith, 
 Porter thought it well to do some independent 
 work on his own account, and he was not with 
 out other agents who could attend to business 
 quickly, quietly, and thoroughly. As book 
 keeper and general secretary in his office he had 
 a certain Joseph Warren, a Foxbridge Irish 
 man, whom Porter had known from boyhood 
 and over whom he had always had considerable 
 influence. This fellow had a natural gift for 
 political management; and a practical training 
 in the lower forms of law business had not in 
 any way interfered with his inborn aptitudes. 
 He was quiet, slow, subtle, cold, dignified in 
 manner, not too much troubled with scruples; 
 and his firm belief in his friend s future made 
 him willing to give his time for a moderate im 
 mediate compensation. During the last month 
 or two, Warren, at Porter s suggestion, had 
 been making biographical investigations in re 
 gard to certain prominent Democrats, with 
 some very interesting and surprising results. 
 Therefore, when the time for Rooney s visit had 
 arrived, Porter simply turned over his collec- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 121 
 
 tion of cards as far as the letter R, refreshed 
 his memory with the facts there recorded, and 
 sat down to wait. 
 
 At or near the appointed hour Rooney en 
 tered Porter s office with his usual swagger, 
 which seemed to fill the world his world. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Rooney," said Porter, 
 shaking hands. " Sit down." 
 
 Rooney sat down, with a moderately genial 
 " good morning." 
 
 Porter proceeded at once to business. " Mr. 
 Smith tells me you re a good man to talk poli 
 tics with." 
 
 " Politics ! " The mere word conveys nothing 
 of the scorn that went with it. " What s poli 
 tics? A business just like any other business, 
 ain t it? That s the way I look at it." 
 
 "Well, you may be right; but you ll agree 
 that there are mighty few businesses that re 
 quire more careful handling." 
 
 Rooney had expected a sermon, not this; but 
 he only grunted. 
 
 Porter continued. " Now I want you to un 
 derstand, Mr. Rooney, that I m in the fight to 
 win. I ve got a few ideas in my pocket that 
 I believe in and that are going to help me along. 
 I don t suppose I need trouble you about those. 
 All you need to know is that I m a fighter, 
 that I m going right down into the ring without 
 gloves, and that I m going to get there. Do 
 you see? " 
 
122 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Rooney appeared slightly impressed, only 
 slightly. If he saw, it was with a very per 
 turbed and shadowy vision. 
 
 The attack was renewed in the same tone. 
 " I suppose you want to have the Democrats 
 win, Mr. Rooney? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I want to have the Democrats win." 
 He couldn t have expressed more ardour if his 
 wife had suggested a visit from a few of her 
 relations. 
 
 " And you d rather have the Democrats win 
 with me than lose without me? Wouldn t 
 you? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, you re all right." But again the 
 tone implied that it was all very far away from 
 Michael Rooney. 
 
 Porter was not discouraged, however. " Well, 
 then, if that s the way you feel, you might as 
 well get down and dig; for as I told you before 
 I m going to be the Democratic candidate for 
 governor of Massachusetts next fall and the 
 Democratic party s going to win. And Roo 
 ney," Porter was slower and more impressive 
 now "I m not the kind to make promises 
 and I won t go into office tied up in any way; 
 but I m not the man to forget my friends, either. 
 If I m elected, there ll be something for those 
 that have helped me provided they behave 
 themselves and deserve it." 
 
 This sounded more like politics as Rooney 
 understood them. But it wasn t practical. He 
 always believed in the bird near by and now he 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 123 
 
 thought was the time to see what kind of a bird 
 it was. 
 
 " Say, Mr. Porter," he began, with a curious 
 whine in his tone, " this sounds pretty big. But 
 I can t get my mind off somethin nearer home." 
 
 " Ah? " said Porter, gravely curious, " some 
 thing nearer home? " 
 
 " Yes. You see, it s this way. I m kind of in 
 trouble." 
 
 His tone demanded sympathy, but none was 
 forthcoming; so he continued. " It takes a lot 
 of money to run a family like mine." How 
 large a family it was, he did not state; but 
 Porter happened to be aware that it consisted 
 of Mrs. Rooney, whose fat cheeks showed no 
 signs of trouble, and one daughter who prom 
 ised to be as fat as her mother and was already 
 as cheerful. " I don t know how it is, but I m 
 always gettin behind. There s a mortgage of 
 a thousand dollars on the old home now." 
 
 Again he paused for a reply, in vain. 
 
 " Of course money s nothin to you, Mr. Por 
 ter. If you could fix it so as to lend me that 
 thousand dollars, my mind would be easy, and 
 I could go into this politics business and make 
 things hustle." 
 
 He dropped his whine towards the end and 
 squared himself a little, as if to say, " My cards 
 are down." 
 
 There was a long pause. Porter s calm, cold 
 face showed absolutely no response to either the 
 whine or the defiance. Turning about to his 
 
124 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 desk, he took some papers from a pigeon-hole 
 and looked them over before he spoke. 
 " There s a little matter here I should like your 
 advice on, before we go any further, Mr. 
 Rooney." 
 
 Rooney had hoped the papers might be blank 
 checks. Now he regarded them with chilly in 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Year before last," Porter went on, still in 
 the same unbending tone, " there was a sharp 
 contest for alderman in Ward Z." 
 
 The saloon-keeper pricked up his ears a lit 
 tle ever so little. 
 
 " The Democratic candidate was O Brien, a 
 friend of Mr. Maloney s. He ought to have 
 won. But near the end of the fight somebody 
 wrote an anonymous letter to the Republican 
 committee, giving a few facts that O Brien did 
 not care to have published. They were pub 
 lished. And O Brien was sorry. I have a copy 
 of that letter here. And I know the man that 
 wrote it." 
 
 As Porter brought out this statement, short 
 and sharp, like a succession of revolver shots, it 
 was delightful to see Rooney s face change. All 
 the indifference faded out of it and instead 
 there came a mixture of anxiety and wrath. 
 
 " Now," continued Porter, " would you advise 
 me to go right to Maloney with this or not? I 
 think it would interest him. He knows that the 
 man who wrote it hates O Brien and would have 
 been glad to down him if he had dared. When 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 125 
 
 he reads this letter you see it says, Maloney 
 would like to run everything, but he ll find he 
 can t. 
 
 " It don t say nothin of the kind," Rooney 
 interrupted. " Maloney s name ain t in it at 
 all." 
 
 " Why, now I look at it again, I see you re 
 right. But how did you know? " As Porter 
 said this, he smiled genially, for the first time 
 during the interview. 
 
 Rooney appreciated the smile, but did not 
 respond. He looked quite as angry as ever and 
 a good deal more anxious. You can t prove 
 anything," he growled. 
 
 " Well," was the calm answer, " I ll try. I 
 don t think Maloney 11 ask very much." 
 
 Rooney s cheerfulness was not increased by 
 this. There s only one man in the world that 
 knows," he said. 
 
 " Then I m that man. But I ll tell you, there 
 are three men at any rate. I don t know how 
 many more. The truth is, my friend, in a little 
 matter of this kind, there ought not to be any 
 man that knows. But the trouble, it seems, was 
 whiskey. Keep away from whiskey. There s 
 a man you drink with occasionally. And he 
 drinks occasionally with a friend of mine." 
 
 " Damn that Henessey! I ll wring his neck." 
 
 That s between you and him, of course," re 
 plied Porter. " But from what I ve heard of 
 him, I hardly think you will." Then he changed 
 his cold, sarcastic manner for the simple, direct 
 
126 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 tone that was natural to him. " Now, Rooney, 
 we ve had this thing out. Let s forget it. I 
 don t want to put you in a hole. You thought 
 I was one of these college-bred fellows that talk 
 a lot about politics, and when it comes down to 
 business, they don t know how the game is 
 played. I wanted to show you that I know a 
 thing or two and am not quite such a fool as 
 I look. Do you believe it? " 
 
 Rooney s face had cleared somewhat during 
 this explanation. " I believe it," he answered 
 humbly. " I guess you re all right." 
 
 "Will you work for me?" continued the 
 other. "Of course I don t expect you to work 
 for nothing. You ll be paid for your time what 
 I can afford. I don t trust you much. You d 
 think I was a fool if I did. I shall keep this 
 letter handy right here see ? As we go on, 
 I expect you ll be more ready to take hold, 
 because you ll find things going my way. If 
 I win out, I can make it worth your while; you 
 know that. And I m going to win out." 
 
 " By thunder, I guess you are." 
 
 The remark had a ring in it that took Por 
 ter s ear, though he did not show it, even by 
 a smile. " Now as to Maloney," he went on. 
 " Had I better see him? " 
 
 " No," was the prompt answer. " Maloney 
 don t want nothing to do with it at all. He s 
 got his hands full." 
 
 " I should think he might." There was just 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 127 
 
 a hint of significance in the observation, which 
 ought perhaps to have made Rooney blush; but 
 nature had guaranteed him against the exhibi 
 tion of any such weakness. 
 
 " But he s on your side," continued the sa 
 loon-keeper. " That is, he will be. You see, 
 he hates Hinckley." 
 
 " Hates Hinckley? I ve been told as much." 
 
 " And Hinckley s dead against you." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Dunno. But he is. Hinckley s the man 
 you ve got to fight." 
 
 "And Burke?" 
 
 " Burke! " Evidently Rooney s opinion of 
 Burke s importance was much the same as 
 Smith s. 
 
 " Well," said Porter, rising. " I m glad we 
 have had this little talk, Mr. Rooney. I think 
 we understand each other. Of course, you know 
 Mr. Smith s managing all the details for me. 
 He ll see you and you and he can work things 
 up together." He held out his hand cordially. 
 
 Rooney took it. " All right," he answered. 
 " And say, Mr. Porter, the boys like you. Keep 
 right after em. That s what does the business. 
 They say there ain t no c stand off and touch me 
 not airs about you, and by thunder, there ain t, 
 either. Good-bye." 
 
 Smith ran in to see Porter that afternoon. 
 What have you done to Rooney? " he asked 
 in amazement. 
 
128 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Porter laughed. " Didn t he tell you? " 
 
 " No. Just said to me, c Say, that Porter s a 
 big man, ain t he? " 
 
 " Well, if he didn t see fit to tell you, I don t 
 believe I d better. These corrupt bargains 
 ought to be kept quiet, don t you think? " 
 
 Smith dropped the subject; but his admira 
 tion for his chief was perhaps more increased 
 by this success than by anything that had pre 
 ceded. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 IN all these personal and political excite 
 ments, Miss Buckingham and her world of 
 fancy almost slipped from Porter s mind 
 almost, not quite. Occasionally, at the latter 
 end of an evening, when he was sitting alone, 
 he thought of Flitters s odd gaiety, of all the 
 jest and song and colour, and felt tempted to 
 renew the unusual experience. Something about 
 the memory of the hostess was pleasant to him 
 also, her grace, her tranquillity, her dignity. 
 
 At length, on a Tuesday, he made up his 
 mind to look in for a little while. The jest, the 
 song, the colour were there just the same, as 
 strange, as fascinating as before. But this time 
 the figure of Viola was much more prominent 
 to him. She puzzled him. Was she glad to 
 see him or not? She was more than courteous, 
 kind and gentle; yet once or twice he perceived, 
 or divined, a subtle, momentary reserve, with 
 drawal, shrinking. What was it? Why was 
 it? 
 
 Something of his doubt and interest was 
 probably manifest to Flitters, as they walked 
 home together. Why don t you go and see 
 her some off evening, when you can talk to her 
 alone? Hasn t she asked you to? " 
 
 129 
 
130 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Yes, she had asked him. And he would. 
 And he did. 
 
 It was a cold, snowy night in the latter part 
 of February, when Porter found himself at 
 leisure and inclined to make his call; and the 
 soft warmth of the library in which Viola re 
 ceived him seemed peculiarly attractive and 
 homelike. Wingate was with her and the two 
 men greeted each other cordially. 
 
 " Do I thank you for the good word in the 
 Intelligencer the other day? " Porter asked. 
 
 " It wasn t so good as I could have wished. 
 But we have to consider many things and many 
 people, you know. Personally, I think you re 
 on the right track and I wish you luck." 
 
 But Viola turned the conversation from poli 
 tics to social and artistic matters. It was 
 mainly between her and Wingate; and Porter, 
 as he listened, answering an occasional question, 
 had time to observe his hostess more carefully 
 than he had hitherto done in the crowd and 
 hurry of her evening assemblies. Yes, she was 
 very dignified, very noble, in her rich yet simple 
 dark dress with its heavy lace on the front and 
 sleeves. There was something commanding in 
 her purely cut forehead, in her deep-set, dark, 
 searching eyes, especially in her voice. Porter 
 did not directly compare her with Margaret, 
 would not have done so, yet none the less he 
 was conscious of a certain distinction which 
 Margaret, with all her grace and all her charm, 
 had never quite achieved. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 131 
 
 Then Wingate departed, suspecting, perhaps, 
 that the other two would get on better without 
 him. Ease did not come quite at once, however. 
 Viola did not wish to talk politics and Porter 
 was not a ready conversationalist on any other 
 topic. She tried to continue the subject she had 
 been discussing with Wingate the possibility, 
 probability, of any characteristic American 
 painting or sculpture. But Porter s answers 
 were vague and did not seem to touch the real 
 merits of the question. 
 
 " Don t you care for pictures? " she asked at 
 length, abruptly. 
 
 " I m afraid I don t know very much about 
 them." Yet his tone was not quite the common 
 one which implies a pride in the confession of 
 ignorance, and she felt it. 
 
 "Don t you want to?" 
 
 " Of course; but my life has been busy, and 
 the list of things I know nothing about is so 
 immense that I try to shut my eyes to it." 
 
 " It s a pity to do that," she said, but with 
 gentleness and as if she understood his attitude. 
 " It seems to me that we should keep our eyes 
 open always for things and people. The 
 more one is bent on following one s own path, 
 the more one gains by a glimpse at the paths 
 of others. Don t you think so? " And hardly 
 waiting for his silent agreement, she went on: 
 " Especially as to pictures and everything beau 
 tiful, it isn t a question of knowing at all, but 
 of feeling, of letting one s self feel. Don t you 
 
132 JXCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 think that the thing that stays by us most, that 
 develops and enlarges our natures most, that is 
 most sure and firm and unfailing in these days 
 of doubt and disbelief, is the thing that is beau 
 tiful? " 
 
 She was challenging him, and she knew it. 
 If they were to be friends, associates, if he was 
 to enter her world, if he cared to, he might as 
 well know her creed and where she stood. 
 
 But he received her challenge, not defiantly, 
 rather in a puzzled way, as if he recognized a 
 new standpoint and was seeking to adjust him 
 self to it. "What is beautiful?" he asked. 
 " Isn t that a matter of doubt and dispute as 
 much as anything else? " 
 
 " Ah, no," she answered, with all her quiet 
 enthusiasm. " Not what is beautiful to you, to 
 me. What troubles us who are accustomed to 
 analysis, to trust our cold, uncertain intellect, 
 is the question of what is beautiful to others, of 
 what ought to be beautiful, still the theory of 
 things, the old, old speculation and questioning. 
 What counts, all that really counts is to give 
 yourself up to what is beautiful to you here and 
 now. That stimulates, that enlarges, that 
 broadens and glorifies. It may be that what 
 touches you now may not touch you always. 
 What matter? Leave what is behind and go 
 right on. With every step, the world gets 
 larger and larger and richer and richer." 
 
 There was a pause, while he looked straight 
 at her with a slow, sober effort to comprehend. 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 133 
 
 Then his glance wandered about the room, to 
 the pictures, to the scores of delicate, graceful 
 bits of beauty which she had gathered round 
 her in all her travels. Again the puzzled ex 
 pression came into his face. " Life is so com 
 plicated," he murmured, " when you come to 
 think about it. Your world seems different 
 from mine." 
 
 She made no answer, watching his mental 
 effort, with a curiosity which surprised even her 
 self. 
 
 " I hope you won t think me rude," he went 
 on; "but isn t this ideal you speak of wholly 
 passive, receptive? I believe in that, too, though 
 I m afraid I neglect it; and I am more than 
 grateful for anything that helps me to develop 
 that side of my nature. A man ought to aban 
 don himself to what is not himself, to lie ut 
 terly fallow and let the world play upon him. 
 In the hurry and passionate rush of modern 
 life we forget these things so easily. But, after 
 all, is that the real aim of our existence? Are 
 we anything without activity, good, bad, or in 
 different? It may be small egotism merely, a 
 petty assertion of self in face of the larger 
 working of the universe; but I couldn t be con 
 tent simply to receive. There is so much which 
 it appears to me needs to be done, so much 
 that can be done, so much that I believe I my 
 self can do. I can t abstain from doing it 
 or trying." 
 
 He was saying just what she had said to her- 
 
134 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 self so often lately. These splendid gifts of 
 humanity, these far-reaching powers were 
 they to be all for nothing? The very faculty of 
 reception itself, was it not made so rich and 
 varied that it might lead to richness and variety 
 of accomplishment? Even with beauty did 
 not the abounding, the aching sense of it, in all 
 its golden glory, tend most of all to the pas 
 sionate desire to create, to pour forth more 
 beauty which should bear the own personal 
 stamp of the individual creator? But politics 
 and abruptly she began to speak her many 
 derogatory thoughts. 
 
 " I can understand the desire, the necessity of 
 action," she said. " But you will pardon me 
 in my turn, won t you? politics. I can t quite 
 understand how a person a person like you 
 can have anything to do with them. They seem 
 to me so bare, so sordid, so contemptible. You 
 must have to mix with so many people whom 
 I could not endure." 
 
 He smiled, taking her scorn in good part, 
 even if he felt the haughty sting of it. " The 
 world must be governed, I suppose," he said. 
 " More than that, can there be a nobler, higher 
 form of activity than that of providing for and 
 watching over the general welfare, of standing 
 by the machinery which must run smoothly for 
 the happiness, the existence of every human 
 being, high or low? " 
 
 "It sounds well," she answered; "but then 
 the trouble must be with our way of doing it 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 135 
 
 this popular government, democracy, uni 
 versal suffrage, mob rule. How disgusting it 
 all is! As if the majority were not fatally 
 stupid, ignorant, blundering, michievous. To 
 go on the theory that the greater number are 
 necessarily right, when it is so obvious to the 
 shallowest comprehension that the greater num 
 ber are necessarily wrong! " 
 
 You misunderstand, you misjudge," he in 
 terrupted, not smiling now, but with an eager 
 ness, an intensity, which astonished her and fixed 
 her attention at once. "It is true that a hun 
 dred years ago everybody thought that democ 
 racy meant the millennium. Now that it has 
 come, we see that it does not mean the millen 
 nium any more than other foolishly heralded 
 panaceas for the varied ills of poor humanity. 
 And some, the best, rush to the other extreme 
 and are for rejecting it altogether. Yet, when 
 you look at it soberly, perhaps democracy has 
 done all that could be expected of it. As I said, 
 you misjudge it. Nobody pretends that the ma 
 jority is all-wise, or all-virtuous. Far from it. 
 The theory of those who believe in democracy 
 and I am one of them is that the majority 
 will govern themselves better than any class can 
 be trusted to govern them. An upper class or 
 a despot may know better; but will any upper 
 class or any despot do better? Any class, no 
 matter how high or holy, will think of itself 
 first and of the people only afterwards. The 
 average man of the people wants good govern- 
 
136 MATTHEW TORTER 
 
 ment because he has everything to gain by good 
 government, everything to lose by bad." 
 
 " But how can they know? " she asked, more 
 with the desire to hear his answer than to push 
 her own argument. " They are so easily de 
 ceived and so often." 
 
 " That is true," he said frankly. " That is 
 the great weakness. But the people must learn, 
 are learning, will learn. What is a hundred 
 years to work out such an experiment as this? 
 Human organizations are not perfected at once, 
 but only with shocks and jars, perpetual break 
 ages and set-backs, failure, disappointment, in 
 finite labour and sacrifice. Are we to give up 
 and stand aside, to say the task is hopeless and 
 nothing can be done, because everything does 
 not go just as we wish it? " 
 
 " But the people as individuals," she urged, 
 "the surroundings, the associations?" 
 
 He smiled, as he had done at first, when she 
 introduced his own personal part in the matter. 
 " Well," he said, " I suppose you ll think I m 
 not very fastidious; but I like the people, all 
 the people. They not only interest me, they 
 attract me. I don t find them very different in 
 politics from what they are in anything else. 
 Many are smooth and dishonest, many are 
 rough and honest, some are dishonest and rough. 
 All think of themselves before they think of 
 you or me or the other fellow. But I don t find 
 any faults in any of them that I haven t my 
 self, though sometimes I succeed better in keep- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 137 
 
 ing them under, sometimes not so well. There s 
 something warm about humanity to me, even 
 when it lies and steals and is obnoxious gener- 
 ally." 
 
 She listened with profound attention, but 
 made no answer. 
 
 When the clock had ticked solemnly for a few 
 seconds, he spoke again. " I must go. When 
 I came here, I had no idea of talking shop. I 
 wanted to get into your atmosphere of 
 beauty. Politics are not beautiful, I admit. 
 And I need the other. I know I need it." 
 
 She took no notice of this; but when he rose, 
 she shook hands with him and said earnestly: 
 " I liked your talking shop. It s all rather new 
 to me. I m afraid I m not much of a democrat 
 by nature; but it s very interesting. Come 
 again." 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IT was a pleasant day for Robert Hinckley 
 when he succeeded in getting Burke to dine 
 with him. Hinckley s social ascent from the 
 gutter had been laborious and doubtful, much 
 retarded by Mrs. Hinckley, who, good-natured, 
 fat, red-faced, and effusively vulgar, would have 
 presided more aptly in the kitchen indeed, it 
 was said she had formerly done so than in the 
 dining-room. Hinckley knew very well that 
 even Burke represented by no means the top 
 of the Back Bay tree. He knew also that al 
 though Burke himself accepted the proffered 
 hospitality for purely political reasons, Mrs. 
 Burke, and that very airy young personage, 
 Miss Margaretta Burke, would as soon have 
 dined in the county jail. Therefore the pleas 
 ure, like most of our pleasures, was somewhat 
 embittered in the mixture; and the bitterness 
 showed itself in the form of sharp previous ad 
 monitions to the unhappy Mrs. Hinckley. 
 Poor woman, her husband did not try to save 
 much of the artful smoothness of his tongue for 
 her and she had learned long, long ago, that an 
 instrument may be very smooth and also very 
 hard, very sharp, and very stinging. She cared 
 
 138 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 139 
 
 nothing for political glories which simply kept 
 Bob away from home, nothing for social tri 
 umphs which meant that he would run after 
 women who would laugh at her. The gutter! 
 She would rather have stayed in it, as she was 
 born, and swum around contentedly with a 
 drake who was good to her and an endless brood 
 of little ducklets, cackling and scolding. Now 
 there were no little ducklets, and the great house 
 on the north side of Beacon Street seemed 
 lonely as the grave. 
 
 " Tom Burke," she said, when her husband 
 announced the visitor. " Well, he ought to be 
 good company anyway. Why doesn t he bring 
 his wife along? " 
 
 " His wife wouldn t sit at the same table with 
 you," was the amiable answer. 
 
 " Oh, she s another swell, is she? There was 
 a Mrs. Tom Burke Nellie Flaherty she was 
 over on Columbus Avenue. I guess she 
 wouldn t ha been ashamed to sit with me. And 
 I d rather it was her that was coming. Do you 
 remember her, Bob? You used to be sweet on 
 her." 
 
 " No," said Bob, brutally. " And see here. 
 Get up a good dinner. That s about the only 
 part of the thing you can do if you haven t 
 forgotten." 
 
 " I haven t forgotten. You think I m only 
 fit to be your cook, Bob, don t you? But I am 
 your wife. You can t get rid of me for any of 
 your swells. Oh, yes, I ll have a good dinner." 
 
140 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 She did, taking a humble pride in being able 
 to do one thing that would please him. She had 
 a good cook and a skilful butler, and it would 
 have been difficult to find a better prepared or 
 more attractive dinner in Boston. Nevertheless, 
 as long as she was present, there was no ease 
 about it. Her nervous fear of her lord and 
 master was equally manifest in what she said 
 and in what she didn t say, and was far from 
 lessened by the quiet sarcasm with which he 
 treated her. Even Burke s natural Irish seren 
 ity and sweetness could not warm the atmos 
 phere. He tried talking politics, but Mrs. 
 Hinckley, as her husband kindly explained, did 
 not know the difference between a ballot and a 
 balloon. He introduced the theatre; but she 
 had no taste for anything but a vaudeville show 
 and didn t dare to say so. In desperation he 
 took up summer resorts; but Mrs. Hinckley 
 had little knowledge of such places. She had 
 once visited Bar Harbor. " But the women 
 were too stuck up to speak to me; so I walked 
 the piazza for three days and came home." 
 
 After this the conversation drooped, till the 
 two gentlemen were left alone to their liqueur 
 and cigars. 
 
 " And now about politics," Hinckley began. 
 
 " Just so," agreed the other, with an uncon 
 scious expression of relief which was perfectly 
 visible to his host s keen eye. " About poli 
 tics." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 141 
 
 " Porter s been making progress since we saw 
 each other last." 
 
 " So I hear. He s an up-to-date man, Porter 
 is." Burke s tone expressed something of dis 
 couragement and something of grudging admi 
 ration. 
 
 " Well, he s got some new ideas, they tell 
 me," Hinckley went on, in a slow, meditative 
 fashion. " Believes in some dodge or other for 
 giving the governor more power. That s a nice 
 thing, when you re going to be governor your 
 self, if you can work it. And he s in for 
 reform wants to abolish grafts and clean up. 
 It s wonderful how these people who have never 
 had a chance to make any dirt themselves want 
 to go in and clean up." 
 
 "Reform! Ideas!" repeated Burke, with 
 vast contempt. " I m so sick of all that. What 
 good does it do? A great shouting for some 
 thing impossible till you re elected and then do 
 nothing." 
 
 " Just so," assented the chairman quietly. 
 " You and I know that in politics, as in every 
 thing else, a man is looking out for himself. 
 He may ride a high horse on the stump, but 
 when a good graft comes his way, who would 
 be fool enough not to take it? They talk of 
 buying votes. Who wouldn t buy votes, if he 
 could get them cheap enough? " 
 
 This was pretty plain talk for the gentleman 
 Democrat to swallow, as the speaker shrewdly 
 
142 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 guessed. Hinckley saw no other candidate at 
 the moment who would serve his purpose so 
 well as Burke; but Burke was not a man to 
 inspire unlimited confidence. Now seemed a 
 favourable opportunity for finding out whether 
 there was anything in him but twaddle. 
 
 " Hm hm " he stammered, floundering 
 like a horse pulled up too short. " Isn t that 
 putting it rather strong, you know? " 
 
 " You think so? Not too strong for Porter. 
 He s out for reform; but I notice he isn t above 
 a few other little tricks. Whenever there s a 
 labour meeting, he s there, shaking hands all 
 round and setting up the drinks. He s after 
 the wives, too, and daughters. Goes to dances 
 and tells em all that father s the biggest man 
 out. He s a clever one." 
 
 Burke s face again expressed disgust. " I 
 hate that way of doing things," he cried. " Of 
 course, if a man honestly likes the people and 
 goes about among em for the fun of it, that s 
 one thing. I can take a drink with the boys 
 any time, and enjoy it. But we all know Por 
 ter isn t that kind of a fellow, likes to get off 
 by himself with a book. It s hypocrisy, that s 
 what I call it, damned hypocrisy." 
 
 But even on the expletive his voice weakened, 
 as he caught the chairman s cold and cynical 
 eye watching him. " That s right," said the 
 chairman, " damned hypocrisy. It s fortunate 
 you re born to the business and don t need any 
 damned hypocrisy to do it well. For a man 
 
WCATTHEW PORTER 143 
 
 would have to be a double damned hypocrite 
 to get ahead of Porter." 
 
 Burke looked exceedingly discontented and 
 puffed at his cigar for awhile in silence. 
 
 " Of course you ve heard that he s got Smith 
 working for him for all he s worth? " Hinckley 
 asked. 
 
 Burke nodded. " He isn t worth much." 
 
 " Did you know he had Rooney pinched, 
 too?" 
 
 This time Burke waked up and responded 
 with energy. " Rooney? How in thunder? " 
 
 "That s what I d like to know. We d all 
 like to know. It s just another of Porter s 
 little tricks. All damned hypocrisy." 
 
 " Well," said Burke, thoroughly disgruntled, 
 " I wouldn t have believed a man like Porter 
 would have come to that sort of thing. Sets up 
 for being a reformer, rides the high horse, lec 
 tures everybody for political dishonesty, and 
 then puts himself into the hands of fellows like 
 Smith and Rooney." 
 
 " Everybody who wants to succeed in politics 
 has got to come to that sort of thing," com 
 mented the chairman. " Call it damned hypoc 
 risy or whatever you please, a man who does 
 dirty work has got to do it with dirty tools." 
 
 More discontent on the visitor s part, more 
 puffing, and more silence. Somehow he did not 
 feel that he was being treated with all the defer 
 ence that a prospective governor deserved. 
 
 But Hinckley had pushed his lesson far 
 
144 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 enough. Just at present Burke was his strong 
 est card, though a weak one ; and it was no time 
 to throw him away. So the chairman dropped 
 his cynicism, smiled softly, and put magic into 
 his voice. All damned hypocrisy a spectator 
 would have said; but one doesn t discern these 
 things so well when one is the object of them. 
 
 " Mr. Burke, you ve got it in you to beat this 
 fellow. As you say, he has to put everything 
 on; but you do it naturally. You re the most 
 popular Democrat in Massachusetts to-day, and 
 I might say the most popular man without ly 
 ing. You ve got the party behind you and Por 
 ter hasn t, for all his Smiths and Rooneys. 
 We ll lie low, and when the right time comes, 
 we ll put you through." 
 
 The first words of this speech washed the 
 discontent from Burke s countenance, a fact 
 which probably lowered him more in Hinck- 
 ley s opinion than anything that had gone 
 before. " Of course, you know more about it 
 than I do," said the most popular man in 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 " I know all about it," was the quiet re 
 joinder. " You can have the nomination, if you 
 want it. And I believe you can have the elec 
 tion. The state is as tired of the Republicans 
 as the country is." 
 
 " I m not so sure of that," was the modest 
 comment. 
 
 " Well, there s no doubt about the nomination 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 145 
 
 anyway. Naturally there ll have to be some 
 money put out." 
 
 " I suppose so." Burke and money were not 
 friendly. He had a fair income from his law 
 practice, and his wife was rich, but he never 
 knew where the dollars went. 
 
 " Well, you leave that to me," Hinckley con 
 tinued, mentally registering another black mark 
 against his client. " Now let s go over the 
 ground a little." 
 
 So they canvassed the different sections of 
 the state, discussing this man, that man, and 
 the other, as prominent in local Democratic 
 circles, and checking off each one as likely to 
 be favourable to Porter or the reverse. The 
 same with the newspapers. Some were regular 
 old reliables, sure to support the machine and 
 any candidate for whom the machine tipped 
 them the wink. Others were cranky, sore over 
 some grievance, always inclined to take up with 
 any new man or notion that presented itself. 
 These must be fixed, if there was any way to 
 fix them. 
 
 Through it all Burke found his host s man 
 ner flattering, caressing, cajoling. It was, 
 " This editor will be in your interest, I think." 
 " The chairman of that committee is a sorehead, 
 but he couldn t resist you." " You d better see 
 Jones and say a word to him. You can do it 
 just right." The butter was not spread too 
 heavily, just heavily enough; yet even Burke 
 
146 JKATTHEW SORTER 
 
 was not altogether a fool and he did not trust 
 Hinckley entirely. He noticed that when an 
 issue was especially important and a man espe 
 cially doubtful, Hinckley said, " I ll see him," 
 not " you." And he suspected dimly that in 
 discussing committees and newspapers Hinck 
 ley was as anxious to get information about 
 Burke s strength as to give it. But this was 
 all vague. The dinner had been good, the 
 wines delicious. At the moment, Burke did 
 believe himself to be the most popular Demo 
 crat in Massachusetts; and if this was true, 
 what possible interest could Hinckley have to 
 interfere with him? So he smoked and sipped 
 and enjoyed himself; and if smoking and sip 
 ping and enjoying himself could have fitted 
 a man to be governor, no candidate, from North 
 Adams to Provincetown, could have had a better 
 chance. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 VIOLA had found her visitor interesting, more 
 interesting when she thought him over after 
 wards than even when he was present. His 
 theories of politics and democracy were quite 
 new to her and her whole nature rebelled 
 against them. She did not want to believe that 
 the people were competent to govern. She 
 wanted the governing to be done by a class 
 a heaven-sent class her class. Yet when she 
 thought of the heaven-sent class as personified in 
 Dudley Heath and set Porter over against him 
 Well, those things were out of her sphere. 
 But Porter had expressed an interest in her 
 world of art and thought and beauty. There at 
 any rate she could help him. And she felt a con 
 siderable curiosity as to how soon he would 
 come to be helped. 
 
 The curiosity gave place to marked disap 
 pointment when he had come and she had 
 missed him. This was on a Friday when he had 
 no reason to expect her to be at home. He 
 came again on the regular Tuesday; but some 
 sudden necessity kept her away and he found 
 only Miss Tucker and two or three other mem- 
 
 147 
 
148 MATTHEW PORTER 
 
 bers of " the family." Afterwards Miss Tucker 
 sounded his praises to her niece: " such a gen 
 tlemanly man and knew the Tuckers in Fox- 
 bridge. You don t feel that he s making fun 
 of you, as so many young people do nowa 
 days." 
 
 Then Viola wrote a note of apology for her 
 absence. " I rarely miss more than one or two 
 Tuesdays in the year. Come again soon and 
 
 see." 
 
 On the next Tuesday every one was full of 
 the comic opera. Flitters had written the 
 libretto in a week after the subject was first 
 mentioned. McCarthy s methods were less 
 rapid, but the score was completed at last and 
 Flitters s universal acquaintance procured the 
 acceptance of the piece, with the promise of its 
 production at the end of the season, somewhere 
 about the middle of May. Now, toward the 
 latter part of March, rehearsals were beginning, 
 and every one at Viola s had heard scraps of 
 the music and the text, and was anxious to 
 hear more. 
 
 " Just a hint or two," said Flitters, as he 
 seated himself at the piano. " Enough to give 
 you an appetite, not enough to satisfiy it. 
 1 Mosquitos is the name, as you ve heard. 
 Chorus, dressed as mosquitos, of the innumer 
 able sweethearts of a gentleman, who, with 
 lamentable incapacity for profiting by experi 
 ence, has got engaged to one in every place he 
 came to and has come to a good many places. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 149 
 
 Ravishing the mosquito music is, simply ravish 
 ing, as light and graceful as the buzz and mo 
 tions of the creatures themselves. You wouldn t 
 think it to look at Eugene, would you? I know 
 he would like to play it; but I will." So he 
 did, and sang a verse here and there, as light 
 and graceful as the music. Then he went on 
 and gave them other bits, with a trailing com 
 ment of explanation. " The last wooing of 
 him of the many loves. For there comes a 
 final wooing that gets him into trouble. The 
 pitcher that goes too often to the well you ve 
 heard the proverb. Eugene has put a wonder 
 ful plaintiveness into it, I think and so have 
 I. The long-drawn melancholy sweetness of 
 the utterance of a man who is in the irresistible 
 grasp of fate, the most fatal fate of feminine 
 witchery. 
 
 1 Oh, pitiful young man struck blind with beauty ! 
 1 C est Venus toute entiere a sa proie attachee. 
 
 Who wouldn t drop into his arms, or like a ripe 
 cherry into his mouth? She, the inimitable, final 
 she, the fatal she, is about to, when but I 
 won t spoil my climax. Then there s the polit 
 ical chorus. We must have that, and you must 
 all sing it. Wait." He repeated the words to 
 them and played the music two or three times 
 over. They halted a little on the first two 
 verses; but by the third they got fairly going 
 and made the chandeliers ring, Wingate with 
 
150 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 his solid bass, McCarthy with his baritone, Flora 
 with her glorious soprano, and the others as 
 they could. 
 
 " They filled their pockets with clean bank-notes, 
 They stuffed their breeches, they stuffed their coats, 
 Oh, gee, but they went after votes ! 
 
 Hurrah for Billy, the guv nor. 
 They grafted him on to the green Bay State 
 With all the rest of their lovely slate ; 
 And then they sat down by the corpse to wait. 
 Hurrah for Billy, the guv nor." 
 
 Just as the thunder of this delectable verse 
 began, Porter appeared at the door of the room. 
 Busy as they all were with their music, no one 
 but Flitters saw him, and Flitters, appreciating 
 the situation, put redoubled vim and vigor into 
 his own performance and that of the others. 
 Then, stopping short and rising, he cried, 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, behold the man him 
 self." At which the rest of the company, be 
 coming aware of the audience, burst into min 
 gled laughter and cheers. 
 
 "You see," said Flitters, stepping forward; 
 and he met Porter s undisguised astonishment 
 with such explanations as were necessary. 
 " You can t sing, of course ; or won t," he con 
 tinued, " too dignified such a lamentable, 
 useless thing this dignity. The rest of us will 
 go on enjoying ourselves, while you are wish 
 ing you knew how." 
 
 Porter accepted the invitation and felt that 
 he was enjoying himself very much, exchanging 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 151 
 
 a few words with his hostess, and watching the 
 tumult of gaiety on the other side of the 
 room. 
 
 First Flitters went on with his extracts from 
 the opera, the others listening, applauding, and 
 joining in when they could. Wingate was 
 standing by Ruth and she seemed kinder to him 
 than usual, giving her eager interest to all he 
 said, her round, childish face breaking now and 
 again into its wonderfully dimpled smile. Win- 
 gate felt the influence and became animated in 
 his turn, so that Porter could not help noticing 
 it. 
 
 " Wingate seems " he began. Then he 
 stopped. 
 
 * Yes," said Viola, with a half -smile, which 
 did not last, " he does seem I am sorry." 
 
 Porter soon perceived why she was sorry. 
 
 " Well," said Flitters, " I could keep it up 
 for ever; but I know Eugene is dying for his 
 turn. I can t understand why he hasn t taken 
 it away from me before. Go on, old man, 
 charm the ladies. I can t do anything but 
 amuse them." 
 
 Without a word of comment or apology. 
 McCarthy, casting just the briefest glance at 
 Ruth and Wingate, took up his violin and be 
 gan. And even those who had heard him many 
 times before, said they had never heard him 
 play as he did then. To be sure, his technique 
 may not have been that of an older and more 
 highly trained musician; but he was playing 
 
152 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 his own music and putting all himself into it, 
 not the common self, the self which had had no 
 breeding, no education, did not know how to 
 walk, or sit, or stand, or speak; but the in 
 stinctive, higher, eternal self, which thought 
 nothing, heard nothing, cared for nothing but 
 music, which dreamed music all day and re- 
 dreamed it all night, and had but one passion, 
 one ambition, to speak in music for ever to the 
 whole listening or unlistening world. It was a 
 sort of fantasia that he played, a summing up 
 of the music of his opera; now weird, wistful, 
 plaintive, pathetic; now swift, gay, glittering 
 and sparkling with infectious laughter; now 
 witchlike, fairylike, full of strange intervals 
 and shifting rhythms, as the dance of motes in 
 sunlight or of fays in the melancholy glimmer 
 of the waning moon. 
 
 When he stopped, his audience was too much 
 overcome even to applaud and Flitters spoke 
 for them all, crying out, " Oh, Eugene, Eugene, 
 you don t look it. If you did, you would look 
 like Apollo and Orpheus and Saint Cecilia 
 not Raphael s all rolled into one. And you 
 don t, you know." 
 
 But the most obvious tribute of admiration 
 was unquestionably Ruth s. The minute Mc 
 Carthy began to play, her eyes, her whole soul 
 through her eyes, were fixed on him and con 
 tinued fixed until the end. The expression of 
 her face followed the expression of the music, 
 saddened, drooped, when the music saddened, 
 
MCATTHEW PORTER 153 
 
 and when the air was gay, lightened, laughed, 
 danced, as if all the forest elves were dancing 
 in her heart. Not a whisper, not a look, did 
 she give to Wingate during the whole per 
 formance, any more than if a stranger were 
 beside her or no man at all. 
 
 And Porter, noticing this after Viola s re 
 mark, although he also was sufficiently ab 
 sorbed and astonished by the music, could not 
 but see what it meant. " About Wingate," he 
 said to his companion later, " I am sorry, too." 
 
 Then they all had supper as gaily and as 
 abundantly as usual, and McCarthy subsided 
 into the commonest of common mortals. His 
 attitude towards Ruth was exceedingly curious. 
 It seemed that in his mere manly capacity he 
 felt as if she were above him, out of his world 
 altogether, although his art world might be 
 equally above her. He was certainly not atten 
 tive to her in the ordinary sense; yet the atten 
 tions never for a moment unmaidenly - 
 which her exuberant admiration lavished upon 
 him were accepted as the dry earth accepts 
 a shower. 
 
 And Wingate felt himself to be ridiculous, 
 as a man of forty does feel himself in such 
 circumstances much more so than he actually 
 is. To escape the feeling, when they went 
 down-stairs again, he sought out Porter, while 
 the others entered into a new game, of Flit- 
 ters s invention, an ingenious modification of 
 capping verses, in which Flora and Laura 
 
154 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 shone, while Constance floundered hopelessly 
 and had always the bewildered air of a person 
 who has hurried to catch a train and lost it. 
 
 " A little young for us, perhaps," Wingate 
 suggested. 
 
 " Well, no, I hope not," answered Porter 
 contentedly. " I don t like to think I m too 
 old for anything. But a little too clever for 
 me. My wits never work well on that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 Your wits? They re all right and more. 
 Porter," went on the journalist, after a pause, 
 "I ve got to the point where I want to have 
 a talk with you." 
 
 " Talk away," was the smiling reply. 
 
 " Just so. I ve followed your ideas for a 
 good while your ideas and you I ve heard 
 about Smith and Rooney and I believe you re 
 on the track of a big thing." 
 
 " Well," agreed Porter, with his usual frank 
 ness, " I believe so, too. But you never can 
 tell." 
 
 "No; but I ve thought it over a good deal 
 and I ve made up my mind that the Intelli 
 gencer will back you." 
 
 "Wingate!" exclaimed the other. This was 
 more than he had hoped for as yet. 
 
 " Of course, you know what I mean. We re 
 an independent paper and we can t run a cam 
 paign, tie ourselves body and soul to it, after 
 the fashion of some of our esteemed contem 
 poraries. But we ll back you as strongly as we 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 155 
 
 ever backed any one give you a good word 
 whenever we can." 
 
 " I understand all about it," Porter answered. 
 " I hope you understand what it means to me." 
 
 " I needn t tell you," went on the other, 
 " that I m not fully posted on your theories. 
 It s you I believe in. I gather that you want to 
 shake up the legislature and put it into its place 
 let the governor do the governing." 
 
 Porter nodded. 
 
 " And have a cabinet, put the secretaries 
 right into the legislature, as in England. 
 Does that mean that the initiative of all legisla 
 tion should come from them? " 
 
 " No, no, I shouldn t tie it up in any such way 
 as that. There must be a certain amount of 
 private legislation always. What I care most 
 about is free and open legislative discussion, in 
 which the executive, as representing the whole 
 state, should have a leading part. To that end 
 I think all bills of general importance should be 
 at least approved by the department officers." 
 
 Wingate listened thoughtfully. Then he 
 brought up other points, on all of which Porter 
 gave a ready answer, though he admitted some 
 times that it was not a final one. " This is 
 theory so far," he said. " Like any theory that 
 is good for anything, it must be subject to 
 modification in practice. Let me try it once. 
 Only let me try it. The main principle is 
 right. The details will take care of themselves." 
 
 " You ll take care of them," agreed Wingate 
 
156 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 with enthusiasm. " I like the sound of the 
 theory and should be glad to see it tried any 
 way. But I like the sound of you better still. 
 There s a ring to you. And now," went on the 
 newspaper man, in his short, sharp fashion, 
 " about money." 
 
 "Money," repeated Porter. "Well, of 
 course, money is a difficulty; but, after all, it s 
 very early yet to talk seriously about a cam 
 paign. I suppose, if I m nominated, the state 
 committee will see to money." 
 
 " That depends," was the sage comment. 
 " But you must get nominated first. It s there 
 that the fight s coming. I understand Hinck- 
 ley means to make a fight of it. Money will 
 be awfully useful." 
 
 " Well," came the slightly reluctant answer, 
 " I suppose you ll think I m a fool, but I m 
 putting what little money I can spare into it 
 myself. It isn t much. Not enough to do any 
 good, I m afraid. Smith and Joe Warren are 
 acting as a committee for me, and they have 
 charge of things." 
 
 " I don t think you re a fool except in one 
 way to be wasting your own money when 
 you might get all you want from other people. 
 Now you leave this end of it to me. I can t 
 talk nor get up theories. And I don t meddle 
 with practical politics. I can t run your cam 
 paign. But I can raise money. I ll be treas 
 urer of your committee, if you like, and I ll 
 see that you have enough." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 157 
 
 At this point the approach of Viola inter 
 rupted them. " I ll drop in at your office in 
 a few days, when I ve looked over the ground," 
 Wingate said. 
 
 " Really," answered Porter, " I hardly know 
 how to thank you." 
 
 " Can t you gentlemen give some assistance 
 over there? " Viola asked. 
 
 " What is going on? " inquired Porter. 
 
 " Well, I believe they are all absorbed in 
 writing and drawing advertisements for 
 Hanks s very useful article of dress. George 
 professes himself to be at a loss, says the reser 
 voir is absolutely exhausted, although I believe, 
 as a matter of fact, he is making three sugges 
 tions to all the others one. And he has offered 
 a prize for the design which shall be at once, 
 as he says, most decorous and most decora 
 tive." 
 
 " And the prize is ? " Porter asked. 
 
 " A pair of the very useful articles in ques 
 tion." 
 
 " Just what I need," laughed Wingate, seiz 
 ing the excuse to slip in beside Ruth, who, at 
 the moment, had got separated from McCar 
 thy and was looking eagerly over Laura s 
 shoulder. 
 
 But Porter remained where he was and 
 Viola sat down beside him. 
 
 " I m afraid you think we have a good deal 
 of foolish laughter here," she said. 
 
 " On the contrary, I like it. I should like. 
 
158 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 to laugh myself at a great many things 
 but I don t quite know how." 
 
 "Yes," she agreed. "It s odd. One has 
 that sense of the immense absurdity of things 
 
 not so much a bitter, satirical, as a really 
 humorous sense of the trifling unimportance 
 of all the great, serious things that men strug 
 gle and fight for. One has it quite as much as 
 George, perhaps. But one doesn t laugh as he 
 does. A feeling, a wholly false feeling of one s 
 own dignity interferes do you think?" 
 
 " I don t know. I ve never learned to laugh 
 
 never lived with people who laughed. It s 
 quite strange to me; alters the face of the 
 world, in fact. I don t think the Puritans ever 
 laughed." 
 
 " No, I don t think they did. They left all 
 the laughter behind them over in Shake 
 speare s England. And though we aren t Puri 
 tans it is so hard to shake off the inherit 
 
 ance." 
 
 " I don t want to shake it off," he said. 
 " Only to add something more to it, something 
 different." 
 
 She shook her head. " It can t be done, I m 
 afraid. Can the sunny temperament which 
 enjoys and the iron temperament which accom 
 plishes be yoked together? " 
 
 Flitters had been watching this serious con 
 ference for some moments. Now he came over 
 and interrupted it. " What are you talking 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 159 
 
 about? " he asked, in his odd, abrupt, yet gen 
 tle manner. 
 
 " Laughter," was Viola s brief answer. 
 
 " Mon Dieu! Who would have thought it? 
 Don t. You aren t fit to. You, Viola, you ve 
 lived in the shadow of the rose of joy all your 
 life and you ve never caught a grain of the 
 fragrance. You surround yourself with laugh 
 ter; but you walk through it like a ghost at 
 a banquet, chilling every one you touch. You 
 were born serious and I really believe you pass 
 hours in serious reflection on the possibilities 
 of life which will never be anything but pos 
 sibilities or impossibilities for you. Can t 
 you take the actual for what it is? And he 
 that Porter he s a statesman. To be a states 
 man you must be without a sense of humour. 
 You speak of Lincoln and Csesar perhaps? 
 But they were the exceptions. Your Burleighs, 
 your Cromwells, your Richelieus, your Wash- 
 ingtons, your Pitts, your Websters, witty oc 
 casionally, but they took themselves and their 
 place in the world with such ponderous serious 
 ness, as this man does. You discuss laughter! 
 Separate, I beg of you, if you want the rest 
 of us to enjoy ourselves. Porter, go talk to 
 Flora. She won t discuss laughter with you; 
 but she ll laugh at you. I ll talk to Viola." 
 
 Porter smiled and did as he was told. Most 
 people did with Flitters. Somehow what he 
 wanted seemed to be the thing you wanted 
 yourself. 
 
160 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 As he walked home later, in the fresh March 
 wind, Porter tried to adjust himself to these 
 new elements of life. It was strange to laugh 
 at everything, even at the august common 
 wealth of Massachusetts strange, but with 
 a certain sweet savour. Yet the commonwealth 
 was there all the same, calling him, as it seemed. 
 And Wingate s offer was certainly very en 
 couraging, more so, perhaps, than anything that 
 had yet occurred. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 " WELL, Dudley, you re very late about com 
 ing to be congratulated," said Viola to her 
 cousin, as he entered her music-room one Sun 
 day evening. She had been reading a solid book 
 on government, something not unusual with her 
 of late; but she put it down quietly in such 
 a way that her visitor hardly noticed it. 
 
 " Congratulated? " he echoed in pretended 
 bewilderment. " Oh, yes, that little matter. 
 You congratulated me long ago. Have you 
 forgotten? " 
 
 "No; but that was only a moment at the 
 Woodrows not formal. You ve drawn quite 
 a prize. I know Miss Ferguson." 
 
 " Yes, she told me about your call. I wish 
 I d been there." 
 
 " We got on very well without you. Your 
 fiancee is able to hold her own." 
 
 " Just so and a lot of other people s, too. 
 I know you look down on her, Viola. But then 
 you look down on me as well. She and I under 
 stand each other." 
 
 * That s fortunate," answered Viola, with in 
 finite gravity. " I should imagine you were 
 wonderfully adapted to each other. And it 
 may be that marriage will sober you, Dudley." 
 
 161 
 
162 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Sober me? Let us pray that it may exhil 
 arate me. I am one mass of dull, sodden 
 soberness already. I look for exhilaration from 
 morning to night; but I can t find any. As 
 for the adaptation, I should have been so much 
 more adapted to you, Viola." 
 
 This sudden declaration did not in the least 
 disturb the object of it. " I hope your future 
 bride understands your astonishing frankness 
 as well as your other good qualities." 
 
 " And more than imitates it, I do assure you. 
 Her father, who is thoroughly middle-class, cul 
 tivates conventional mendacity; but she speaks 
 right out, unless, of course, lying is an object. 
 Probably you ve observed that brutal frankness 
 is one of the distinguishing marks of the upper 
 class?" 
 
 " In which it resembles the lower," was the 
 mild suggestion. 
 
 " Exactly as against the hideous hypoc 
 risy of the middle. In its fight with the middle 
 class the aristocracy turns naturally to the mob, 
 expecting, of course, to trample on it after 
 wards." 
 
 " Well," Viola answered, " in this country 
 one has a haunting feeling that one may belong 
 to the middle-class one s self; and I dislike it 
 as much as you do." 
 
 " There never was more of a thorough born 
 and bred aristocrat than you are," was the re 
 assuring comment. " Now Porter, on the 
 other hand ." He paused a moment to 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 163 
 
 watch the effect of the name; for of course 
 that was what he had come for, at Wood s 
 instigation, after keeping away all winter to 
 allow their scheme a chance to work. But 
 there was no visible effect whatever, and he 
 went on. " Porter is middle-class all through, 
 his ambitions, his ideals, fancy ! his morals, 
 and his person. That s the only real satisfac 
 tion that I have derived from my engagement 
 so far the comfort of having beaten him." 
 
 " And you expect to go on beating him? " 
 she asked with perfect apparent indifference. 
 
 He looked at her carefully before he an 
 swered. Was she indifferent? Was she iron 
 ical? He could not tell. " I don t know," he 
 said. " You don t think success in love a bad 
 omen? But then there s so little love about it. 
 Yes, of course, I expect to beat him." 
 
 " Do you know, I doubt very much whether 
 you do beat him." 
 
 Still the same vague, uncaring tone. It irri 
 tated him. What did she mean? Had Porter 
 interested her, bored her, exasperated her? He 
 must make a bold push to find out. 
 
 * Look here, Viola," he began, his manner 
 decidedly more serious than it had been hitherto, 
 " You remember our talk several months ago? " 
 
 If she did, she made no sign, just kept her 
 dark eyes fixed on him, without a smile. 
 
 " Of course you do. And Porter s been here 
 often, as I know. Now, what do you make of 
 him? " 
 
164 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 He put the question short and sharp, as if to 
 force an answer from her suddenly; but the 
 answer was neither sudden, nor slow, nor 
 doubtful, nor embarrassed. " I like him," she 
 said. 
 
 " Like him! Lord, what a woman s answer. 
 Can it be that you are a woman, Viola? " 
 
 " I have never seen any reason to suspect it. 
 Did you wish me to dislike him? " 
 
 " What has liking to do with the matter any 
 way? I wanted you to work on him, to use 
 your great eyes, and your slow, seductive, 
 haughty ways, and your money, to wean him 
 from his nonsense and make a good, common 
 place, useful man of him. Can t you do it? 
 Have you failed? " 
 
 " My slow, seductive, haughty ways, and my 
 money," she repeated, not in the least angry, 
 but as impenetrable as ever. " I m not sure 
 that I care for the role" 
 
 But he was beginning to be angry, or pre 
 tended to be. " Why couldn t you find that out 
 before? It wasn t for me, you know, that you 
 were doing it. It was for your country, pa 
 triotism, the Roman matron act. There s a 
 great deal of the Roman matron about you." 
 
 " You think so? " she answered, not varying 
 a grain from her non-committal tone. 
 
 Heath showed his vexation by getting up and 
 taking a double turn through the room. Then 
 he sat down again and put his feelings into 
 words. " I wouldn t have believed it possible. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 165 
 
 I wouldn t have believed it possible. That you, 
 acute, keen-sighted, cynical, with your finger on 
 the central knot of human motives, of human 
 selfishness, should have been duped by the shal 
 low reveries, the tall talk of such a cheap dema 
 gogue as Mat Porter! Perhaps you believe in 
 his famous nostrums, his universal panaceas for 
 making a heaven on earth and getting rid of 
 all us grafters and old, corrupt, rascally poli 
 ticians. Perhaps you believe he s going to be 
 governor, and wish him to be, and are anxious 
 to be enrolled yourself in the glorious army of 
 middle-class reformers. Oh, Viola, my cousin! 
 I am disappointed in you." 
 
 She heard him out with perfect patience and 
 a serene smile. She did not even hasten about 
 her answer. " Oh, Dudley, my cousin, you 
 overheat yourself. I have not enlisted as lieu 
 tenant in Mr. Porter s Quixotic campaign to 
 make over the world. I dislike the middle-class, 
 with their stupid, narrow conventions and hypo 
 critical prejudices, as I ve told you. But I like 
 Mr. Porter. I m sorry you object to the 
 phrase." 
 
 " Like him," repeated Heath, with scorn re 
 newed and redoubled. Then he asked, again 
 sharp and sudden, " Does he like you? " 
 
 But Viola was unmoved as ever. " Hadn t 
 you better ask him?" she said. "And now, 
 Dudley, if you don t mind, suppose we talk of 
 something else. Not that I have any objection 
 to talking of Mr. Porter. Only I think we ve 
 
166 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 exhausted the subject. He isn t important 
 enough. Do tell me what your wedding plans 
 
 are." 
 
 Heath s only great quality, the one that had 
 pushed him up in the world, was his power of 
 controlling himself; so he talked about his wed 
 ding plans for half an hour and then took his 
 leave. 
 
 Tuesday morning he found Wood in his of 
 fice. 
 
 " I ve seen Viola," Heath began shortly. 
 
 " Well? " 
 
 " I don t know whether it s well or not. It 
 was always your scheme, you know. I never 
 believed in it much." 
 
 " You never believe in anything much. It s 
 your weakness." 
 
 " And my strength." 
 
 " I don t think you ll find it so," Wood re 
 marked. " However, that s not business. 
 Doesn t she take to him? " 
 
 " I m afraid she does." 
 
 " Well, that s what we want, isn t it? Does 
 he take to her? " 
 
 " I asked her and she told me to ask him." 
 
 "Ah? Sharp, isn t she? Does he go there 
 much, do you know? " 
 
 " So, so from all I hear," Heath answered, 
 with indifference. Then he added more ener 
 getically: " It s a fool scheme, I always said 
 it was. It s running too much risk. She s too 
 deep for me. It wouldn t surprise me a bit if 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 167 
 
 she were to fall in love with him and marry 
 him." 
 
 " I thought, from what you said, she was 
 sharp," Wood objected. 
 
 " She is sharp in her way; but so is he 
 damned sharp." 
 
 " Well," Wood went on. " That s all right. 
 You remember, when we first talked of this 
 thing, I said I didn t care if she did marry him. 
 If she does, he won t count any more. I ll work 
 it so he won t count any more." 
 
 " I m not so sure you can." 
 
 " Wait and see, my boy. Meantime, we ve 
 got other fish to fry. It seems early to begin; 
 but it s none too early. Porter s at it lively 
 enough Smith fixed, Rooney fixed. I can 
 understand Smith. But Rooney must have 
 meant a good job of handling. He s got 
 Hinckley dead against him, though, and 
 Hinckley s worth all the rest." 
 
 " Burke? " was Heath s monosyllabic in 
 quiry. 
 
 And the monosyllabic answer, "Burke!" 
 covered that branch of the subject. 
 
 Well, what are you going to do about it? " 
 inquired the Republican candidate. 
 
 Wood was thoughtful for a few moments 
 and chewed the end of his cigar. " Of course, 
 we can t do anything very active. On our side 
 you re all right. Nobody doubts that. As to 
 the Democrats, keep close watch and lend a 
 hand where we can. Burke is the man for us. 
 
168 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 If Hinckley sticks to him and Hinckley 
 knows as well as we do that Burke can never 
 be elected, it s only to down Porter why, 
 Burke stands a fair chance for the nomination 
 and it s up to us to do Burke a good turn in 
 a quiet way. The papers, Dudley, the papers, 
 
 it s all in the papers just now. And say, 
 
 "he went on, after a little more meditative 
 chewing " you would be just the man to 
 write a good story about your own good quali 
 ties, wouldn t you?" 
 
 " I should say so," was the hearty reply. 
 
 " That s it. Anybody else would be likely to 
 miss some of them. Well, write it and I ll have 
 it printed just to keep things moving. Want 
 to write one about Porter, too? " 
 
 " Rather! " 
 
 " Do it. And praise him. Say that it s for 
 tunate the Democrats have taken a turn at last 
 and got a man who might almost be a Repub 
 lican. Point out that he s old New England 
 stock, conservative, has no sympathy with ex 
 treme labour or radical ideas, inclines more 
 every day socially to the better sort and is a 
 thorough gentleman. Of course a man of that 
 stamp can t be elected, because he s only a kind 
 of imitation Republican, but it s a credit to the 
 state to have him for a candidate. Strange, 
 though, that the Democrats should have sense 
 enough to put him up. Then sign it Old Re 
 publican. See?" 
 
 " I see. Why not sign it Old Fox ? " 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 169 
 
 Wood paid no attention to the compliment. 
 " Then we ll have one or two letters written to 
 rub it in along the same lines: just a gentle 
 hint now, you know, about his getting thick with 
 your cousin and her crowd. Well work it 
 harder later, when it will do more good." 
 
 " Want me to write em all? " inquired the 
 nephew with sympathy and appreciation. 
 
 " Why not? I haven t got any one who can 
 do it better. And it may keep you out of 
 mischief for awhile." 
 
 "But my senatorial duties?" Heath ob 
 jected. 
 
 " Those are mischief, aren t they? " 
 
 " That sounds more like me than you," said 
 the other, rising. " But it s the busiest men 
 that do the most work. And I ll write you 
 such a set of stories as you never read before." 
 
 So saying, he took his leave, and as he walked 
 up to the State House, he thought of the stories 
 and of several other things. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 HEATH S visit, his open cynicism, his cool 
 selfishness, left Viola more appreciative than 
 ever of Porter s charm, of his earnest, simple, 
 manly enthusiasm. True, she had told Heath 
 that she liked the man and not his ideas. 
 Hitherto it had certainly been so. Heath was 
 right when he said there never was a more 
 thorough aristocrat bred and born than Viola 
 Buckingham. She had all the instincts of her 
 race and of her class. She was ready to pat 
 ronize her inferiors, ready to help them, ready 
 to make any sacrifice for them provided it 
 was always understood that they were her in 
 feriors. Such had been her training, such had 
 been her inheritance from both sides of her fam 
 ily for generations back. Nothing in her sur 
 roundings had ever interfered with these in 
 stincts or modified them. Yet she was thor 
 oughly just, thoroughly noble. Her mind 
 reached far and pierced deep. The tone and 
 temper of a man like Heath disgusted and 
 revolted her. If aristocratic ideas and princi 
 ples produced such men as that, perhaps aristo 
 cratic ideas and principles were wrong, or not 
 wholly right. If democratic ideas produced 
 
 170 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 171 
 
 such men as Porter, they might at least be 
 worth looking into. His ideas would be worth 
 looking into, at any rate, and she would look 
 into them, when the proper opportunity should 
 offer. 
 
 On the Tuesday evening after her interview 
 with Heath, Porter appeared for a little while. 
 There was not much chance for discussing ideas. 
 The surroundings were unfavourable. But he 
 talked to her and Wingate and Flitters about 
 the progress of the campaign. 
 
 " Such dirty tools as you have to handle," ob 
 jected Wingate. " That s the pretty, one of 
 the pretty parts, of politics." 
 
 Yes," said Viola. " I don t see how you or 
 any sensitive person can stand it." 
 
 Porter laughed. "I m afraid I m not sensi 
 tive it must be that I m not. For I don t 
 mind the dirty tools, as you call them, in the 
 least. They interest me, they amuse me. I 
 have a real personal fondness for the dirtiest 
 of them. They re all human, the dirtiest often 
 times the most so; really much more human 
 than half my instructors in college used to be, 
 for instance," 
 
 "Good, Porter!" cried Flitters, much ap 
 proving. " I believe, if you weren t so abom 
 inably earnest, you might have a genuine sense 
 of humour, after all." 
 
 But Wingate stuck to his point. " Hinckley, 
 you find him charmingly human? " 
 
 Still Porter laughed. " I ve no doubt Hinck- 
 
172 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 ley s particularly human. But he s no tool of 
 mine. I wish he were. He s digging as hard 
 as he can against me all the time with the point 
 and both edges." 
 
 " Well, Rooney, then. I know you ve got 
 him by his humanity, I suppose." 
 
 Why, yes, I think we might say very much 
 by his humanity." 
 
 "And Smith but Smith s different. I 
 know him and like him." 
 
 " So you ought," answered Porter warmly. 
 " Smith is different; not more human than the 
 others, but a sharper tool, certainly as bright 
 as steel and as reliable. He s my right-hand 
 man, Smith, frank, straightforward, energetic. 
 Of course he s only a mechanic and can t quote 
 the classics; but he has all of the gentleman 
 that s worth having." 
 
 " I should like to see Mr. Smith," said Viola, 
 in her tranquil way. She was thinking how 
 different Porter s description of his friends was 
 from Heath s. "Could I?" 
 
 " You, Viola? " interposed Flitters. " Don t 
 you know your limits yet? " 
 
 " He s not your sort, Viola, exactly," Win- 
 gate agreed. 
 
 But Viola, still tranquil, repeated her ques 
 tion to Porter, " Could I? " 
 
 Porter hesitated. " Why, of course " 
 
 " I don t mean in a crowd like this. But 
 couldn t you bring him quietly some evening? 
 He d be glad to talk about you, I ve no doubt. 
 
tKCATTHEW SORTER 173 
 
 Probably you think, as George does, that I 
 don t know my limits. I do. That s why I am 
 anxious to get outside of them." 
 
 " You ll find a territory so vast that you ll 
 be lost in it," murmured Flitters the irrepressi 
 ble. 
 
 But Viola took no notice, simply waited, with 
 out speaking, for Porter s answer. 
 
 It came, as quiet as her speech had been. 
 " To tell you the truth, I doubt whether he will 
 come. As I said, after all, he s only a mechanic. 
 He has taken up, with natural aptitude, the 
 essentials of a gentleman; but he hasn t the 
 habit of drawing-rooms. I should have to tell 
 him frankly that he is invited to satisfy a lady s 
 curiosity. Probably he won t care to do it. 
 He will suspect it means being made fun of." 
 
 " You know it wouldn t mean that," Viola 
 said. 
 
 And Flitters: " You surely do, Porter. You 
 know Viola by this time well enough to appre 
 ciate that she may be the occasion of the laugh 
 ter which is in others, but she never laughs 
 herself." 
 
 "Tell him," Viola went on, "that I am a 
 woman" ever so slight a stress on woman 
 " who has lived in a narrow world and wants 
 to see something of a larger one. And tell him, 
 especially, that I am a woman who is beginning 
 to believe in you and would like to see him 
 because he believes in you." 
 
 " To get some support for your wavering 
 
174 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 confidence? " asked Porter, with a smile. " I ll 
 tell him." 
 
 " Exactly? " 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 "And you ll bring him?" 
 
 " Why, yes," he answered, after a moment s 
 hesitation. Under the circumstances I think 
 I may say I ll bring him." 
 
 And in the course of a week or ten days he 
 did so. Smith had refused absolutely at first. 
 But Porter pleaded. 
 
 "What does she want to see me. for? " an 
 swered the Labourite. " Just to laugh at me. 
 I m not the man for parlours and fine furniture. 
 She s a swell and a snob. You can talk to that 
 sort of people, because you can talk to any 
 body; though, to tell you the truth, Mr. Por 
 ter " he stopped short. 
 
 "Tell the truth, by all means," said his 
 leader, smiling. " It s your strong point 
 yours and mine." 
 
 " Not when it s none of my business," was the 
 abrupt reply. 
 
 " But this is your business. You were going 
 to say that the less I have to do with swells 
 and snobs, the better, weren t you? " 
 
 Smith spoke up, square and frank as usual: 
 " Well, I was. You can damn me, if you like." 
 
 " I sha n t damn you. Indeed, I m much of 
 your opinion. I don t think the smart set and 
 I should get on very well. But this Miss 
 Buckingham seems to be altogether different. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 175 
 
 She s rich, I suppose, and she has some loafers 
 about her. But she strikes me as a noble, ear 
 nest woman who wants to make her life bigger." 
 
 " Handsome? " asked Smith, not so much in 
 solently as curiously. 
 
 Porter stopped to consider. " Handsome? 
 Why, yes, she is. But you d never think about 
 that." Then he quoted to Smith the exact 
 words in which Viola had framed her invitation 
 and ended by saying: "If you ll go, I shall 
 take it as a personal favour." 
 
 " Oh, if you put it that way, I go, of course. 
 What do I care anyway? Don t suppose I m 
 afraid of her." 
 
 Viola had been notified beforehand and had 
 arranged to have no one with her but Miss 
 Tucker, thinking it would be easier so for all 
 concerned. When the guests arrived, Porter 
 devoted himself to Miss Tucker, who was al 
 ways ready with new questions about the Tuck 
 ers of Foxbridge, and Viola and Smith quickly 
 began an animated conversation. 
 
 " I take it as very good of you to come here, 
 Mr. Smith," Viola said. 
 
 " I m glad to come, if you want to see me." 
 On the whole, his manner was successful just 
 a shade of assertion in it, perhaps, the least sug 
 gestion of " You think I m not at home; but 
 I m at home anywhere," yet hardly more than 
 became a proper, manly independence. And 
 Viola s ease, her grave beauty as she sat oppo 
 site him, all in quiet black and white, had their 
 
176 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 natural effect and soon made him as easy as she 
 was. 
 
 " I do want to see you," repeated the hostess, 
 " and I ll tell you why. I ve always lived 
 well, I won t call it an idle life, there s been 
 some profit in it, I think; but idle you would 
 call it certainly. And I ve always regarded 
 politics as rather rather " 
 
 " Dirty? " Smith suggested. 
 
 " Well, yes, we ll say dirty. Since I ve 
 known Mr. Porter, I ve come to think that, 
 dirty or not, perhaps one ought to learn some 
 thing about them. And Mr. Porter says 
 you " 
 
 " Says I know something about em, dirt and 
 all? " 
 
 " He didn t put it in any such way as that. 
 But he gave me to understand that you were 
 a thoroughly honest, high-minded man, who de 
 voted your life to politics and took very radical 
 views of things." 
 
 Smith laughed. " Say, I d better have kept 
 away after he d said all that about me, hadn t 
 I? " 
 
 Viola laughed in sympathy. " I have no 
 doubt you ll live up to your reputation. And 
 you are a radical, I suppose? " 
 
 He shook his head. " I don t know much 
 about such big words and theories. I leave that 
 to Mr. Porter. I just know there s lots of 
 things wrong in this state and I d like to see 
 some of em come out right, before I die." 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 111 
 
 "I know there are plenty of things wrong; 
 but what special things have you in mind? Do 
 you cherish a violent hatred for all capitalists? " 
 
 " I ain t a fool," was the brusque reply. " I 
 shouldn t mind being a capitalist myself. As 
 long as there s men who like better to save their 
 money than to spend it, there ll always be some 
 rich and others poor. And it s right. What 
 I want is to have everybody have a square deal." 
 
 " And you don t think everybody has a - 
 square deal even under our free govern 
 ment? " 
 
 The labour leader s countenance indicated a 
 civil effort to suppress contempt. " Not ex 
 actly," he answered. " I want to see things 
 fixed so that the capitalist pays his taxes like 
 the poor man instead of getting off for two- 
 thirds of his property scot free. I want to see 
 things fixed so that the capitalist can t go into 
 the legislature and buy laws that will rob the 
 people to fill his pocket. When we ve got a 
 few of those little things attended to, everybody 
 will have something like a fairer chance any 
 way." 
 
 The man s tone was slightly truculent; but 
 Viola felt that he was honest in his purposes 
 and she enjoyed listening to him. For half an 
 hour she kept on putting questions and he an 
 swered them readily, simply, always intelli 
 gently, though it was evident that his informa 
 tion was limited and his range of thought nar 
 row. At length, when he had given her an ex- 
 
178 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 tensive account of the reforms which he desired, 
 she asked : " And do you feel confident that 
 Mr. Porter will be able and willing to do all 
 this or help to do it? " 
 
 He paused for a moment, looking at her 
 keenly. " No," he said, " I know well enough 
 Mr. Porter and me don t agree on everything. 
 It may come round, after he s elected, that I ll 
 have to stand up and fight him. But it ll be 
 a square fight, because he s a square man. And 
 that s why I m for him every time. I believe 
 he s got a good idea. It sounds well anyhow 
 and I d like to have him have a chance to try it. 
 But he s worth a good deal more than any idea. 
 If you d knocked round as much as I have in 
 politics, you d know a man, when you saw r him. 
 And Porter s a man. It ain t only that he s 
 got nerve. It ain t only that he s clean and 
 straight. I saw that first and that was enough 
 for me. But now I know he can talk to men 
 and handle em. When a man can do that and 
 is straight, too, he s my man every time." 
 
 But here Porter joined them and interrupted. 
 " It seems to me I heard my name," he said 
 smiling. 
 
 " What if you did? " Smith answered. "You 
 didn t hear anything that could hurt your feel 
 ings, I guess." Then he continued his talk to 
 Viola, while Porter sat down and listened, with 
 much amusement. " Yes, Porter s the man for 
 me and I believe he s the man for the party and 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 179 
 
 the state. But there s got to be some tall fight 
 ing done. Did you see those two editorials in 
 the Mercury, one about Porter and the other 
 about Heath?" 
 
 " I believe Mr. Heath is Miss Buckingham s 
 cousin," Porter interposed. 
 
 " That so? " Smith inquired, his tone imply 
 ing no congratulations. 
 
 Viola assented. " But don t mind that," she 
 said. 
 
 "I won t," Smith replied. "He s a smart 
 man enough, and knows all the tricks of poli 
 tics, and he s got Wood behind him. Is he your 
 cousin, too? " 
 
 " No," answered Viola. And she straightened 
 up ever so little as she said it. 
 
 " I m glad of that, because he s a rascal." 
 
 "And the editorials?" inquired the lady of 
 the house. 
 
 " You haven t seen em, then? You d better. 
 One cracked up Heath sky high. Well, that s 
 all right enough. And the other hit Porter in 
 the back, said he was just the sort of man the 
 Republicans would be likely to choose, conserv 
 ative, respectable, in with the swells, and a lot 
 more said it was queer the Democrats should 
 think of such a man anyway. Everything s 
 fair enough in politics, I suppose; but that s 
 sharp work. I ll bet a good deal Wood or 
 Heath wrote it himself both of em." 
 
 " I can t think Mr. Heath would do such a 
 
180 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 thing," protested Viola, for form s sake, though 
 in her inmost heart she thought he might very 
 well. 
 
 " Of course, he s your cousin," replied Smith 
 apologetically. 
 
 " At any rate, you can t let such insinuations 
 go," urged the new convert. All the immense 
 spirit of fight in her was roused by this under 
 handed method of attack. 
 
 Porter laughed. " Such vile insinuations as 
 that I am a gentleman? " 
 
 But Smith was on his hostess s side. " That s 
 what I say. Give em as good as they send. 
 Put it right back to em." 
 
 Porter was graver as he answered. " Very 
 well. Why don t you write a reply and set me 
 straight? " 
 
 " Can t," said Smith. " I m no writer." 
 
 " Do you want me to do it myself? I don t 
 care for that way of going to work, writing 
 such things without a signature. Later on I 
 may decide to use the papers and come right 
 out with all I have to say not as to this 
 matter, but as to everything over my own 
 name. I d rather some one else would do it, 
 though; that is, it would be more effective." 
 
 " Who can? " asked Smith. 
 
 Viola said nothing, seemed almost to be 
 thinking of other things. 
 
 " As to these editorials," Porter went on, 
 " Wingate was speaking of them yesterday and 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 181 
 
 said he should take some notice of them in the 
 Intelligencer" 
 
 " Oh, yes," remarked Smith, with scorn. 
 " The Intelligencer! " 
 
 But Viola still said nothing. And Porter, 
 thinking she was bored, rose to take his leave. 
 
 When he and Smith were outside together, 
 Porter asked, " Are you as much opposed as 
 ever to my acquaintance with Miss Bucking 
 ham? " 
 
 " She s a fine woman," Smith answered, ener 
 getically. " No doubt about that. And I 
 guess she s interested in our side all right. All 
 the same, that set won t help you much. Look 
 at the Mercury editorial." 
 
 " I sha n t choose my friends to please the 
 Republicans," answered Porter, with a certain 
 haughtiness. 
 
 " That s just what I m afraid you might be 
 doing. All the same, now I ve seen her, I don t 
 know as I blame you." 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A SHORT time after Smith s little journey into 
 the golden world, Porter received a note from 
 Viola. 
 
 "DEAR MR. PORTER: I enjoyed your polit 
 ical friend s visit exceedingly. He is an honest 
 man, and he set me thinking more than I have 
 thought for a good many years. As a result, 
 I want to see you and get light. It seems 
 wrong to ask for your time. Still I do ask for 
 it. Will you come and see me some evening 
 any evening? Only telephone and let me know 
 beforehand. Sincerely yours, 
 
 " VIOLA BUCKINGHAM." 
 
 Porter went, of course. 
 
 As soon as he was seated, Viola began, her 
 eyes very serious and earnest: " Now, Mr. Por 
 ter, I want to know just what your political 
 ideas are. Can I understand them? " 
 
 If you can t, they must be very useless. 
 Think of the people who have got to understand 
 them." 
 
 " Then tell me about them. I ve always 
 despised politics because I thought all politicians 
 
 182 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 183 
 
 were dishonest. Now I ve seen two politicians 
 who are honest and I want to know something 
 about politics." 
 
 Porter took her as seriously as she spoke. 
 " It will be a longish lecture, if I m to make 
 it clear," he said. " I ll be as brief as I can. 
 If I bore you, say so." 
 
 " You won t bore me." She settled herself 
 comfortably in her chair and her brows slightly 
 drawn showed her all interest and attention. 
 
 " My story opens with the legislature," he 
 began. 
 
 " Just one moment," she said. " I won t in 
 terrupt very often. Could you tell me at the 
 start why you are a Democrat? It seems 
 
 He completed her sentence : " It seems like 
 beginning deliberately on the weaker side, I 
 suppose; and then it seems a little low." 
 
 " I didn t say that," she interrupted again. 
 " Of course I know that some of the best men 
 in Massachusetts have been Democrats." 
 
 " But the rank and file don t please you. 
 However, that doesn t count, does it? In the 
 first place, the Republicans have been long in 
 power. All parties in power are conservative. 
 They want to keep what they ve got. You can t 
 make them take hold of new ideas. More than 
 that, my idea, at present, requires insistance on 
 the state governments. It is just as applicable 
 to Federal government and to city; but the 
 state is the place to begin. Now the Republi 
 can party is more and more committed to Fed- 
 
184 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 eralism. National issues, national power, are 
 its whole strength, and it aims more and more 
 to draw all local questions to Washington. The 
 old, fundamental, Democratic principle has al 
 ways been state independence. In the early 
 days the principle was too strong anyway. I 
 should have been a Republican then. Now the 
 danger is wholly in the opposite direction 
 and I am a Democrat." 
 
 Viola nodded. She was listening eagerly and 
 Porter could not help noticing the thoughtful, 
 earnest beauty of her face. " I see," she said. 
 " And now You began about the legisla 
 ture." 
 
 " Just so," he resumed. " When our govern 
 ment state and Federal was made, every 
 body was in fear, first of all, of one man power 
 and the tyranny of the executive. * Separate 
 the executive and legislative powers, was the 
 cry. But the executive and the legislative can 
 not move separately on parallel lines. Unless 
 they can be made to work in concert, one will 
 infallibly dominate. Consequently all govern 
 ing was left practically to the legislature. What 
 does that mean? A mob of two or three hun 
 dred men comes together, without leadership, 
 without definite plan of action, each jealous of 
 the others, each bound to act first and foremost 
 for his constituents and to see that their interests 
 do not suffer, no matter what happens to 
 others. In all that multitude there is absolutely 
 no one who represents the state as a whole, no 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 185 
 
 one whose sole duty it is to see that a proper 
 balance is kept between all these jarring inter 
 ests and that no one section is sacrificed or dis 
 regarded for the benefit of others. Take the 
 most elementary point of all, the finances. 
 Everybody in the legislature is interested to 
 spend. Nobody to save. Every member has 
 some special appropriation to get through for 
 his own district. So long as that goes, he does 
 not care what other members spend. Nay, if 
 they will vote for his measure, he will vote for 
 theirs. Doesn t it seem the first suggestion of 
 common sense that there should be some vigi 
 lant, authoritative officer at the head of the 
 whole department of finance, who should be 
 present at the legislative debates, should con 
 sider and formulate the claims of conflicting in 
 terests, should adjust them in suitable propor 
 tion to means of supply, and then submit the 
 whole in a systematic budget for public discus 
 sion, criticism, and the approval of the entire 
 legislative body in open session? Am I clear? " 
 
 " Perfectly," Viola agreed. " It seems 
 strange that any one should ever have at 
 tempted to do business in any other way." 
 
 " It would seem strange, if we did not under 
 stand exactly how the system arose and did not 
 know that mankind go on doing as their fathers 
 did, no matter how strange the inconsistencies 
 or how obviously absurd." 
 
 " And it is here that your reform comes in? " 
 asked the patient listener, showing the intensity 
 
186 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 of her interest in the fixity of her attitude and 
 of her eyes. 
 
 " Not in the finances alone. In everything 
 I want the governor to govern. Let him choose 
 his own executive subordinates, cabinet, secre 
 taries, whatever you like to call them, let them 
 be each at the head of his own department, and 
 let the power and the responsibility of govern 
 ment be upon them, not upon a disorderly, 
 chaotic mob." 
 
 " But," objected Viola, " you spoke of one 
 man power just now. After all, isn t this rather 
 near it? Perhaps you will think me too igno 
 rant to make objections." 
 
 " If you don t, how should we ever under 
 stand each other? " Porter answered gently. 
 And what impressed Viola all through the in 
 terview was his gentleness. Although he was 
 talking of the deepest interests of his life and 
 his manner showed it, yet there was no raising 
 of the voice, no vehemence, no gesticulation. 
 He was always instantly ready to wait for her 
 objections, patient in listening to them, clear 
 in explaining his point of view. 
 
 " People do not understand," he went on, 
 " that the only way you can get anything done 
 in this world is by one man power. One man 
 power is the greatest agency known to human 
 ity. Only, like steam, or electricity, or any 
 other natural force, it must be controlled. What 
 is the true means of controlling it? Responsi 
 bility. Put your governor at the head of your 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 187 
 
 government. Then elect your legislature to 
 watch him. Let him, or his representatives, 
 appear before it. Let every measure be ex 
 plained and elucidated by public debate, so that 
 the people may see and know at every moment 
 what is being done. You can give any amount 
 of power, so that you couple it with an equal 
 public responsibility. The dread of one man 
 power has always driven men to the other ex 
 treme of legislative government, and what has 
 it ended in logically? In the despotism of 
 Csesar, the despotism of the Medici, the despot 
 ism of Cromwell, the despotism of Napoleon. 
 What has it ended in in this country? Govern 
 ment by committees and commissions, three men 
 power, five men power, a dozen men power, 
 that is to say, generally one man power, and all 
 in the dark, with no responsibility whatever. 
 What is bossism, an irresponsible despotism, 
 if ever there was one, but the result of the rabid 
 fear of one man power, that fear naturally em 
 bodying itself in the chaos of legislative govern 
 ment? Power and open public responsibility 
 combined that is what I am working for." 
 
 At this point Viola stopped him again. The 
 quickness and clearness of her comments made 
 him feel how perfectly she was following him. 
 " Wouldn t this be a very radical change 
 almost revolutionary? " 
 
 " No, no," he answered, " not at all. In the 
 Federal government, if we were dealing with 
 that, it would not require even a constitutional 
 
188 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 amendment simply an act of Congress. One 
 of our strongest arguments is that the matter 
 was brought before the Senate a number of 
 years ago in the Pendleton bill, and the com 
 mittee to which it was referred half Demo 
 crats and half Republicans reported unani 
 mously in favour of it. On this account it 
 might seem easier to begin at Washington; but 
 the national government is too big, too far away 
 from the people. State affairs are simpler, 
 easier to handle; yet at the same time they 
 enter far more immediately into every man s 
 daily life. For this reason the state govern 
 ments need to be emphasized, to be brought into 
 public view, far more than they are. And for 
 myself, if there is really to be a, great reform, 
 I want to see Massachusetts take the lead in 
 it." 
 
 " But in Massachusetts there would have to 
 be a constitutional change? " she asked again. 
 
 " Yes, but that is comparatively simple. The 
 first and main thing would be to get rid of the 
 governor s council, a little legislature, neither 
 useful nor ornamental, hanging about the neck 
 of the executive and strangling him, like the old 
 man of the sea. Here again I am not pre 
 sumptuously urging my own opinion. Two of 
 the wisest and most practical governors Massa 
 chusetts ever had, Long, a Republican, and 
 Russell, a Democrat, urged the abolition of the 
 council a number of years ago." 
 
 He paused and Viola, too, was silent think- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 189 
 
 ing. This was a new world to her and full of 
 perplexing and also exciting possibilities. 
 
 " The governor," she began at length, 
 " doesn t he have a good deal to do already? 
 At least the papers seem to be full of his 
 speeches and goings on." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he sends messages to the legisla 
 ture, to which the legislature, in most cases, 
 pays as much attention as if they came from 
 you or me. And if he is really interested in 
 the public good, he works hard with the other 
 lobbyists to get his measures in by the back 
 door. And he makes speeches at dedications 
 and dinners. He might do a good deal less of 
 that sort of thing and let some one else do that 
 less for him the lieutenant-governor, for in 
 stance. The people would quickly forgive him, 
 if they knew his time was being spent more 
 usefully. Besides, he would have his cabinet 
 secretaries to attend to details and would him 
 self only shape and engineer the general policy. 
 The Prime Minister in England certainly does 
 quite as much public speaking as is necessary." 
 
 "Ah, yes," said Viola, "I thought of that 
 before. I know so little about these things. 
 Still one has read Trollope s novels. Isn t your 
 idea a good deal like the English? Will not 
 some people object to it on that account? " 
 
 " I don t deny the resemblance or that Mr. 
 Marston first took the idea from the English 
 system. But conditions here are so different 
 that it would work out very differently. Be- 
 
190 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 sides, is there any one so foolish as to be unwill 
 ing to take a good idea, even from those he may 
 not like?" 
 
 Viola smiled. " I have been brought up to 
 think that your friends the people are foolish." 
 Then she went on more seriously: " But in 
 England, as I understand it, everything de 
 pends on a Parliamentary majority. How 
 would you manage that? The governor couldn t 
 very well go out, could he? " 
 
 " He might, if it were necessary, change his 
 secretaries; but that isn t my idea of it. I 
 believe that our system is better than the Eng 
 lish just because of its stability. Suppose the 
 governor and his cabinet initiate a piece of 
 legislation and find a majority of the legisla 
 ture dead against them. They push the matter 
 as far as they can, debate it thoroughly, get 
 the public mind full of it, make it perfectly 
 clear whether the opposition is merely factious 
 or represents a general popular feeling. Then 
 if they are voted down, they must withdraw 
 their measure and content themselves with 
 routine business for the remainder of the ses 
 sion. But in the meantime the issue is brought 
 squarely and clearly before the people, and after 
 plenty of leisure for careful consideration, the 
 next election settles it. That is the way I feel 
 that it will work; but of course it is an experi 
 ment; an experiment with almost all the 
 chances in favour of success, but still undenia 
 bly an experiment. Yet, oh, Miss Bucking- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 191 
 
 ham " and now she felt that he dropped his 
 cooler, argumentative tone and gave freer way 
 to the enthusiasm that was in him. His clear 
 gray eye opened wider, his head straightened. 
 " Oh, Miss Buckingham, what an experiment! 
 You see the root, the secret of the whole thing, 
 is that it develops leaders, brings forward man 
 hood and gives it a chance. Our present sys 
 tem of doing everything in dark committee- 
 rooms and lobbies evolves two sorts of men: 
 the cunning, clever, intriguing, unprincipled 
 wire-puller who has the real power; and the 
 amiable, sweet-spoken, empty dummy who 
 comes to the front, wears the frock coat, and 
 does as he is told. Every one complains that 
 good men don t go into politics. Why don t 
 they go into politics? Because of a system 
 which sets a premium on rascality and makes it 
 next to impossible to be successful and honest 
 both. Responsibility is so divided that the good 
 strong man must share all his glory with the 
 weak and wicked and shoulder the blame of all 
 their follies and all their crimes. My plan, if 
 it works, will first of all make such an opening 
 for men that the ablest men in the country will 
 find their place in politics instead of in Wall 
 Street. The thousands of rich young fellows 
 who are dissipating their time for want of a 
 suitable object in life, will have a career that 
 is worthy of them. There will be a chance not 
 only in the government, in the administration, 
 but just as much in the opposition, where the 
 
192 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 keenest and most active minds in the state will 
 be gathered together to watch and criticize 
 every step that the executive takes and to do 
 battle in the legislative arena for a chance to 
 take office and frame measures in their turn. It 
 sounds worth trying, doesn t it? " 
 
 Viola had listened with an ardour answering 
 his own, carried away as much by his passionate 
 energy as by the power of his ideas. These 
 appealed to her immensely, yet something of 
 the old scepticism was not all uprooted yet. 
 " It has a glorious, trumpet sound, as you put 
 it," she said. " But forgive me my old habits 
 of thought, these leaders won t be demagogues, 
 will they, won t cater to the lowest popular 
 passions for their own ends? " 
 
 His answer showed no irritation and no vio 
 lence. " Ah, there is the point," he said. " Who 
 can tell? It all depends on how much you 
 believe in the people, in their good disposition 
 and their intelligence. That they want honest 
 government who can question? Why should 
 the mass of them want anything else? That 
 they should understand all the technical merits 
 of abstract political problems is absurd to ex 
 pect. The one real question is, can they, in the 
 long run, judge the character of men? I be 
 lieve, with Lincoln, that they can. At any 
 rate, the plan which I propose, which will bring 
 men to the front instead of smothering them, 
 is the only thing that offers for salvation. Cor 
 ruption on the one hand, despotic centralization 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 193 
 
 on the other, threaten between them to strangle 
 popular government in this country. The wis 
 est observers tend to agree on that and tend 
 also to agree in general that popular govern 
 ment is a failure. I believe that it has never 
 yet had a chance, and that as long as the legis 
 lature is allowed full swing, it never will have 
 a chance. Let the executive govern, with com 
 plete responsibility to a watchful legislature de 
 bating openly Defore the public, and I believe 
 that the people and popular government will 
 justify themselves. Now you see what I am 
 aiming at." 
 
 She looked at him with thought and wonder 
 and sympathy in her eyes and it was long before 
 she spoke. " To go into politics in that way 
 means something," she said at last. " Such an 
 idea is worth the ambition of a life." 
 
 " I am ambitious," he said quietly. " I don t 
 deny it. I want fame, I want power, I want 
 success. I like all these things. Who doesn t? 
 At the same time, if I know myself, I wouldn t 
 go near politics, as they are to-day, simply for 
 these things, unless I had some higher idea 
 that would make it worth while. If I am 
 right, if my theories are what I think they are, 
 what other wise men, Marston, for instance, 
 have thought they are, success means the 
 governorship, it means making Massachusetts 
 the leading state of the Union, it means a 
 reform the consequences of which may be felt 
 for generations. You think I brag. I don t 
 
194 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 say I can do this. It is all in the if. I may 
 be a wild crank, you know, like so many others." 
 
 " You are no crank, certainly," she answered, 
 with all her quiet earnestness. " I can t tell 
 you how much you have interested me, Mr. 
 Porter. You have opened a new world. Of 
 course it is new, and I am of a sceptical dis 
 position. You will understand that. I want 
 to work it out by myself and read a great deal 
 and ask a great many more questions. I want 
 to make myself mistress of the whole subject. 
 Why can t I?" 
 
 " Most assuredly you can," said Porter, de 
 lighted. 
 
 "And books?" she asked. 
 
 Then he gave her a list of what writings 
 there were with a bearing on the subject. 
 " But it s all in Power and Responsibility, 
 by my friend Marston s father," he said. " He 
 thought it all out and developed it, only he 
 was no politician to put it into practice. 
 Power and Responsibility is the Bible of the 
 whole matter. Study that thoroughly and you 
 will know as much as I." 
 
 So he took his leave and she let him go, with 
 renewed thanks; for she wanted to think over 
 all she had heard. 
 
 Porter did some thinking, too. It was odd 
 that a woman and of all women this woman 
 should wake up to the bare, abstract idea 
 with an interest which hardly any one had ever 
 shown before. Margaret she was clear- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 195 
 
 headed enough, doubtless, could have under 
 stood, if she had wished; but she had never 
 wished, had always treated the whole thing with 
 indifference and contempt. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MEANWHILE work was going steadily on 
 for Porter and against him. Everywhere his 
 personal popularity increased. He made many 
 friends and few enemies. Smith was as loyal 
 as ever and as energetic as ever. Rooney con 
 tinued faithful, not wholly from self-interest. 
 And his devotion was much strengthened by 
 one or two talks with Maloney, the chief of 
 the Boston Democracy. 
 
 " Porter s a big man, I guess," said Rooney. 
 
 " Oh, he s all right," Maloney answered. 
 
 " Of course," continued his follower apolo 
 getically, " he s got to talk for clean politics. 
 That s his long suit." 
 
 " Let him talk. If his talk is straight, then 
 he s the kind of calf that needs more rope. 
 Give him enough and he ll hang himself. If 
 he sets out to clean up the state-house, he ll 
 be too busy to meddle with us. Besides, he 
 ain t elected yet. Anyway, he s against Hinck- 
 ley. That s all I want. Any old knife is good 
 enough for me to stick into Hinckley." 
 
 Hinckley was against Porter. There was no 
 doubt about that. The chairman of the state 
 committee can pull a good many wires and he 
 
 196 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 197 
 
 was pulling them. Burke was no great help 
 to him, however. Burke was unwilling to play 
 false, yet he was anxious to win. He hummed 
 and hawed over the means. But Hinckley had 
 only to dangle the end seductively before his 
 victim s nose and he would follow his leader 
 into almost anything. The process had to be 
 repeated so often, however, that even the patient 
 Hinckley cursed inwardly and was daily on the 
 lookout for some more promising candidate. 
 And Burke, dull as he was, could not help sus 
 pecting this at times. 
 
 "I d like to get Burke," said Smith fre 
 quently to Porter. " As I ve said before, he 
 wouldn t be much good to us, but he s some 
 harm against us. I d like to get him or put 
 him out." 
 
 " Put him out? " repeated Rooney, who hap 
 pened to be listening on one of these occasions. 
 
 Porter s henchman Warren was still busy, 
 doing detective work and all other kinds of 
 work that might be useful, and he and Rooney 
 found each other exceedingly congenial. Rooney 
 took the first occasion to pass on Smith s re 
 mark. 
 
 " Put Burke out? " repeated Warren 
 thoughtfully in his turn. " Well, now, I 
 think that might be done." 
 
 So together the two practical politicians 
 worked up a little scheme which struck them as 
 extremely ingenious. It happened that in 
 Burke s earlier, good-natured, amorous Irish 
 
198 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 career, not so very long after his marriage, there 
 had been one of those scandals which respectable 
 Boston can least tolerate. It had been hushed 
 up at the time and now was so completely 
 forgotten that nothing less than Warren s in 
 defatigable researches would ever have suc 
 ceeded in reviving it. 
 
 " I guess that s about the thing," he said, as 
 he communicated it to his confederate. 
 
 " Say," answered Rooney, " that ll put him 
 out all right, but will Porter stand for it? " 
 
 " Stand for nothing. Not much. I won t 
 ask him." 
 
 "But afterwards?" 
 
 "Afterwards? What s that got to do with 
 it? Afterwards don t count." 
 
 " All the same, he ll talk some." 
 
 Warren shrugged his shoulders. " Oh, yes, 
 he ll talk. He s got to. It s all in the game." 
 
 The next thing was to concoct a newspaper 
 story that would be effective and yet safe. But 
 Warren understood the art and knew others who 
 understood it better. All that was necessary 
 was a very formal and very dignified editorial 
 discussing the difficulty of finding a candidate 
 who should be perfect in every respect. For 
 instance, you might have a man of straw in 
 this case who should be of an old and re 
 spected family, looked up to and honoured 
 everywhere in the community; but he might 
 be distant, unconciliating, people would mis 
 trust him and hold back from him simply on 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 199 
 
 account of his haughty manner. And one or 
 two purely imaginary instances of snub would 
 give this fictitious individual all necessary con- 
 creteness. Another Porter, of course, would 
 be understood might have tact, magnetism, 
 personal charm, might be in himself all that 
 would gather votes by the basketful; but he 
 might have ideas, and as is well known, there 
 is always a class of Democrats and Republicans 
 both, to whom ideas in politics are as poison 
 ous as lobster and milk. Again, there might 
 be a third who should have no ideas and no 
 high-class manners, a jolly good fellow whom 
 everybody liked to crack a joke and take a 
 drink with; but such a man was sure to have 
 something in his past that could be raked up 
 against him. Suppose, etc., etc. 
 
 A good sermon on this text would do, thought 
 Warren, and so thought the obliging editor of 
 the Argus ; whose one object in life, for reasons 
 best known to himself, was to get a slap at 
 Hinckley. 
 
 " Safe, I think?" said Warren. 
 
 " Safe enough," said the editor. " What 
 could Burke do that would not make matters 
 a great deal worse? Safe to queer him, too, I 
 should say. But will Porter like it? " 
 
 " He ll let on he doesn t like it. But just 
 keep it dark. When Burke s out of the way, 
 Porter ll feel better all the same. Every word s 
 true, you know." 
 
 So the Sunday edition of that lurid sheet, 
 
200 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 the Argus, was to be enlivened with a lot of 
 well-seasoned scandal, and Warren found him 
 self exceedingly contented. 
 
 Saturday afternoon, however, Smith came 
 into Porter s office. " Say, what s this about 
 Burke? " 
 
 "Burke?" asked the chief. "What is it?" 
 
 " Rooney was full last night or lively at 
 any rate and he told a man who told me that 
 the Argus was going to put a bomb under 
 Burke to-morrow that would blow him clear out 
 of the state." 
 
 " The Argus? " repeated Porter in disgust. 
 " What has the Argus to do with it anyway? " 
 
 " Search me," answered the leader of labour. 
 
 Porter stepped to the telephone and tried to 
 get Rooney. No Rooney to be found. Then 
 Warren, with equal unsuccess. 
 
 He took up his hat. "I m off for the 
 Argus" he said. This will bear looking 
 into." 
 
 " Perhaps I d better have left it alone," Smith 
 suggested. 
 
 " Hardly. When I want the Argus to run 
 my campaign, I ll let them know it." 
 
 The announcement of Porter s name was not 
 received by the editor with cheerfulness. Says 
 the Chinese proverb, " There are thirty-five 
 resources in a difficulty; but the best is to run 
 away." The editor would have liked to run 
 away; but he couldn t. So he ordered his vis 
 itor shown in. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 201 
 
 " Good afternoon," said Porter. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Mr. Porter," said the edi 
 tor. He was a suave little man and though he 
 was miserably unequal to the occasion, he tried 
 hard not to appear so. 
 
 " I have been told, probably incorrectly " 
 Porter went on, " that you were to print an 
 article about Mr. Burke. All things considered, 
 I think I am justified in asking to see it." 
 
 The editor got up on his dignity, although 
 even then he seemed much shorter than his inter 
 locutor. " Really, Mr. Porter, it is a little odd, 
 you know." 
 
 " I can t help that. Do you refuse to let me 
 see it?" 
 
 " Hm! Ha! Professional secrecy " but the 
 smile that went with the joke was watery. 
 
 " Because, if you do," Porter continued, with 
 out any smile, watery or otherwise, " and if the 
 article is such as I do not approve of, I shall 
 take occasion Monday morning in the Intelli 
 gencer not only to disclaim any connection with 
 the piece, but to express my opinion of the man 
 who wrote it and the paper that printed it. 
 Will you let me see it? " 
 
 " Oh, well," said the editor apologetically, 
 " it isn t worth making so much fuss about. 
 There it is." He took the proof from a pigeon 
 hole and handed it over. 
 
 Porter glanced through it. Then put it in 
 his pocket. "Who is responsible for this?" he 
 asked, as calm as usual. 
 
202 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Really now," began the editor, again rebel 
 lious. 
 
 But he was interrupted short. " Never mind 
 that. I know where it came from. Of course 
 it stops here. Just see to it, will you? " 
 
 This time the editor was genuinely indignant. 
 " Come, Mr. Porter, you can t run things quite 
 like that, you know." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I can. I ll wait here while you 
 give the order, before you forget it. And that 
 must be final, you understand. If the thing 
 should go any further, I shall do exactly what 
 I said, and you wouldn t like it. You ve quar 
 reled with Hinckley and you can t afford to 
 quarrel with me." 
 
 Reluctantly the badgered journalist held a 
 brief colloquy with his subordinates, while Por 
 ter turned away for the moment and looked out 
 of the window. 
 
 Just then a whirlwind tore into the office in 
 the shape of Burke. Taking no notice of Por 
 ter, he rushed up to the editor s desk. "See 
 here. They tell me you re going to print a libel 
 about me. If you do, I ll horsewhip you till you 
 can t stand." 
 
 " We print no libels," said the editor. 
 
 " Damn the word. You know what I mean." 
 
 " We were going to print a little story, which 
 might refer to you or somebody else." The 
 editor was really enjoying himself, for the first 
 time that afternoon. 
 
 " Were going to? " repeated Burke, wilting. 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 203 
 
 " Were going to. It s off now. There s the 
 gentleman you ll have to thank." The editor 
 rode on this dramatic situation, like a gull on 
 the crest of a wave. 
 
 Burke turned and saw Porter for the first 
 time. "By God, Porter!" he cried, rushing 
 up to him and grasping his hand. " I sha n t 
 forget this. It s no use to fight you. I ve seen 
 it all along. Hinckley may do his dirty work 
 for himself, if he likes." 
 
 Then he slipped his arm through his bene 
 factor s, and the two left the office together, not 
 even condescending to nod a good-bye to the 
 blighted editor. That dignitary stared as they 
 departed. " Well," he said to himself, " Por 
 ter s beastly lucky. There s no denying it. To 
 be sure, he might have put up this whole job, 
 the way it s worked; but I don t think. Oh, 
 won t he give it to Joe Warren! " 
 
 As the two reconciled rivals walked away, 
 Burke explained, in a torrent of words, that 
 he was about ready to have done with Hinckley 
 in any case. The chairman s conduct had been 
 queer all along and lately it had seemed pretty 
 evident that his ardour for a Burke ticket was 
 cooling off. " He s got hold of Dill worthy, I 
 believe. Dillworthy has money and that s all 
 Hinckley thinks about. I m done with him. 
 And I m all ready to take hold for you, Porter. 
 I can see you re the coming man, and what s 
 more, I believe Hinckley sees it; only he hates 
 you like poison. And look here, this business 
 
204 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 to-day has fixed me. It it well, it s one 
 of those things a man likes to forget, you know. 
 Every man s got a lot of em about him some 
 where. Hey? " 
 
 Porter agreed heartily with this sentiment and 
 perhaps a shade less heartily accepted his com 
 panion s enthusiastic offers of support, Burke 
 being the sort of person who is more useful 
 when he appreciates that you can get along 
 without him. 
 
 Later Porter said a few short, sharp words 
 to Rooney and Warren. Rooney was used to 
 that kind of thing and rather liked it, certainly 
 admired and respected his leader all the more 
 for it. But Warren had been suffering of late 
 from brain enlargement. The failure of his 
 stratagem had already left him sore. He took 
 his medicine in silence; but he did not like it. 
 " I ve got my lesson," he said to himself, " and 
 got it good. Help a man along and see what 
 you get for it. You re all right, Mat, but I 
 guess Joe Warren s all right, too. In future 
 we ll be a little more careful of number one." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 ON the fifteenth of May " Mosquitos " was 
 produced at the Bay State Theatre. The audi 
 ence, largely composed of Flitters s friends, was 
 very select, very gay, and very enthusiastic. 
 Viola and her circle, including Porter, had seats 
 together in the middle of the orchestra and led 
 the applause on all occasions appropriate and 
 inappropriate. 
 
 McCarthy conducted and the performance 
 was a success from the beginning of the over 
 ture. " How could that common little creature 
 catch Flitters s spirit so perfectly? " asked the 
 spectators one of another. But he had caught 
 it. The music was indescribably gay, light, 
 swift, charged with rollicking humour, yet not 
 overcharged. And the libretto, farcical and ex 
 travagant in design, was full of airy fancy and 
 poetical grace in the execution. 
 
 In the first act the hero, an irresponsible 
 creature of a charming disposition, more sinned 
 against than sinning, is in the full tide of his 
 tenth, or twentieth, or what-not, wooing, when 
 the ghost of his past comes upon him, in the 
 shape of one fiancee after another, deserted and 
 forgotten, now gathering together, from all 
 
 205 
 
206 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 quarters of the globe, to exact retribution. For 
 awhile, being ingenious as well as ingenuous, he 
 manages to play them off against each other, 
 finally engaging the whole company in a colos 
 sal quarrel, which gives him a chance to steal 
 away to his latest love, and so ends the act. 
 
 When the act-drop fell, there was, of course, 
 an immense, unanimous outcry for the authors, 
 whereupon Flitters appeared, easy and natural 
 as ever, towing the reluctant and unhappy 
 McCarthy in his wake. "Speech! Speech!" 
 shouted the eager throng in boxes, orchestra, 
 and balconies. Flitters looked at his companion. 
 " It s up to you," he suggested, quite audibly 
 and greatly to the increase of the general gaiety. 
 McCarthy s only response was an obvious start 
 in the direction of the wings. But Flitters had 
 him securely gripped. " Tongue-tied, you see," 
 said the tormentor, shrugging his shoulders; 
 " but I can tell you just what he would like to 
 say. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a momen 
 tous occasion. You seem to think I ve done 
 well, and I think I have myself remarkably. 
 By nature I m a dreamer. If I write the music 
 I like to write, it is serious, passionate, yearn 
 ing, way up in the clouds, in short. But really 
 my musical gift is astonishing, inexplicable. It 
 wells right out of me, like the pure, crystal 
 springs of Helicon, so clear, so calm, that it 
 reflects every light and shade and colour that 
 comes near it. This time I m yoked up with 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 207 
 
 a fool, who laughs in season and out of season. 
 And his laughter has crept into my music with 
 out my even knowing it. It dances in my vio 
 lins, and whistles in my flutes, and tinkles in 
 my triangles. Without being a laugher or a 
 fool myself I ve caught the spirit of the laugher 
 and the fool and done his work better than he 
 could do it, because music is a divine art and as 
 our cousin Shakespeare says, " the words of 
 Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo." 
 Good luck to you, ladies and gentlemen. The 
 speaker and his victim slipped out of sight to 
 a burst of applause heartier than had greeted 
 them when they entered. 
 
 Porter and Viola, sitting side by side, had 
 joined in the applause with all due energy. 
 " Somehow you must find yourself a little out 
 of place in all this? " Viola suggested. 
 
 " Do I appear so? A skeleton at the feast? " 
 " No, no, of course not. You seem to enjoy 
 yourself very well." 
 
 " So I do. I don t know that it is quite the 
 atmosphere I was brought up in probably to 
 my misfortune." 
 
 You didn t go to the theatre as a child?" 
 " No. My father was a minister. I don t 
 know that he would actually have disapproved 
 of it. But it didn t come in my way. My sis 
 ter never went till she was thirty and was 
 sorry she did then, I think, though I ve tempted 
 her occasionally since." 
 
208 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " I should like to know your sister." And, as 
 he did not immediately reply, Viola went on: 
 " You think she wouldn t like to know me? " 
 
 " I was thinking whether she would," he an 
 swered, with engaging frankness, " and deci 
 ding in the affirmative. But " 
 
 " But you doubt whether she would like to 
 know George? " 
 
 " It would take her a long time to get used to 
 George certainly." 
 
 They listened for a moment in silence to the 
 buzz and chatter all around them. " Oh," began 
 Viola again, "I ve heard all about Mr. Burke. 
 I congratulate you." 
 
 " Thanks," answered Porter, laughing. " But 
 isn t that altogether too serious a subject for the 
 occasion? " 
 
 * You and I shall never wholly escape from 
 our seriousness, I think. We may love the 
 laughers and barken after them, but we can 
 never quite step from our world into theirs. 
 At any rate, I ve been nothing but serious 
 lately. I ve read Power and Responsibility 
 and I m going to read it over again after I ve 
 read the other things you mentioned. I m a 
 convert I need hardly say that such a val 
 uable one I must be. I believe in the idea and 
 I may even come to believe in the people. Think 
 of it! Ijsn t it humiliating? But there are a 
 great many questions I want to ask and I can t 
 ask them here, can I? Come and see me some 
 evening and straighten it all out." 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 209 
 
 " What sort of questions? " he inquired. But 
 just then the orchestra prefaced the lift of the 
 curtain with a hint of that mosquito dance music 
 which was to be the crowning charm of the 
 whole, and which had peeped and peered in odd 
 places all through, always vanishing before the 
 ear could grasp it in any satisfying entirety. 
 
 The second act went quite as gaily and suc 
 cessfully as the first. It appears that the most 
 recent object of the hero s affection has another 
 lover whose jealousy prompts him to make an 
 investigation, which leads to unfortunate results. 
 After manifold vicissitudes, the hero s mon 
 strous improprieties are discovered and his latest 
 flame throws him off with withering scorn and 
 returns to her former lover s arms. This re 
 lentless person suggests snowing the hero under 
 with some three dozen breach of promise suits; 
 but the chorus, grown reminiscently tender, begs 
 him off on condition that he will agree to marry 
 his first victim, who is by this time very old, very 
 stout, and very plain. If he deceives her, they, 
 mosquito-like, will torment him to death. And 
 to show him how, they dance, and buzz, and 
 whirl about him, faster and faster and ever 
 faster, one bright, dazzling, perpetual whirl, till 
 the curtain falls upon a mass of shifting colours 
 and gauzy wings and a general riot of inex 
 tinguishable merriment. 
 
 After the performance Viola s flock returned 
 to sup with her, and Flitters and McCarthy 
 joined them as soon as it was possible to escape 
 
210 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 from the enthusiastic congratulations of innu 
 merable friends. The supper was gay and 
 merry beyond even ordinary gaiety and merri 
 ment. Flitters was evidently delighted with his 
 success, yet oddly enough, although he was full 
 of jest and pleasantry, his jests were quieter 
 and more delicate than usual. There was noth 
 ing boisterous about him, nothing noisy, nothing 
 of over-elation or vulgar triumph. Between him 
 and Flora and Laura it was a perpetual, daz 
 zling interchange of repartee, like the rush of 
 sparks in a broken circuit; as he himself said 
 of it, " brilliant in the passage, but a mere in 
 flammation of nothing." Poor Constance 
 Weber could only listen, poor, dull, beautiful 
 Constance, who, as Flitters suggested not to 
 her must have been inoculated for jokes in 
 her infancy. The less she understood, the more 
 she was fascinated, as was perhaps natural. In 
 deed, it was curious and almost pitiful to watch 
 the charm which Flitters had come to have for 
 her. She played his songs in her wooden 
 way. She repeated his jests with the point 
 lost utterly. She had eyes and ears for no one 
 else, when he was in the room. 
 
 " You d better look out," said Flora to him, 
 " there s a grand passion brewing there." 
 
 " For me? Nonsense. You might as well 
 have a passion for a bunch of crackers or a 
 firefly. Nobody would ever care for me seri 
 ously, nor I for any one. She likes to hear me 
 talk, because between ourselves it isn t 
 
3KCATTHEW SORTER 211 
 
 very flattering she doesn t understand a word 
 I say. Some day she will and then her toy 
 balloon will burst." 
 
 The other author of " Mosquitos " was also 
 basking in female favour in a quieter way. 
 Ruth s admiration was less foolishly obvious 
 than Constance s; but it was more than evi 
 dent to a keen observer like Wingate, whose 
 wits were sharpened by jealousy. And McCar 
 thy s way of taking it was a curious study. 
 Probably it was agreeable to him. Certainly 
 it was. Little things showed that clearly 
 enough. But he seemed as humble and defer 
 ential in his mode of addressing her, as if she 
 were a superior being to whom he hardly dared 
 raise his eyes. All the talking between them 
 was done by her. His response was only an 
 occasional monosyllable, and that not always 
 apt. 
 
 " I don t see how it all comes to you, Eugene. 
 How does it? " 
 
 " Why - " 
 
 "And you don t even know. Are all sorts 
 of beautiful airs running through your head all 
 the time? in church? and at the dentist s? 
 Do you wake up with a waltz in your ears and 
 go to sleep to a fairies song? " 
 
 McCarthy laughed a little. 
 
 "Do you? Do you?" 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 Why can t you teach it to the rest of us? 
 Perhaps one could catch it, if one lived with 
 
212 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 you. But there must be awkward times. For 
 instance, at a funeral, if one were to hear dance 
 music, wild dance music, nothing but dance 
 music. But one wouldn t mind those little awk 
 wardnesses. I shouldn t, if such things would 
 only come to me; but they don t. Yet I love 
 music. I don t believe you love music any more 
 than I do. It s just gift. Why, music, when 
 you play for instance, makes me throb and 
 quiver and tingle all over. I forget myself and 
 where I am and what I m doing and what other 
 people are doing. . . . 
 
 So she talked in her rhapsodic way, her voice 
 just a little husky from enthusiasm and scar 
 let fever. And he ate ices and little cakes and 
 drank champagne rather greedily and lis 
 tened and wondered. And Wingate, looking 
 on, wondered, too at the woman s sympa 
 thetic imagination which could penetrate such 
 a rough husk to the genius underneath. 
 
 Then, at the end of supper, a few speeches 
 were made. Porter praised the delicacy and 
 originality of the opera with more appreciation 
 than either Viola or Flitters would have given 
 him credit for. " Hear! Hear! " cried the lat 
 ter. " You re really making progress." Win- 
 gate ventured some comments on the personality 
 of the authors, regretting the well-known mod 
 esty of both of them, which would doubtless 
 prevent any adequate recognition on their part 
 of the importance of the occasion. " Neverthe 
 less," he said, " we can t let them go without 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 213 
 
 any response to our curiosity. I call upon Mr. 
 McCarthy for remarks." 
 
 "McCarthy! McCarthy! Speech! Speech!" 
 shouted the company. 
 
 McCarthy found himself on his legs, sup 
 ported by Flitters on one side and by Flora on 
 the other; but the speech didn t come. " Ladies 
 and gentlemen," he gasped " Ladies and gen 
 tlemen I Oh, bring me my violin." 
 
 They brought him his violin and then he 
 spoke, gave them a quick summary of the opera, 
 caught little threads of airs from the tangle 
 which was swaying in everybody s memory, 
 drew them out, flashed them clear a moment, 
 then let them melt into others of contrasted 
 sweetness. It was difficult to tell which to ad 
 mire most, the ease of the performance or the 
 perfection of it; and Ruth was not the only 
 one who throbbed and quivered under it like the 
 strings of the violin itself. 
 
 When the long applause was over, Flitters 
 rose. " I protest," he said. " I have no 
 weapons. What can an unarmed man do 
 against such a display as that? But I haven t 
 a trace of envy in my composition. I can t play 
 the fiddle like my friend here; but I really 
 believe I have more wit than he has. Yet, after 
 all, I don t know. What has my wit ever done 
 for me? I m not likely to be governor. I m 
 not likely even to own a big yellow newspaper. 
 No woman has ever fallen in love with me. No 
 woman ever will. To get those things you don t 
 
214 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 want wit. You want a great belief in yourself 
 and the habit of making people think you be 
 lieve in them. Now I think governors are a 
 hollow sham, all except my friend Sancho 
 Panza. I think proprietors of great newspa 
 pers are an unmitigated evil. And the love of 
 woman the love of woman I won t tell you 
 what I think of that I daren t. Then the 
 man who goes after such things must live in the 
 future. What is the future? A bubble, a cloud, 
 a shadow, nothing, more ghostly even than the 
 past. Give me the present, a sunny corner by 
 an old wall, with bees murmuring and ripe 
 blackberries ready to drop into my mouth. The 
 present is always like that, if you have wit 
 enough to make it so. Eugene, my friend, play 
 us the sunny corner by the wall." 
 
 Eugene played it. Then they all went home 
 very quietly. 
 
 Viola detained Wingate a few moments. 
 " Frank," she said, " you may think it a ridicu 
 lous time; but I haven t seen you much lately. 
 I want to ask you about Mr. Porter s cam 
 paign." 
 
 Wingate expressed himself enthusiastically as 
 to the man and as to his ideas. 
 
 " But the prospect of success? " Viola per 
 sisted. 
 
 " Ah, the prospect of success. Well, Hinck- 
 ley s a hard one to beat for the nomination, and 
 after that the Republicans have a solid grip on 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 215 
 
 the state. But Porter will give them a good 
 
 fight." 
 
 "Money?" she asked. 
 
 " Money? Is never too aboundant for any 
 thing in this world. But I am doing fairly well 
 with it. We don t need any to speak of yet. 
 The call will come by and by." 
 
 " I want to help, Frank. You know money 
 is almost too abundant with me. A thousand 
 dollars five thousand . It seems to me 
 worth while." 
 
 Wingate looked at her a little astonished. 
 " What does this mean, Viola? You know what 
 you ve always said about politics. You, an 
 aristocrat, you, an artist, you, a cynic, take an 
 active interest in a Democratic campaign? " 
 
 "I ve learned some things," she answered, 
 briefly, but not shortly. " I don t think I ever 
 was a cynic. I m not sure but Mr. Porter s 
 campaign is a work of art, of a large kind 
 of genius, at any rate. He has interested me 
 in it. I ve read a good deal in the last few 
 weeks. Shall you want the money, Frank? " 
 
 " Certainly we shall want the money." 
 
 * There s another thing," went on the eager 
 convert. " Those letters of Dudley s, if they 
 are Dudley s they are impertinent. They 
 ought to be answered! " 
 
 Wingate laughed. * They re part of the 
 game. Haven t you seen our editorials about 
 them? " 
 
216 JttATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Yes, IVe seen them. They re very, very 
 mild, Frank." 
 
 Frank shrugged his shoulders. " We have 
 to be mild." 
 
 " Well, never mind Dudley s letters. But 
 there ought to be some direct, strong writing 
 on Mr. Porter s side." 
 
 " I imagine he means to take the thing up 
 later himself." 
 
 "Probably he will," said Viola. "But it 
 would be better for some one else." She paused 
 a moment. " Frank, if I write a letter, will 
 you print it and keep my secret? " 
 
 Wingate s brown eyes filled with laughter. 
 "You write a letter?" 
 
 But she answered, without disturbance: " I. 
 IVe written more or less, at one time or an 
 other, for different periodicals, fairly success 
 fully. I m full of this subject now, you hardly 
 realize how full. When I take hold of a thing, 
 I take hold of it thoroughly. I don t take 
 hold of many. Of course you won t print it, 
 if you don t like it when it s done." 
 
 By this time Wingate had recovered con 
 sciousness. " Like it? " he said. " I ll risk 
 liking it. It s a magnificent idea. I know how 
 you take hold of things. Do it at once. And 
 we ll print it at once. In a way that will make 
 it tell, too." 
 
 She shook her head. " Not at once. I m not 
 ready yet may never be. But I m coming 
 to it." 
 
MATTHEW <PORTER 217 
 
 Then, as it was after two o clock, Win- 
 gate took his leave, more impressed than ever 
 with Porter s gift for winning things and peo 
 ple. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE Commonweal Club was holding its 
 monthly dinner and Porter had been invited 
 to speak. It was an organization of eminent 
 dignity and respectability and of dulness cor 
 responding. Its politics were nominally inde 
 pendent, practically very conservative, not to 
 say Republican. Grave merchants, lawyers, 
 physicians, etc., nodded their heads over a frugal 
 repast and imagined that the intellectual nour 
 ishment must be exquisite because the material 
 was not. Celebrities in esse and more particu 
 larly in posse, as being cheaper, were invited to 
 come and talk out the price of their dinner. 
 Afterwards, members of the club who had 
 nothing to say said it at considerable length 
 and were tolerated by other members in the 
 hope that their turn would arrive by and by, 
 while the celebrities industriously looked pleas 
 ant and wished with all their hearts they were 
 somewhere else. 
 
 Before the banquet Porter stood up with the 
 president and the other celebrities, and was in 
 troduced to various personages, important and 
 otherwise. Heath strolled by among the rest; 
 and the bystanders, who knew something of 
 
 218 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 219 
 
 past and present rivalries, watched the meeting 
 curiously. But there was nothing worth watch 
 ing. Both men were hardened to publicity and 
 knew how to meet it. They shook hands with 
 entire apparent friendliness. 
 
 " Glad to see you here," said Heath. " Go 
 ing to give us some light on things, I under 
 stand. We need it." 
 
 " That s a healthy view to take," answered 
 his adversary, smiling. " I wish every one was 
 as open-minded as you appear to be." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I m open-minded. There s no 
 doubt about that open-minded, open-handed, 
 open-hearted. That fits me exactly." 
 
 Then the company went out to dinner. Por 
 ter sat between the president and a congressman 
 from the far west, whose whole soul was ab 
 sorbed in irrigation. He talked irrigation and 
 nothing else; but Porter listened and ques 
 tioned with such dexterous tact that later the 
 western congressman swore he had not seen a 
 more up-to-date man in all New England, and 
 that if he was nominated for governor, the Re 
 publicans would have to hustle for it. On the 
 other side the president came to much the same 
 conclusion, though he certainly would not have 
 proclaimed it with so much vehemence. Neither 
 of them could have told just why Porter im 
 pressed them; but he did. 
 
 The speaking of the evening was supposed 
 to be concerned with general possibilities of 
 governmental reform. The first celebrity be- 
 
220 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 lieved that nothing great or permanent could 
 be accomplished unless the best men of the coun 
 try would go into politics. This idea, which 
 was perhaps not wholly original, the celebrity 
 propounded, in ornate and flowing periods, for 
 upwards of three-quarters of an hour; but as 
 he made no suggestion as to how the best men 
 could be got into politics, his oratory was con 
 sidered by some to be more fluent than satisfy 
 ing. 
 
 The next speaker was Porter s neighbour, 
 the western congressman. At the first glance 
 it might seem difficult to connect governmental 
 reform with irrigation. But, after all, irriga 
 tion suggests running water, which suggests 
 purity, which by contrast suggests government 
 in the United States. By this process, or some 
 other, the western congressman arrived at his 
 pet hobby, and discussed it for half an hour, 
 greatly to his own contentment. 
 
 Then Porter. He spoke very quietly and 
 simply, without any of the rhetoric which had 
 been employed by the other celebrities; yet 
 somehow his hearers stopped wriggling in their 
 chairs and sat up and listened. He was inter 
 ested, he said, as perhaps some of them knew, 
 in a considerable scheme of governmental re 
 form, and this, as he believed, would go far to 
 get rid of many of the evils which of late years 
 had scandalized all lovers of free government 
 and of their country. There was not sufficient 
 time and perhaps this was not the place to de- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 221 
 
 velop the full nature of his scheme, which he 
 should hope later to place before them and all 
 the voters of the state in a tangible and definite 
 form. For this evening he wished to confine 
 himself to the most fundamental and essential 
 element in his position, the importance of state 
 government. He then went on to show how in 
 the beginning the state governments were too 
 strong and the Federal too weak and how for 
 a long time the country suffered from this lack 
 of balance. Then gradually a change took 
 place. National feeling developed. Improved 
 means of communication broke up the old pro 
 vincialism. Finally the Civil War made it a 
 sort of treason to look upon the states as any 
 thing but mere local divisions wholly subordi 
 nate to the government at Washington, and in 
 every direction that government was now ta 
 king enormous strides towards complete and en 
 tire control. But, the speaker urged, this could 
 not be brought about without a radical change 
 in our system. The whole machinery of local 
 administration and civil life was constitution 
 ally managed by the states. Yet it was impossi 
 ble to get people to take any serious interest in 
 state elections or in the doings of the state 
 legislatures, which were daily settling or un 
 settling questions most vital to the welfare 
 of every citizen of the community, 
 
 " Do you realize, gentlemen," he went on, 
 speaking straight and strong, with passionate 
 earnestness, " how many, I might say most, of 
 
222 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 our practical, energetic men, have an obscure, 
 unconscious feeling that the state governments 
 are merely a fossilized survival, an encumbrance 
 to the great sweep of progress, an ingenious 
 device for doubling the expense of administra 
 tion and halving its efficiency? Gentlemen, if 
 this is really true, necessarily true, the state gov 
 ernments must go, and let them go. Let us have 
 our laws made for us in Washington, the laws 
 that marry us and bury us, the laws that regu 
 late our buying and selling, our eating and 
 drinking, the disposition of our fortunes and the 
 training of our children. Let congressmen 
 from California no offence intended to our 
 friend here decide what shall be read in our 
 schools, and congressmen from Louisiana dis 
 cuss what shall be permitted in our churches. 
 Better to have it openly thus than to have Mas 
 sachusetts elections turning on the tariff, while 
 all the thousandfold more important issues are 
 smothered in dark lobbies and committee-rooms. 
 But, for myself, gentlemen, I am for Massa 
 chusetts I won t say, first. There can never 
 again be question of that. But I am for Massa 
 chusetts. Let us send our congressmen to 
 Washington some of them very gladly to 
 do their duty there. But let us attend to our 
 own affairs at home. Here, on our green New 
 England hills, in our rocky pastures by the sea, 
 where, the Pilgrims first took refuge in the name 
 of liberty and holy living, let us look to it that 
 the descendants are worthy of their ancestors; 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 223 
 
 and when at our solemn festivals we use the con 
 secrated formula, God Save the Common 
 wealth of Massachusetts/ let us assure ourselves 
 the consciousness that we have done our part to 
 make a commonwealth worth saving. We can 
 not do a greater service to our countrymen of 
 California and Texas, to the United States, or 
 to the world." 
 
 The interest aroused by the beginning of this 
 speech continued and increased until the end. 
 The applause was long and hearty and many 
 of those present afterwards complimented Por 
 ter and expressed their sympathy with all he had 
 said. 
 
 Not the least curious auditor and spectator 
 had been William J. Wood, who had entered 
 about the middle of dinner and found a seat 
 next his nephew. While Porter was speaking 
 a good many eyes had been fixed on Wood s 
 face with eager speculation as to his impres 
 sions of his antagonist. But they saw nothing. 
 Those cold, quiet, firm, heavy features behind 
 the fat cigar remained utterly impassive. The 
 Republican chief might have been thinking of 
 his latter end, instead of what was going on 
 about him, for all his face revealed of the 
 matter. 
 
 Now that it was over, Heath and Wood rose 
 and made their way towards the celebrities. 
 
 " My uncle says he has shaken hands with 
 you before, but thinks you may have forgotten 
 it," began Heath. 
 
224 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Hardly," Porter answered. And he speci 
 fied one occasion. 
 
 The three talked generalities for a few mo 
 ments. Then Wood said abruptly, " I hear 
 you re out to smash the Republican party? " 
 
 Porter laughed, as did the others within ear 
 shot. "I m not out to smash anything," he 
 answered. "I m on a machine that s bound to 
 go. Anything that gets in the way may be 
 smashed." 
 
 " We ll try not to get in the way," replied 
 Wood, slightly ironical. " But why not smash 
 the Democrats just as well? " 
 
 " Some think they don t need it. Then, to 
 tell you the truth, I believe the Republicans are 
 bound to smash themselves. They would have 
 done so long ago. Only just as the Republican 
 head gets within an inch of the Democratic wall, 
 the wall collapses. That s Republican luck." 
 
 " Perhaps the luck may hold out awhile 
 longer," Heath suggested. 
 
 After this they shifted to safer ground again, 
 and Porter soon took his leave. 
 
 Before going home, he looked in for a few 
 moments at Viola s. Since the performance of 
 :< Mosquitos," he had passed one long evening 
 with her, and had been amazed to find how 
 thoroughly she had mastered his ideas, how 
 completely she had made them her own. One 
 or two difficult points they had discussed at 
 length with the result of putting some minor 
 details in a new light, even for him. He had 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 225 
 
 met no one hitherto, man or woman, who had 
 taken the same intelligent interest in the scheme 
 or in whom he had found the same sense of 
 assured support. 
 
 To-night, however, she was in the midst of 
 her joyous company. The whirl of laughter 
 and bright thoughts about her was merrier than 
 ever and Porter was astonished to find how 
 readily he entered into it. It seemed a so much 
 more genuine world than the stiff assembly he 
 had just left, so much more sincere, so much 
 more kindly, even more earnest in any valid or 
 enduring sense of the term. Flitters s irony was 
 a more charming thing than William J. Wood s 
 and perhaps quite as useful to mankind in 
 general. 
 
 Wingate, who had been at the club, was giv 
 ing the company some account of Porter s 
 speech when he arrived. " It was just the very 
 thing," Wingate said. " No politics patriot 
 ism Massachusetts patriotism good enough 
 for me and for a good many others. We ll 
 have it all in the Intelligencer to-morrow and 
 an editorial that will help it along." 
 
 But Flitters would have no more politics just 
 then, and dragged every one of them, even Por 
 ter and Viola, into a wild country dance of his 
 own invention, which seemed to disturb the 
 equilibrium of all animate and inanimate things. 
 
 Later Porter found a few minutes peaceful 
 talk with his hostess, who had a question or two 
 to put. When she had all the light she wanted, 
 
226 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 she congratulated him on his speech. " I know 
 from what Frank told us that it was successful," 
 she said. " Of course I knew it would be; but 
 it seems to have been more than of course." 
 " It was all very pleasant certainly." 
 " Ah, we are making progress," she con 
 tinued; and as he smiled at the " we," " I don t 
 do things by halves, you know. My whole 
 heart is in this contest now. I want to see you 
 
 win." 
 
 " I hope you will I trust so." 
 
 " I know I shall. Oh, about Mr. Burke. Is 
 he still faithful?" 
 
 " More so than ever," Porter answered. 
 " He s a good fellow a thoroughly good fel 
 low so good that I think he ll take the lieu 
 tenant-governorship. And, let me tell you, 
 that s a great deal for a man who set out to 
 be governor." 
 
 " So it is," she agreed. " And Hinckley? " 
 
 "Ah, Hinckley! He s cleverer than all the 
 rest of us put together. And he ll never come 
 round. He s got a strong hold of the machine. 
 If we re beaten, it will be Hinckley s doing." 
 
 Viola s great eyes grew dark. "Fight!" 
 she said quietly, but with an intensity that stung. 
 "Fight! How I wish I were a man! " 
 
 They were silent for a few moments, Viola 
 absorbed in thought. Porter looking now at her, 
 now at the gay company across the room. 
 
 Viola was the first to speak. " I almost wish 
 I were to be in town all summer." 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 227 
 
 " You are going away? " he asked, and his 
 tone showed anything but satisfaction. " But 
 of course you are. Soon? " 
 
 " In a week or two now to Falmouth. I 
 have a place there. I shall see the papers con 
 stantly. And there won t be so much going on 
 through the summer months, I suppose? " 
 
 "About the campaign, you mean?" wilfully 
 implying an uncertainty she had left no room 
 for. 
 
 " What else should I mean? " 
 
 " There won t be much going on on the sur 
 face, of course. There will be plenty under 
 neath, I should say." 
 
 " Ah, and underneath is just what one likes 
 to see. But I shall come back early in Sep 
 tember, at any rate, long before the convention." 
 Then, after a brief pause, she added, " Why 
 won t you run down to Falmouth sometime? 
 Miss Tucker and I keep a house full of friends 
 there all summer." 
 
 It was very kind of her certainly. It would 
 be a great pleasure only he should be so busy. 
 Yes, he thought he could come. 
 
 When he reflected afterwards, the idea of her 
 going was distinctly disagreeable. It was not 
 she, it was her atmosphere he should miss. It 
 relaxed his nerves, diverted him, brightened him 
 wonderfully to get out of politics into sunshine 
 and laughter. And then latterly she herself 
 had seemed to understand so well. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 MARGARET FERGUSON S wedding was fixed for 
 Monday, June fifth, and Porter of course re 
 ceived cards at the proper time. He would have 
 preferred to stay away; but it seemed pluckier 
 and wiser to go. 
 
 He went to Foxbridge Saturday night and 
 passed a quiet evening with his sister. She had 
 heard something of Viola, something of Por 
 ter s frequent visits to her, something of the 
 gay and worldly set with which those visits must 
 bring him into contact. Clara was not naturally 
 a meddlesome person; but Matthew s career 
 was the one great interest of her life. Was it 
 wise for him to come under influences which 
 might distract him from the serious bent of his 
 lofty purpose? If there was just a trifle of 
 jealousy mingled with her sisterly anxiety, who 
 shall blame her? 
 
 Her brother received her gentle inquiries with 
 an equal gentleness. He did not believe any 
 thing could turn him from his purpose. He 
 was sure that Miss Buckingham was very far 
 from wishing to do so. Then he explained 
 what an interest she seemed to take, how quick, 
 intelligent, and responsive she was. He wanted 
 
 228 
 
MATTHEW TORTER 229 
 
 Clara to know her, sometime they two would 
 be brought together. 
 
 Clara assented, with a little sigh. If this 
 lady was indeed what Mat thought her, there 
 must be no jealousy, should be none. Every 
 help to him was to be welcomed and encouraged. 
 Yet yet - 
 
 Sunday morning the two went to church. 
 Margaret was not there, but for Porter her 
 image was more overpowering than her real 
 presence would have been. In one sense he did 
 not care for her any longer, not for the living 
 Margaret, not for Mrs. Heath. But he was 
 a person who did not forget easily. Bits of 
 speech would come to him, turns of phrase, 
 lovely, fading gestures all so long past, so 
 far away, yet so intensely vivid that they flamed 
 against the indifferent present like lightning in 
 a black night. Thus it is to be feared that on 
 that morning the comfortable droning of Rev 
 erend Mr. Longbreath brought little spiritual 
 profit to one of his hearers, at any rate. 
 
 In the afternoon Porter took a long walk 
 with Marston and to him also imparted some 
 of his enthusiasm as to Viola and her value as 
 a proselyte for the cause. 
 
 Just after six o clock, as the brother and 
 sister were sitting dow r n to their simple supper, 
 Porter was called to the telephone. 
 
 " Mat," said a voice that almost made him 
 drop the receiver, " Mat, I want to see you. 
 Be at the landing with your canoe to-night 
 
230 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 after dark eight o clock or so. Wait till I 
 
 come." 
 
 She rang off before he had time to think of 
 answering and he walked slowly back to his 
 sister, thoughtful, puzzled, bewildered. What 
 did it mean? Why should she of all people 
 want to see him of all people at that 
 hour? It was indecent, impossible. He would 
 call her up again and tell her so. 
 
 But he didn t. When the time came, he got 
 his canoe, and paddled slowly to the appointed 
 spot. It was a warm night, clear and moonlit. 
 The evening star hung tranquil in the west. 
 The air was quivering, throbbing, aching, with 
 the passion of the full spring season. Why had 
 she called him? Why did she want him? What 
 did it mean? He was a fool to humour her. 
 If they were seen together, the whole town 
 would talk. There would be gossip that might 
 seriously injure him for good and all. For an 
 instant he wondered whether she could mean it 
 so, whether it could be a trick of Heath s to 
 discredit his rival at a critical time. But he re 
 jected the idea. Heath was capable of any 
 thing; but such a device as that might be 
 double-edged. And surely Margaret was not 
 capable of it. Nor would she be inclined to 
 risk so much herself for her future husband s 
 benefit. 
 
 He had not waited many moments before she 
 appeared, stepped into the canoe, and seated 
 herself without a word. She was all in white, 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 231 
 
 no hat, no gloves. Silently he pushed off and 
 headed up-stream. The twilight was deeper 
 now and he could see little of her but the white, 
 vague figure, half-reclining, motionless. The 
 overwhelming, star-shot quiet was broken only 
 by the peaceful sounds of summer, the hum of 
 a thousand insects, now and then the hoarse 
 rumble of a frog. 
 
 " Why don t you speak? " she asked at 
 length. 
 
 "Speak?" he repeated softly. "It is you 
 who should speak, explain." 
 
 " Explain! " was her scornful answer. " Do 
 you expect a woman to explain her whims?" 
 Then, after a moment, she continued, with 
 growing emphasis, yet still in the languidly 
 voluptuous posture to which the canoe lends 
 itself more than any other vehicle of motion. 
 " I ve nothing to explain. This afternoon the 
 fancy took me. We ve been out together so 
 many nights in June. Oh, it s not my heart. 
 Don t worry. I haven t one any longer 
 don t know that I ever had. I ve taken it out 
 and preserved it in alcohol you may see it 
 some day if you like. No, not my heart 
 just nerves. I m so sick of it all. And Dud 
 ley s the worst his nose did you ever re 
 flect upon his nose? Sometimes I see nothing 
 of him but his nose." 
 
 " A canoe coming," said Porter, with warn 
 ing interruption. 
 
 Margaret kept quiet until they were again 
 
232 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 out of earshot. Then she burst forth more bit 
 terly than ever. "Always appearances! That s 
 all you think of, isn t it? The voice of the 
 world." 
 
 He could not resist the obvious answer. 
 " Wasn t it the voice of the world and appear 
 ances that kept you from accepting me? " 
 
 " No," she cried with conscious inconsequence, 
 " it was your own folly. You persisted in 
 throwing yourself away. Was there ever any 
 thing so perfectly idiotic as this career of yours? 
 Even if you had the Democracy behind you, 
 what could you do? And you haven t. There s 
 Hinckley he s the whole thing and he s bound 
 to ruin you." 
 
 " Possibly your informant was a little preju 
 diced," suggested her companion. 
 
 "Bah!" she went on. "And then that 
 woman. She s got hold of you." 
 
 "Woman?" 
 
 " Oh, don t pretend ignorance. I m not 
 jealous. That Viola Buckingham. Why, yes, 
 you wanted an explanation of my coming to 
 night. Say I came to warn you against her. 
 Will that do? She s cold; colder than I am. 
 She would no more think seriously of a country 
 personage like you but it pleases her to have 
 you dangling after her." 
 
 " Suppose we don t discuss Miss Bucking 
 ham," said Porter, in his most tranquil tone. 
 
 " Very well. I see she s too sacred." 
 
 Margaret s talkative mood seemed to vanish 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 233 
 
 for the moment. The canoe swept along evenly, 
 quietly, now through broad open meadows with 
 the clear star canopy spread over them, now 
 under close thickets dipping in the water, heav 
 ily fragrant with the breath of unseen blossoms. 
 
 " Turn back," she said at length. " What is 
 the use of going further? " Then she spoke 
 once more, but gently, vaguely, almost with a 
 trace of tenderness in her voice. " Oh, Mat, I 
 sometimes wish it were to be done over again; 
 but it s better as it is. I m not good enough for 
 you. Would you ever have expected Margaret 
 Ferguson to say that and mean it? But I do. 
 There s absolutely nothing good in me except 
 a queer little faint sense of my own wicked un- 
 worthiness. That s the only thing that makes 
 me just a little better than the man I m going 
 to marry to-morrow. A year hence, a few 
 months hence, I shall be worse than he is 
 harder, colder, crueler. That s the way with 
 women. It s a great escape for you, Mat. I 
 congratulate you. And already I can see well 
 enough that you don t care for me any longer." 
 
 Her strange tenderness hurt him more than 
 her scorn had done and he murmured some word 
 of protest. 
 
 " Don t talk," she interrupted. " I shall get 
 angry again. I know you care for what I was 
 not for what I am. To-night has settled it. 
 To-morrow at that cheerful ceremony we shall 
 look at each other with strange eyes, like wan 
 derers from different worlds. But I shall re- 
 
234 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 member this little escapade very, very pleas 
 antly. So, I think, will you. Oh, don t imagine 
 I shall make any mystery of it. I shall tell 
 Dudley and my father. Papa will be horrified. 
 Dudley will laugh. But I think underneath 
 he ll feel it just a little, I hope he will." 
 
 She spoke no more. Nor did he. His heart 
 was full of strange, conflicting feelings; but he 
 could not utter them, did not wish to try. 
 
 So they drifted idly down the stream, with 
 the quiet stars over them, and, as it seemed, 
 great gulfs of dim futurity yawning on every 
 side. 
 
 When they reached the landing, she stepped 
 out before he could even offer to assist her, and 
 slipping into the shrubbery, was gone, leaving 
 him to make his way homeward in doubt and 
 wonder. 
 
 The next day the wedding took place, with all 
 solemnity; and as she had said, the two met like 
 wanderers from different worlds, and looked at 
 each other with strange eyes. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE second week in June Viola went to Fal- 
 mouth. Before her departure she and Porter 
 had another long talk, in which she showed 
 such exhaustive study not only of " Power and 
 Responsibility," but of everything else bearing 
 on any aspect of the subject that Porter said 
 to her, with a smile: " I shall have to begin com 
 ing to you for points. I don t see how you 
 have done it. It is you who ought to be the 
 candidate for governor." 
 
 But she answered him seriously, with a very 
 deep seriousness in her great dark eyes; " I am 
 an idle person, you know, all my time at my 
 own disposal. I have sat up nights." 
 
 " I know many people who might sit up many 
 nights and not learn what you have learned. 
 But you look pale. It is hardly worth your 
 overworking. When you get to Falmouth, let 
 the salt wind blow all the politics out of you." 
 
 But that was not Viola s way. Before she 
 had been at Falmouth a fortnight, she wrote to 
 Wingate to come down and see her. When he 
 came, she handed him a neatly written manu 
 script. " There," she said, " will you print 
 that?" 
 
 235 
 
236 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 He read it through carefully. It was a brief, 
 direct, and very effective presentation of Por 
 ter s fundamental principle as to the cardinal 
 importance of state affairs in state elections, of 
 course with reference to Porter s candidacy on 
 that platform. Viola! " he cried in astonish 
 ment. " How did you learn to do it? Where 
 did you find the ideas and the trick of wri 
 ting which is more than the ideas? We haven t 
 a man on our staff who could have done it 
 better." 
 
 " I found the ideas where anybody may find 
 them," she said. " And the trick of writing 
 You think it will do?" 
 
 " Do? Of course it will do. We ll print it on 
 the editorial page and an editorial with it that 
 will have it copied all over the state." 
 
 "I want Mr. Porter to see it first," Viola 
 said. 
 
 " Perhaps it would be as well. But there s 
 no doubt what he will say. I ve been urging 
 him to do this sort of thing himself and he would 
 have had to come to it. But this is infinitely 
 better. Only he ll probably get the credit of 
 writing it anyway. We may have to deny that. 
 Of course you ll follow it up with others. How 
 will you sign?" 
 
 " Democrat, " answered Viola promptly. 
 
 " Democrat! And from you, Viola. Here s 
 a changed world. Porter must " but Win- 
 gate did not finish his sentence. " You don t 
 want Porter to know? " he asked. 
 
3&ATTHEW SORTER 237 
 
 " No," was the decided response. " Later he 
 may, probably will not yet." 
 
 Wingate returned to town and wrote Viola 
 the next day that Porter was enthusiastic and 
 intensely curious as to the authorship, evidently 
 inclining to suspect Wingate himself. The let 
 ter was published in the manner agreed upon. 
 It took instantly, and was widely reprinted and 
 discussed. People had heard just enough about 
 Porter, in stories here and there, reports of 
 speeches, and so forth, to be ready to seize upon 
 this brief, crisp, snappy statement of his first 
 principle and to look eagerly for more. 
 
 On the Saturday on which the letter appeared 
 Porter was engaged to speak at a great labour 
 picnic. It was a much less distinguished occa 
 sion than the dinner of the Commonweal Club, 
 but on the whole more amusing. And Porter 
 found himself no less at home. He chatted with 
 the boys and the girls, took an apparently 
 enthusiastic interest in the various sports that 
 went on, and when it came to the speeches, lis 
 tened with absorbed attention to the screaming 
 tirades of two or three Hibernian orators who 
 bellowed for the rights of labour, the ignomini 
 ous subjection of capital, and incidentally, when 
 they had nothing else to bellow for, for him. 
 
 Then Smith spoke a few words of prelude, 
 to the effect that they all knew Porter was a 
 good fellow, but that he was more than that, 
 when he said a thing he meant it. He didn t 
 say one thing to one party and one to another. 
 
238 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 You knew where to find him. That was why 
 the speaker believed in him and was glad to in 
 troduce him to his friends. 
 
 The hands which Porter had so recently 
 shaken applauded him as he rose. His speech 
 was simple and direct as always, less formal, 
 perhaps, than before the Commonweal Club, but 
 no whit less serious or less dignified. And his 
 audience listened, in the main, as attentively as 
 the wealthier company had done. He insisted 
 first on the true Democratic policy of state in 
 terests and independence. However large the 
 part of the general government might be in 
 matters affecting the relation of the states to 
 each other, so long as the Constitution of the 
 United States remained in force, the most im 
 portant affairs of daily life must be under state 
 control. But if the state government was to 
 manage these affairs, it must be honest, it must 
 be effective. Then he went on to dwell upon 
 the weaknesses of the present system and to 
 show that while labour appeared to be crying 
 for this and that piece of special legislation to 
 remedy existing evils, the real cause of uneasi 
 ness was mistrust. Capital working openly and 
 honestly under laws fairly made was not the 
 enemy of the working man. He could not live 
 without capital any more than capital could live 
 without him. What was dangerous, what was 
 ruinous was the feeling that capital owned the 
 government, could put its hand in its pocket and 
 buy legislation which would enable it to rob the 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 239 
 
 poor man of all his rights and earnings. Then 
 he expounded very briefly and simply his idea 
 of a remedy. Let the governor, or his ap 
 pointed officers, appear in the legislature, as the 
 people s representative. Let all important 
 measures be introduced and guided by the exec 
 utive, with free and public debate, so that the 
 people at large could understand. " This is all 
 I ask," said the speaker in conclusion, " pub 
 licity. No buttonholing in corners, no pulling 
 and hauling in dark lobbies, no strangling in 
 committee-rooms. Free, open, public discussion, 
 with the governor in the lead of it, a man 
 chosen by the people, directly responsible to the 
 people, not caring a hairpin for any legisla 
 ture or any corporation. If we can get that, 
 the state government of Massachusetts will be 
 worth something and we shall have the other 
 states dropping around here to see how we do 
 it. Now, boys, ask questions, if you want to." 
 
 After the hearty applause had died away, 
 they did ask questions, some merely impertinent 
 and pointless, which Porter turned aside with 
 tact and humour, others acute and intelligent, 
 to which he tried to give an intelligent answer. 
 
 "What ll you do first, if you re elected?" 
 shouted one fellow. 
 
 Everybody laughed at the directness of the 
 inquiry. Porter laughed also. " I m not even 
 nominated yet," he said. " Very likely I sha n t 
 be. I m not supposed to be talking about my 
 self. But if I were, I d onlv say what I want 
 
240 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 to get, not how I mean to get it. It doesn t 
 always pay a man to show his hand, you know." 
 
 Somebody raised the old cry of one-man 
 power. " Well," answered Porter, " I believe 
 I d about as soon take my chance with one-man 
 power as with three-hundred-men power. Be 
 sides it generally comes to one-man power in 
 the end. Some of you have heard of such a 
 thing as a boss, I dare say." Laughter and 
 applause, " Just so. I thought you had. 
 Well, a boss is the worst kind of one-man 
 power, a giant in the dark, knifing and stran 
 gling wherever he pleases. They ve had a boss 
 or two in New York. And I ve heard some talk 
 of one nearer home, but I pray God there s no 
 truth in it. Now if you don t want a boss, give 
 power to your own representative, who comes 
 out from you and has got to come back to you. 
 Give him all the power he wants; but for every 
 ounce of power give him an ounce of responsi 
 bility. Make him stand right up in public and 
 tell you just what he s doing and how he s 
 doing it. If, after a fair trial, you see he s 
 working for himself and not for you, you know 
 how to punish him. But there s that legislature 
 of three hundred men, each working in the dark 
 for the Lord knows what how are you going 
 to do anything with them? " 
 
 An old legislator, who had been at the State 
 House for years and knew what went on there, 
 but did not approve of fads and notions, asked 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 241 
 
 how it would be possible for the legislature to 
 get through all its business if everything were 
 publicly debated. 
 
 "That s a little harder one," was Porter s 
 prompt reply; "but I m equal to it. It would 
 be a good thing for the state and everybody 
 in it if the legislature did about a quarter of 
 what it does now and did it better. For one 
 thing, if we had decent city government and 
 just this same principle will give it to us the 
 work of the legislature would be immensely 
 lightened. The same with strong executive de 
 partments. And of course the committee sys 
 tem would still be useful, but merely for thrash 
 ing out details." 
 
 So it went on, with question and answer, for 
 some time, and when it was all over, Porter felt 
 that he had good reason to be satisfied. Smith 
 and Rooney congratulated him; and the latter, 
 who had perhaps dallied a little with the social 
 cup, would have liked to pat his leader on the 
 back, but did not quite dare. " You re it," he 
 cried ecstatically, " you re it. There ain t no 
 doubt at all about it. You ve got the boys 
 pinched and that s a fact." 
 
 In the train returning to town Hinckley, who 
 had been a curious spectator of the afternoon s 
 proceedings, managed to seat himself at Por 
 ter s side. The chairman of the state committee 
 offered a few compliments, with his usual bland, 
 catlike manner. " You ve got some good ideas, 
 
242 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Mr. Porter," he said, " some grand ideas ; but 
 I suppose you know as well as I that they never 
 could be made to work in practice." 
 
 " Do you know it? " Porter asked, as bland, 
 at any rate, as his opponent himself. 
 
 " I shouldn t think any one could have been 
 long in practical politics without knowing it." 
 
 " I haven t been in practical politics so very 
 long." Perhaps this was a little too bland, but 
 Hinckley didn t mind those things. He paid 
 no attention and went on with his argument. 
 
 " Your plan is to reduce the power of the 
 legislature, isn t it?" 
 
 " Something of that nature." 
 
 " How will you do it? By means of the legis 
 lature, of course. You ve got to amend the 
 constitution of the state and that has got to be 
 done by two successive legislatures before it 
 comes to the popular vote. Now do you think 
 two legislatures probably Republican at that 
 
 are ever going to vote to take away their 
 own power unless you buy them? " The last 
 phrase was spoken with a characteristic smile. 
 
 Porter smiled back. " In spite of my too 
 brief experience of practical politics, that diffi 
 culty has occurred to me, Mr. Hinckley. But, 
 in the first place, while my plan would curtail 
 the power of the legislature as a body, it would 
 give such increased opportunity for distinction 
 and advancement to any legislator of courage 
 and energy, that I believe plenty of strong men 
 
 some Republicans, too would be found to 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 243 
 
 work for it, without being bought. And then 
 there are other powers besides the legisla 
 ture." 
 
 " Ah, you mean the governor? " Hinckley s 
 tone opened a great abyss of pity. 
 
 " No, I don t mean the governor. There s 
 one power greater than the legislature of Massa 
 chusetts, greater than the governor of Massa 
 chusetts: that is the people of Massachusetts. 
 Let the governor go to the people and say, 
 * Look here! You elected me to do a certain 
 thing. Here s a troop of nobodies who get in 
 the way and tell me I sha n t do it because it 
 doesn t suit them. What about this? Do you 
 think if a governor said that often enough and 
 knew how to say it, there would be anything 
 left of that legislature ? " 
 
 If Hinckley was impressed, he didn t say so, 
 but smiled his usual impenetrable smile and 
 turned the conversation. 
 
 Porter accepted the change, but while he was 
 discussing crops and the money-market, he said 
 to himself: "I know just where to find you, 
 Bob Hinckley." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE natural July stagnation in politics was 
 somewhat broken by the weekly succession of 
 Viola s letters. Devoting herself assiduously to 
 deeper and riper study of the subject, communi 
 cating with Porter occasionally, as if from mere 
 anxiety, on a doubtful point, she was able to 
 develop one phase after another of the new idea 
 with a clearness and effectiveness that astonished 
 Wingate more than ever and aroused a con 
 stantly increasing interest in the press and in 
 the public. Her personal references to Porter 
 himself were comparatively insignificant; but 
 there was an occasional allusion, as from one 
 who knew the man well; and once she insisted, 
 at some length, upon the thorough democracy 
 of his ideals, his entire willingness to recognize 
 not only the power, but the honesty and the 
 common sense of the people at large. 
 
 " * Democrat! Who is Democrat? came 
 the repeated inquiry. But Wingate alone knew 
 the secret, and Wingate was impenetrable. 
 Then began the guesses. " Porter himself," 
 insinuated the Republican papers. " Who 
 else? " But to this the Intelligencer put forth 
 a prompt, solemn, and unequivocal denial, which 
 
 244 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 245 
 
 could leave no room for further doubt. Win- 
 gate, then? " was the next suggestion. " Ad 
 mit it," wrote Viola to him. " At any rate, 
 don t deny it." " Thanks," he wrote back. " I 
 should be proud to admit it; but I can t quite 
 do that, you know." Still, the denial was a 
 little less strenuous than in Porter s case; so 
 that the more sceptical felt themselves at liberty 
 to entertain a doubt. And, on the whole, Win- 
 gate was generally felt to be a possible, if not 
 a likely, claimant. 
 
 The Republican press of course contained 
 more or less comment upon the letters, for the 
 most part in a rather contemptuous and a rather 
 ineffective tone. Some effort was made to meet 
 argument with argument; but "Democrat" 
 was quick at his weapons and was felt by im 
 partial observers to have the best of it. Once 
 or twice there were hints and insinuations about 
 Porter s personal surroundings. " A man 
 should be known by the company he keeps. A 
 radical, a democrat, who wants to lead and 
 represent the people, should not seek the society 
 of nobs and snobs who care only for their own 
 class, their own amusements, -and think the peo 
 ple were created to provide delicacies and luxu 
 ries for others consumption." 
 
 Viola read one or two things of this sort 
 all the papers were coming her way now and 
 wondered and reflected. Porter was suffering 
 for his acquaintance with her his acquaintance 
 with her. These amiable suggestions all seemed 
 
246 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 to start in Republican papers, though others 
 occasionally repeated them. His acquaintance 
 with her which had come about at the in 
 stance of A vague gleam of light began 
 to break in upon her. Heath had been so 
 anxious that Porter should be influenced, con 
 verted, by her. What if he should get the credit 
 of being influenced and converted, even if the 
 process had been in reality the other way? 
 What if this had been in Heath s mind from 
 the beginning? 
 
 As this light grew brighter, she sat down at 
 her desk and wrote: 
 
 " DEAR DUDLEY: I have noticed a word or 
 two in the papers which I don t like. Are you 
 responsible? " 
 
 The next day she got an answer: 
 
 " DEAR VIOLA: I am surprised there should 
 be anything in a paper you don t like; still 
 more, that you should suspect me of anything 
 to do with it. What if I ran down to see you 
 Thursday afternoon for an hour or two? " 
 
 Thursday was the twenty-seventh and Viola 
 had a royal party planned for that day all 
 the " family " to come down Wednesday and 
 stay till Friday. Still, she telephoned to Heath 
 to come. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 247 
 
 " I haven t been here for so long," he said, as 
 he drove up. " How you ve improved it. It s 
 a great place." 
 
 It was a great place. A huge, rambling, 
 long-gabled, broad-piazzaed house, with gar 
 dens all about and stables in the rear, stood on 
 a high bluff close to the water. Off to the south, 
 over Hog Island, you could look out to sea 
 to Florida, if your eyes were good enough. 
 And ten miles across the leaping, dancing 
 waters of the bay the spires of New Bedford 
 stood out black against the splendours of the 
 sunset when there was a sunset. 
 
 For on this afternoon everything was gray. 
 It had not yet begun to rain; but the south 
 wind was sweeping great masses of ragged 
 cloud before it, and the tide moaned heavily 
 over the gray rocks and the staring whiteness 
 of the beach. 
 
 " We ll walk out to the end of the island, if 
 you like," Viola suggested. " We shall be un 
 interrupted there." 
 
 The island was a flat strip of about ten acres 
 just below the house, left in the naked wildness 
 of juniper and berry -bushes, for more effective 
 contrast with the finished grounds above. On 
 the further side of it ran a fringe of great rocks 
 where the angry waters just now dashed with 
 unceasing turbulence. Viola made her way to 
 one of the largest of these rocks, speaking little 
 as she walked, just a word or two on casual 
 
248 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 things. She seated herself as near to the 
 water as she could and pointed Heath to a con 
 venient place beside her. 
 
 "Do you propose to drown me?" he in 
 quired, in mock alarm. " Think of my young 
 wife." 
 
 "I d forgotten your young wife for the mo 
 ment. And I sha n t try to drown you, though 
 it might not be a bad idea." The words re 
 sponded to his mockery; but her manner did 
 not. It was grave, thoughtful, rather as if she 
 were dwelling on something of more importance 
 to her than his presence. 
 
 But mocking was his line of play. " Is my 
 guilt so terrible as all that? " he asked. 
 
 Then she spoke out what she felt; but she 
 did not raise her voice more than was necessary 
 to overcome the sound of the water and there 
 was no anger in her face or manner, only a pro 
 found earnestness. " I ve seen the word or two 
 in your papers, Dudley I suppose it came 
 from you or your friends and I have had in 
 telligence enough at last to understand. You 
 played on my vanity, didn t you? Counted on 
 it and with reason. I was to convert Mr. Por 
 ter, to refine and civilize him, to educate him out 
 of radicalism and demagoguism and what not? " 
 
 " Well, haven t you? " inquired her cousin 
 with much serenity. 
 
 But she paid no attention to him, only leaned 
 a little closer that he might hear more readily. 
 The strong, warm wind tossed her hair about 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 249 
 
 her forehead, making shadows that deepened the 
 lustrous darkness of her eyes. That was the 
 bait and I was fool enough to swallow it. Little 
 you cared about my converting him." 
 
 " I cared a great deal," he interrupted again; 
 " but I admit my hopes were not strong." 
 
 " Well, yes, I suppose the conversion would 
 have suited you better. But the great thing 
 was to get him into my set and then taunt him 
 with it, to throw out all sorts of aimless, imbe 
 cile hints and accusations which would bring dis 
 credit on him and help you. Now I see it is 
 beginning." 
 
 " You take things so tragically, my cousin," 
 was the cold comment on this. " You ought to 
 be on the stage." 
 
 " Never mind where I ought to be," she said. 
 " I am warned in time. And Mr. Porter will 
 be. I shall tell him to keep away from me in 
 future and my set. There will be no more 
 ground for your slanders at all." 
 
 She paused and drew back a little, looking 
 out over the rough, gray-green water, while he 
 looked at her. " Do you know," he asked at 
 length, still with the same cynical quiet, " I 
 believe that instead of your converting Porter, 
 he has converted you. What a man!" 
 
 For a little while she made no reply. The 
 wind was blowing fresher than ever. Now and 
 then the flying spray was tossed even to their 
 feet. Well," she began abruptly, once more 
 turning to face her companion, " what if he 
 
250 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 has? I had always associated politics with men 
 like you. Can you blame me for despising 
 them? " 
 
 The straight thrust made him shrink slightly, 
 as if some bolder wave had reached his face. 
 But she did not heed his shrinking and went on. 
 " He is different enough from you, Dudley, not 
 only honest, not only well-intentioned, but full 
 of manliness, full of spirit, full of energy, full 
 of earnest hope." 
 
 Richard was himself again now, however. 
 " You crush me, you crush me," he repeated. 
 " Viola, you know me too well. I appear to 
 you to be the opposite of all these fine things. 
 But I don t appear so to the public. I ve 
 never done anything to be ashamed of even 
 from your present Philistine point of 
 view. No man can accuse me of dishonesty. 
 I ve never been fast as speed goes in the 
 world nowadays. I talk cynically to you, be 
 cause you like it. But I talk the other thing 
 to the public, because the public likes it. I m 
 a swell, to be sure because the public, my 
 public, likes that. But I m a popular man, my 
 dear, perhaps as much so as your new friend 
 for all his fancies." 
 
 She had looked steadily at him through all 
 this, with a gaze that almost disconcerted his 
 eloquent protest. " Popular! And appear? " 
 she repeated. " Do you believe that Mr. Por 
 ter thinks of popularity and appearances? " 
 
 " Heavens, Viola, what else does he think of? 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 251 
 
 What else does any of us think of? You may 
 peel off of us appearance after appearance, like 
 the coats off an onion, and when you get 
 through peeling, what is there left?" 
 
 " Very little of you, I can well imagine. 
 You can t even understand the kernel of ideal 
 ism at the bottom of a man s soul lighting and 
 inspiring all the rest. But in this case it is more 
 than a vague idealism. Mr. Porter not only 
 believes he believes in something which I 
 believe in also." 
 
 Again she looked away at the waves and he 
 looked at her in amazement. " Viola, this is 
 indeed a conversion," he cried. " And this is 
 the man whom you propose to order away from 
 you!" 
 
 "If it is for his good certainly," she an 
 swered, still looking at the waves, " and for 
 the good of the cause." 
 
 "Oh, the cause!" It would be difficult to 
 put more sneer into a word than Heath put 
 into that. "The cause! The cause, which 
 means beating your affectionate cousin." Then 
 he spoke more seriously. " This is love, Viola, 
 love, love. Don t you know it? " 
 
 She turned on him now almost angrily. 
 "Love! What do you mean? Do you know 
 how old I am? I never loved, as you mean it, 
 and never shall. Oh, this tawdry, puling amor 
 ousness which people of your stamp spread ooz- 
 ily over all the simple charm of life! I don t 
 know which would be more absurd, for me to 
 
252 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 talk of love or for Mr. Porter. Love! If that 
 was part of your ingenious plan, Dudley a 
 characteristic part there s nothing in it, noth 
 ing, and never will be. And now, as it s getting 
 a little damp out here, what if we go back 
 that is, if I ve succeeded in making my opinion 
 of you perfectly plain." 
 
 He rose in obedience to her suggestion. 
 " Plain is no word for it," he answered. " It s 
 as clear as it is crushing. I don t know how 
 I shall ever redeem myself. But you ll allow 
 me to stick to my own view as to the love part 
 of it. That will interest Mrs. Heath so much." 
 
 Viola gave all her attention to picking her 
 way over the rocks, none apparently to him. 
 So, with little more talk, they returned to the 
 house. 
 
 There Heath resisted every invitation to re 
 main longer than for a cup of tea. 
 
 " Do you good to stay the night," Flitters 
 suggested. " We re immensely gay here, 
 
 " Fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden 
 
 world 
 1 Dance and Provencal song and sunburnt mirth. 
 
 So totally different from the brazen world you 
 live in." 
 
 c Thanks," returned the eager politician, " I 
 might catch the germ it all sounds so seduc 
 tive and get snared among the lotus eaters 
 for ever." 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 253 
 
 " I hardly think so," was the kind response. 
 " You don t look it." 
 
 In the evening, when the storm had burst 
 outside and great gusts, sweeping from the 
 south and gorged with rain, shook the house to 
 its foundation, as they all sat in the huge, dimly 
 lighted central hall about the fireplace, Flitters 
 said to Viola, " I hope you realized my devoted 
 sacrifice to courtesy in urging that cheap polit 
 ical spoilsport to stay and mar our pleasure? " 
 
 Viola nodded. She knew their pleasure would 
 have been spoiled. She was sore and smarting 
 from that interview on the rocks. Certainly 
 politics and everything connected therewith had 
 a seamy side. Her belief in Porter and Por 
 ter s ideas was not for an instant shaken, nor 
 her determination to work for them to the best 
 of her ability; but all the personal element was 
 cheap and vulgar and offensive. That her life, 
 her habits, her surroundings, should be used by 
 such a creature as Heath, to ensnare poor inno 
 cents and beguile them to destruction! And she 
 had been a little of a fool in it all at the be 
 ginning especially. And love! Who was Dud 
 ley Heath that he should dare to talk to her 
 about love? Thirty years old, fixed in her 
 maiden ways, with a heart cold as Diana s, re 
 mote, entrenched from all such things, what had 
 she to do with love? And Porter, too? Just 
 recovered, if recovered, from a long-cherished 
 passion for Margaret Ferguson, by the way, 
 how could he? what sort of a man would he 
 
254 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 be, if he were already in love with herself? No, 
 the association between them was merely that 
 between friends working for the same life-ob 
 ject. It would be nothing more, should be 
 nothing more, there could be no question of 
 anything more. Only, she must warn him to 
 keep away from her. There must be no excuse 
 for any of this newspaper nonsense, that was 
 clear enough. 
 
 Meantime, to her fretted spirit, the dancing 
 merriment of the unfretted spirits about her was 
 soothing and diverting. They sang, they told 
 stories, they guessed riddles, they played games, 
 they sang again; and always they laughed, now 
 in broad bursts unanimously, now with little 
 jets, darting and sparkling in one corner or 
 another, as some idle tale was whispered in an 
 idle ear. Even Constance laughed, because 
 Flitters did, always a trifle behind the rest, and 
 always with that puzzled look on her pure Greek 
 forehead, as of one who would so like to know 
 what the laughter was all about, would so like 
 to enter into her idol s fresh and faunlike world, 
 if she only could. And eager as her laughter 
 was her listening, when he took his mandolin 
 and sang some scrap of old ballad or forgotten 
 love-lay, preluding with light, broken chords in 
 vague harmony: 
 
 " O hermit brown, hermit gray, 
 Shrive me as gently as you may, 
 Eolly leads the fair astray, 
 Brown hermit. 
 
&CATTHEW PORTER 255 
 
 I ll leave the world when gray hair thins. 
 Till then love reigns and laughter wins. 
 A pleasant world, for all its sins, 
 Some term it." 
 
 Viola, watching, perhaps with eyes a little 
 fretted, saw Constance s look of rapt devotion 
 and was troubled by it. This amorousness, this 
 vague, vexatious amorousness, always in the 
 way, useless and tormenting! Still, surely with 
 Constance there could be nothing worth serious 
 consideration. It was absolutely impossible that 
 Flitters should ever care anything for her and 
 she was too slow, too dull, too impassive, to 
 cherish any feeling that could cause her any 
 serious discomfort. It was often a question 
 with Viola how far she was responsible for the 
 doings of her young people. None of them, 
 indeed, was so very young, twenty -three or four 
 perhaps the youngest. All of them were sup 
 posed to be more or less used to taking care of 
 themselves. Still, she was the head of the 
 household, of the " family." And Flitters was 
 a singular being. As she sat quiet in her great 
 chair, a little apart from the rest, the world 
 seemed suddenly to have become more thought- 
 clouded than usual. 
 
 There was Ruth, too. Ruth was rich in her 
 own right, although she had a mother living, 
 to whose authority it is to be feared her daugh 
 ter paid very little attention. If Ruth would 
 marry Wingate, everything would be so satis 
 factory. Viola had even ventured a word to 
 
256 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 her on the subject, since she came to Falmouth, 
 suggesting that, if she had any such intention, 
 it might be well to well to in short to con 
 fine admiration of Eugene s playing to more 
 conventional limits. Ruth adored Viola, but 
 she received these hints very coldly. She had 
 no intention whatsoever of marrying Wingate, 
 she said. If Viola meant to insinuate that there 
 was anything between herself and Eugene, it 
 was an entire mistake. Eugene was all spirit. 
 There was a spiritual, musical bond between 
 them nothing more. Now, as Viola watched 
 the two, with their heads close together, Ruth 
 talking in her eager fashion, Eugene listening 
 and looking as heavy as always when separated 
 from his violin, she thought to herself that these 
 spiritual bonds were peculiar things. It oc 
 curred to her also that she had practically 
 spoken to Heath of a spiritual bond between 
 herself and Porter and the thought did not 
 increase her serenity. 
 
 There had come a moment s lull in the merri 
 ment. The storm without was fiercer than ever 
 and dashed sheets of rain against the window- 
 panes. Flitters sat with his head leaned for 
 ward in his hands, absorbed in thought or 
 sleep. 
 
 "Flitters! Flitters!" cried Laura. "Wake 
 up. This is unendurable. Don t keep us wait 
 ing while you concoct your dreary advertise 
 ments for Hanks s." 
 
MCATTHEW PORTER 257 
 
 " Hanks s! Advertisements!" answered a 
 hollow voice from the unraised head. " All 
 that is passed long, long ago. It is better 
 to drop those things before they drop you. The 
 truth is, everything is passed. Do you hear that 
 wind? It reminds me of the grave. I m get 
 ting old, old, old. The fashion of this world 
 passeth away." 
 
 "Pinch him! Stick pins into him hairpins! 
 Rouse him at any rate," urged Flora and Laura 
 cogether. And Flora added, " Laughter is a 
 fashion that never passes away. It is the only 
 wear for you, Flitters, motley. If you cast 
 it off, as you have Hanks s, there will be nothing 
 left of you but a thin spectre, as intangible and 
 unprofitable as the ghost of an old song." 
 
 Flitters sat up and gazed at her with lack 
 lustre eyes. " The ghost of an old song. I 
 believe that fits me exactly. Some day my 
 laughter will go out, like a candle in a sudden 
 wind; and there will be nothing left of me, 
 nothing but the ghost of an old song." 
 There was a melancholy pause. Then, with a 
 sigh, he began, in a different tone. " Girls, I 
 believe it s time for me to marry." 
 
 "Marry!" echoed the astonished chorus. 
 
 " I said marry. I m growing old. I feel 
 my infirmities. I need the loving watchfulness 
 of feminine conventionality to balk all my un 
 seemly propensities and prevent my slipping 
 into a hopelessly indecorous senility." 
 
258 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Oh, marry then, by all means," urged 
 Laura. 
 
 "Just so; but whom? The difficulty is to 
 decide." 
 
 " Love? " Laura suggested again. 
 
 "Love! My love is universal, as all-embra 
 cing and all-containing as the sea. Any one poor 
 insufficient object would be lost, drowned, suffo 
 cated in it. No, love must not enter into it at 
 all. Now you girls of course, I feel that any 
 one of you would enter into my plans with 
 ardour." 
 
 "Of course," shouted the chorus; but Con 
 stance being, as usual, a little behind the rest, 
 her " of course " was painfully conspicuous. 
 
 " Just so. Thank you. And, after all, how 
 could you do better? I am of a sweet disposi 
 tion, tractable, biddable, perfectly indifferent as 
 to cooking only a little irregular in my hours. 
 But, you see, there are so many of you. I had 
 thought that if you drew lots it might en 
 liven this dull evening and make it easier 
 for me." 
 
 " Lots," repeated the chorus, with infinite 
 glee ; and Constance repeated " lots " softly, 
 with her usual look of bewilderment much in 
 tensified. 
 
 " I don t understand what it s all about," said 
 Miss Tucker, laughing with the rest. 
 
 " I do," added Viola. " And, George," she 
 remonstrated, looking at Constance doubtfully, 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 259 
 
 " sometimes you run very near the edge of good 
 taste." 
 
 " I love to run near the edge of anything," 
 was the prompt reply. " But, oh, Viola, some 
 times you run very near the edge of Philistinism. 
 Can t you leave any room for the comedy of 
 life? What is good taste but the unerring in 
 stinct of an artist like me ? We create it for 
 the rest of the world. Come now, I ve prepared 
 everything. Here are the lots. They go into 
 my hat. Everybody draws something verse 
 or prose Viola, too, Miss Tucker, too if 
 she draws me and won t take me, my cake is 
 dough. The fortunate one gets a portrait of 
 your humble servant by himself in an 
 adoring attitude." 
 
 He turned suddenly to the fire and threw in 
 some chemical which burned up in a ghastly 
 blue flame and filled the room with lurid 
 shadows. Then he held the hat above his head 
 and murmured a monotonous incantation in 
 gruesome verses. Then he moved about among 
 them like a spirit in the blue glare and each 
 drew her lot in silence. 
 
 When the hat was empty, he fetched a long 
 breath and turned on the light. " It s all over," 
 he cried. " My fate is sealed. No more sup 
 pers with the ballet after midnight, no more 
 pack your grip and take the next train for 
 anywhere. Well, which is it? " 
 
 " Not I," cried Laura. " Oh, misery! Mine 
 is plain verse." And she read it. 
 
260 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " And mine plainer prose," said Flora. 
 
 So another and another. But Constance un 
 folded hers and there was the gentleman him 
 self, as he had said, in an adoring attitude. 
 
 For just the fraction of a second there was 
 a troubled pause. Constance s dark cheek and 
 forehead turned crimson and Viola looked very 
 ill at ease. But Flitters was beyond disturb 
 ance, even at such a crisis. " Comfort the poor 
 girl," he cried, " comfort her and congratulate 
 me. She is simply stunned at the sudden in 
 flux of fortune and so am I. * She needs the 
 balmy consolation of her relations/ as the im 
 mortal George W. once remarked. Who can ac 
 cept such a windfall in the orderly current of 
 life without wonder and awe? Come, I ll sing 
 you a song which perfectly expresses the state 
 of things." 
 
 But the song did not express the state of 
 things. It gently led in another direction. 
 And so Constance s cheeks were left to resume 
 their natural colour and on the surface the 
 incident was put aside. Nevertheless, a certain 
 abstraction in the lady s manner, with an occa 
 sional little start when her attention was sud 
 denly called towards Flitters, hardly escaped the 
 notice of watchful observers. 
 
 The next morning Flora remonstrated. 
 " Flitters, you ll have Constance on your hands 
 in a way you won t like, if you aren t careful. 
 You don t understand these passions." 
 
 " These passions. Nonsense! You re jealous. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 261 
 
 Don t you wish you d drawn the lot your 
 self? " 
 
 " Perhaps I do and perhaps I don t." 
 
 Viola s remonstrance was more serious. 
 " George, this is my house, you know. That 
 girl is getting foolish about you. What shall 
 I do? Will you be careful? " 
 
 " Sweet cousin, I ll be careful." 
 
 But as they all left an hour after, he had 
 little chance to be anything else. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 " WELL," said Heath, walking into Wood s 
 office the morning after the little trip to Fal- 
 mouth, " it s all over." 
 
 " All over? " inquired his uncle, only moder 
 ate curiosity expressed in his strong, red fea 
 tures. " What s all over? " 
 
 * Viola s all over head and ears in love 
 with Porter. Just as I told you." 
 
 The uncle chewed his cigar for an instant, 
 his brows contracted ever so slightly. " I 
 thought you said she wasn t a fool." 
 
 " Every woman is a fool where a man is 
 concerned." 
 
 Well," Wood continued, again after an in 
 stant s thought and chewing, " of course it 
 might have happened better. But we can use 
 it all, just the same. Is he sweet on her? " 
 
 Heath looked thoroughly cross. " How am I 
 to know? She didn t say she was sweet on him, 
 said she wasn t; but I saw all I wanted to." 
 
 " And a little more." Uncle William laughed 
 his fat, exasperating laugh. " Jealous, aren t 
 you? But you can t have all his girls, you 
 know." 
 
 "Jealous be hanged!" was the impatient 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 263 
 
 answer. " There s more to it, too. If she were 
 just in love with him, it wouldn t be so bad. 
 But she s swung clear round to his ideas. Be 
 lieves in his notions. Think of it! She s found 
 out our little game and says she ll warn him 
 to keep away from her. But he won t, if he s 
 the man I take him for." 
 
 " You shouldn t have said she wasn t a fool, 
 Dudley. You misjudged her. But it will work 
 for us all the same. Let it go on. It isn t ripe 
 yet. We ll drop a hint about it occasionally, 
 but not enough to scare him. Let him get in 
 with that crowd thicker and thicker. Then, if 
 he s nominated, we ll put it strong when the 
 time comes." 
 
 "If he s nominated!" repeated Heath, with 
 the most scornful curve of his scornful mouth. 
 " Of course he ll be nominated. Do you expect 
 to prevent it? " 
 
 Wood was a man of business and wasted no 
 energy on scorn. " I can t do much to prevent 
 it nor you. Things do seem to be going 
 rather his way just now. Who writes those 
 Democrat letters, Dudley? Do you know? " 
 
 " They say, Wingate." 
 
 " I know that s what they say. I don t be 
 lieve it. He hasn t got it in him. They re 
 good letters all damned foolishness, but they 
 take. Damned foolishness always does take, 
 when you talk it right. I set Walker to an 
 swering one or two of them; but I don t think 
 it s our cue to take too much notice of them 
 
264 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 now. Might get an answer in some Democratic 
 paper. It would do more good there, before 
 the nomination." 
 
 1 You re crazy to have a finger in the nomi 
 nation, aren t you? " Heath asked, still scorn 
 ful. " Don t you know it s the other party? " 
 
 " Just now it s the other party that counts." 
 
 " Don t you know Porter is sure of it? " 
 
 " Well," answered the more cheerful uncle, 
 " there s many a slip between the lip, especially 
 Porter s kind of lip, and the convention. You 
 may have heard of Robert N. Hinckley, I sup 
 pose." 
 
 " Hinckley! Who can tell where to find 
 him?" 
 
 " I can," Wood replied at once. Wherever 
 Porter isn t. I have it on the best authority 
 that Hinckley will put the knife into Porter 
 when and where he can. After the nomination 
 I don t say. But until then it s fight." 
 
 Heath still showed very little enthusiasm. 
 He smoked, leaning back in his chair, and 
 watched his uncle curiously. " I don t believe 
 in Hinckley," he said. 
 
 " All right," returned the other. " For ha 
 ting I do. And he s got a strong grip on the 
 machine." 
 
 " But," persisted Heath, " who s he going to 
 put up, now Burke s gone back on him and is 
 out for the lieutenant-governorship with Porter? 
 Pretty tame work I call that. They say Hinck 
 ley s taken up Dillworthy!" 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 265 
 
 " So he has. And Dillworthy has more show 
 than you might think. He s rich. He s strong 
 in Lawrence and all the manufacturing towns. 
 Two-thirds of the women in the state wear his 
 corsets and know his picture. That goes a long 
 way, I can tell you." 
 
 Heath still smoked, but he showed a grain 
 more interest. 
 
 " But it s money they need," Wood went on. 
 " Dillworthy can t buy all the delegates and the 
 rest of his crowd are poor. Wingate s been 
 pulling teeth everywhere for the other side." 
 The would-be boss of Massachusetts took his 
 cigar from his mouth, looked thoughtfully at 
 the chewed end of it, then looked with keen, 
 half -shut eyes at his nephew, then said: "Dud 
 ley, I m thinking of putting in some money on 
 the game myself." 
 
 Heath sat up now and seemed a different 
 man. "The devil!" he cried. "That s a 
 strong step." 
 
 Wood nodded. 
 
 " And Hinckley," went on the younger man, 
 "to get into such a mix-up with him! He d 
 cut your throat in a moment, you know, and be 
 glad of the chance." 
 
 I know it," was the unmoved reply. 
 
 " You must be awfully afraid of Porter. 
 That s all I can say." 
 
 " I am awfully afraid of Porter. If I had 
 a stronger man to back me up, it would be dif 
 ferent." 
 
266 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Thank you so much." 
 
 " You can beat Dill worthy easy; but if Por 
 ter gets that nomination, with all he has behind 
 him, I m afraid he ll down you, and it means 
 a lot to me. Now if I can fix things with 
 Hinckley to get Porter strangled in the con 
 vention, I believe it s my play to do it." 
 
 Well," answered Heath, settling back into 
 something of his former indifference, " I don t 
 know but it means even more to you than it 
 does to me. Have it your own way. But it s 
 a big risk." 
 
 "My God, Dudley!" returned his uncle, 
 stirred from his usual control by the other s 
 coldness. " I should think it meant as much 
 to you as it could to anybody. If I could put 
 some of Porter s fight into you, it would be 
 worth more than giving money to Hinckley." 
 
 " Fight! " echoed the nephew. " I can fight 
 straight. But this wire-pulling in the 
 dark you do it so much better, you know. 
 Do you want me to see Hinckley? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! I don t want anybody to see him 
 yet. It is a big risk, as you say. But if things 
 don t look brighter in a few weeks, I shall take 
 it. Now, is there anything else we can do? " 
 
 Heath reflected a few moments. " We can 
 keep the newspapers going, of course." 
 
 " Oh, yes. We ll do that anyway." 
 
 Then there s my father-in-law," Heath 
 added. " Porter thinks a good deal of him. 
 I m sure I don t know why. It s still just pos- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 267 
 
 sible that he might argue or buy him off. The 
 old gentleman s got rather a neat way of put 
 ting things. It would all depend on whether 
 Porter s discouraged or not." 
 
 Wood shook his head. " I don t think Por 
 ter s a man to be discouraged, or scared, or 
 bought. He don t know what s good for him 
 self or care. Still, it would be no harm for 
 old Ferguson to try." 
 
 As a consequence old Ferguson did try a 
 few days later. The substance of his line of 
 argument is easily indicated. 
 
 "Mat, there was a fellow once by the name 
 of Quixote. He had what he thought were 
 some mighty good ideas, but they landed him 
 in a mess with windmills." 
 
 " Meaning the Republican party? " sug 
 gested Porter smiling. 
 
 " Not meaning any party," answered old 
 Ferguson, returning the smile, with his usual 
 vague suavity. " Just facts, which go round 
 and round the same old way, without regard to 
 anybody s ideas. Now, Mat, the truth is, I 
 can t bear to see you make a Quixote, that is 
 a fool, of yourself. I admired your father and 
 I ve liked you from a boy. You re up against 
 solid facts in the shape of Robert N. Hinckley. 
 Don t you know he s got the whole Democratic 
 machine in his pocket? He pulls every wire 
 there is to pull. He ll pack that convention 
 with delegates who will work his way and you ll 
 never have the ghost of a show at all. Even 
 
268 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 if you should be nominated, what can you do 
 against William J. Wood and all he has behind 
 him? I m advising you like a father, Mat. Get 
 out while there s time. There s the same posi 
 tion I spoke of last winter all ready for you; 
 but it won t be waiting long. We don t like the 
 man we ve had and he s got to go. The salary s 
 ten thousand." 
 
 " Five last winter, wasn t it? " 
 
 " Good! " returned the imperturbable Fergu 
 son. " I see you ve borne it in mind. Yes, it 
 was five then, but it s ten now. There s more 
 pay and more work." 
 
 So Ferguson, at much greater length than I 
 have cared to write down. He was a somewhat 
 prolix personage. 
 
 Porter was not; and he closed the interview 
 briefly. " It s no sort of use, Mr. Ferguson. 
 I appreciate your kindness and your good in 
 tentions; but I m in this contest to stay, in spite 
 of Robert N. Hinckley, William J. Wood 
 and the devil, if you ll allow me to say so." 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 HEATH S visit had caused Viola great annoy 
 ance. There was no doubt about that. She 
 had thrown herself heart and soul, with all the 
 energy of her eager nature, into the fight for 
 Porter s political ideas, and now to be told that 
 it was all a wretched boy and girl love-affair! 
 Of course it was absurd. It had never even for 
 a moment entered her head to consider Porter 
 as a possible lover. She wanted no lovers. She 
 was free, impersonal, sexless, as a spirit. And 
 he to her was a mere political abstraction, to be 
 laboured for and sacrificed to, like many an 
 other such abstraction, with far more single- 
 hearted zeal than any idol of flesh and blood. 
 As to his feeling she had as little doubt. He 
 had come to her, as she knew, smarting from 
 Margaret s rejection, come to her, as she had 
 come to him, purely with abstract interests and 
 abstract ideas. Yes, Heath s insinuations were 
 certainly preposterous. 
 
 Yet they were none the less annoying. At 
 first she felt that she did not care to see Porter 
 in the flesh ever again. She would write her 
 letters and go on fighting for him as eagerly 
 as before; but the less personal contact there 
 
270 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 might be between them, the better. And in 
 view of Heath s wretched designs and low 
 newspaper paragraphs, there was no doubt that 
 such separation would be even more essential 
 to Porter than to her. Yet, as she remembered, 
 as she had at no time forgotten, she had invited 
 Porter to come down and visit her for a day or 
 two during the summer. Well, the visit had 
 better be given up. It was a little awkward 
 for her to be the one to make this decision, and, 
 to her surprise, she found that she did not wish 
 to give the visit up. There were so many points 
 on which she needed further light which could 
 only come or could best come from a personal 
 interview. Still, there was no question as to 
 what ought to be done. She would write to 
 Porter at once, reminding him of her invitation, 
 but referring frankly to the odious newspaper 
 paragraphs and suggesting that under the cir 
 cumstances perhaps he had better stay away. 
 Of course she and Miss Tucker would be glad to 
 see him; but public characters could not always 
 choose their associates. She was in doubt 
 whether to mention what she had discovered as 
 to Heath s mischievous design. But on the 
 whole she felt that she could not bring herself 
 to do that in a letter. Time enough for such 
 mention if ever when they should meet in 
 the autumn. 
 
 The letter was written; and as might have 
 been expected, as perhaps Viola unconsciously 
 did expect, Porter soon replied, in a playful 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 271 
 
 tone, saying that if she did not want to see him 
 she might say so, but if she did, he was not 
 going to allow his social relations to be con 
 trolled by the Republican newspapers. 
 
 What was to be done? Now that Heath s 
 sardonic countenance was fading in the back 
 ground of time, the whole thing began to seem 
 rather childish. Yes, Porter should come, come 
 with George and two or three others, so that the 
 visit might seem less marked. Then she would 
 tell him the whole story of Heath and all per 
 taining to him and they could decide on a per 
 manent course of action. That was the easiest 
 way out of the difficulty. 
 
 So, on a lovely August afternoon, Porter and 
 Viola were sailing across the bay towards New 
 Bedford, in a smart southerly breeze. Sailing 
 was Viola s passion, and few men could handle 
 a boat better than she. Her muscle was almost 
 as strong as her nerve. As for Porter, he was 
 essentially a landsman. The sea sounds and 
 lights and odours charmed him, but pulling a 
 rope at need under instructions was the limit of 
 his powers of navigation. 
 
 They were running rather near the wind, and 
 the rough, choppy water threatened to deluge 
 them with spray, so that Viola slipped a rain 
 coat over her white duck dress and offered her 
 passenger a similar protection. When he had 
 accepted it, he sat in silence, for a few moments, 
 watching her. Somehow she struck him as 
 beautiful in a way he had not thought of before, 
 
272 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 with a more feminine charm, in spite of, or 
 because of the roughness of her attire and sur 
 roundings. Her dark hair tossed and gleamed 
 in the wind and the dazzling sunshine. Her tall 
 figure swayed to and fro with a wonderful free 
 dom, following the motion of the tiller and of 
 the boat. There was something ample about 
 her, something glorious, as if her mind and body 
 both were framed in a nobler mould than those 
 of common men. 
 
 She wondered that he did not speak, and, 
 noting that he was watching her, misunderstood 
 the cause. Just then an unusually large wave 
 jarred the boat and spattered them with spray. 
 "Are you anxious?" she asked. "Mistrustful 
 of my seamanship? It is only a bit fresh and 
 the way we are heading." 
 
 "Anxious!" he repeated with a contented 
 laugh. " I hadn t given it a thought. I am in 
 your hands and perfectly satisfied to be so." 
 
 She also looked contented and for awhile they 
 swept on in sunlit silence over the blue glory, 
 enraptured, intoxicated with the splendid free 
 dom of the sea. 
 
 But Viola had so many things to ask. :c Un 
 less you want to get away from politics entirely, 
 tell me about them," she began. " The news 
 papers are so unsatisfactory." 
 
 " I don t want to get away from them," was 
 the placid answer. " This air ought to purify 
 even the discussion of politics." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 273 
 
 " You have been speaking," she said. " I 
 saw that;" 
 
 " Yes, I have spoken several times, in the 
 western part of the state. I shall speak several 
 times more; but of course speaking will have 
 more point after the nomination, if I get it." 
 
 " You must get it. And the others, Smith, 
 Burke are they working? " 
 
 " Burke is doing all it is in his power to do. 
 He ll make a good lieutenant-governor. Smith 
 is a man and a hero." 
 
 "Yet you don t seem quite satisfied?" She 
 glanced at him keenly. " Hinckley perhaps?" 
 
 " Yes, Hinckley is the rub. He has a tre 
 mendous hold on the local machines. Dill- 
 worthy furnishes the money and Hinckley 
 knows just where to put every dollar. They 
 won t be able to get a majority of the delegates 
 pledged, that I m almost sure of. But neither 
 shall we, I m afraid. It will be a hard tussle in 
 the convention." 
 
 Viola made no reply. The strong breeze was 
 hurrying them onward. Here and there about 
 them the water was dotted with white sails, 
 dipping, swaying, now in light and now in 
 shadow, with swift change, like the wings of 
 soaring seabirds. 
 
 "Have you read the * Democrat letters?" 
 Porter asked. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " They have helped me more than anything 
 
274 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 else, I think," he went on. " They are reprinted 
 everywhere, almost always with approval. They 
 are just what I should have wished to write my 
 self; only it would have been far less effective." 
 
 " The author? " she inquired, keeping her 
 eye intent on a schooner, which was bearing 
 directly athwart their course. 
 
 "Ah," he answered. "The author! I dream 
 of him nights. Who can possibly understand 
 my ideas so well? Of course they all accused 
 me at first; but Wingate denied it so decidedly 
 there was no more said. Everybody now de 
 clares that Wingate writes them himself; but 
 I cannot quite think so. Then there is Marston. 
 But he denies it and anyway I don t believe he 
 could. Besides, he is too ill." 
 
 " I write them," she said, quite simply, still 
 intent on her steering. " Of course I don t 
 want you to tell any one," 
 
 Porter gazed at her in astonishment. " You 
 write them? It s impossible." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 He paid no attention to the irony, but con 
 tinued to pour forth his amazement and delight. 
 " Such a thorough understanding of the subject 
 and such a gift of lucid exposition and expres 
 sion!" 
 
 :< We ll let the gift go, as being in your im 
 agination largely," she replied. The schooner 
 had passed ahead of them now and the course 
 was clear. " But for understanding the subject 
 you know how much I ve talked with you. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 275 
 
 And that is nothing to what I ve read and 
 what I ve thought." 
 
 He was still looking at her in wonder, only 
 half -believing, not at all comprehending. " No 
 man has ever grasped it as you have has ever 
 troubled to." 
 
 " That s just it," she said. " I have troubled 
 to." 
 
 " Most men might have troubled till dooms 
 day without ever being able to write one of 
 those letters." 
 
 For a time neither spoke. The spires and 
 chimneys of New Bedford loomed taller in 
 front of them, cut sharp against the gleaming 
 blue. The dance, the long curling roll, of the 
 crested waves about them was more enchanting 
 than any fancied round of sprites or fays. 
 
 * You wonder at my silence," Porter said at 
 last. " But I can t take it in. How does it 
 happen that you you are doing this thing? 
 What does it mean? " 
 
 She answered as quietly and simply as al 
 ways: " It means that a woman who has lived 
 in idleness all her life, receiving and storing up 
 richness, who has perhaps, as you say, a little 
 gift, has at last found something to believe in. 
 That is all." 
 
 Again silence. This time it was Viola who 
 broke it. " Unfortunately there s another side 
 to the matter." 
 
 "How another side? To what matter?" he 
 asked. 
 
276 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " To our acquaintance." she answered, look 
 ing far away to the south over the tossing sea. 
 " Sometimes I think it would have been better 
 if George had never brought you to us." 
 
 At first he hardly seemed to follow her. Then 
 his face cleared. You mean that nonsense in 
 the Republican papers that you spoke of." 
 
 "That and more than that." Then she 
 told him briefly what she had divined in regard 
 to Heath s schemes, about the latter s visit, and 
 the substance of their talk, omitting naturally 
 Heath s personal insinuations. 
 
 Porter listened, with a cloud on his brow. 
 When she had finished, reading, or thinking she 
 had read, in his face, dismay and doubt, she 
 added, " So, you see, it will be better if you 
 keep away from us in future, at any rate till 
 the campaign is over." 
 
 She had misunderstood him. " Keep away! " 
 he repeated, with more indignation than she had 
 ever seen in him before. " Keep away! I have 
 heard of low devices in politics and seen a good 
 many of them; but that goes a little beyond my 
 personal experience. That is Wood and Heath 
 all over. What a pair! Keep away! Could 
 you suppose I should allow my friendships to 
 be affected by such preposterous nonsense as 
 that? They have hurt themselves a thousand 
 times more than they have hurt me. One of 
 your letters has done me more good than all 
 their slander and trickery can do harm. But 
 the deviltry of it!" 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 277 
 
 She heard him with immense satisfaction ; but 
 she considered herself obliged still to argue the 
 point. " Your feeling is natural to you," she 
 said. "It was mine at first. But is it wise?" 
 
 He cut her off with absolute decision. " Don t 
 speak of it any more. I shall do precisely what 
 I should have done in every way, if this had 
 never come up. It is a good thing that we 
 know it and understand for our own peace of 
 mind. Otherwise it doesn t concern us. We 
 win or lose without regard to such dirty weap 
 
 ons." 
 
 He spoke her inmost heart exactly and she 
 was happy. " Very well," she answered, " I 
 hope you are right. I hope we are right; for 
 I agree with you." 
 
 Then she put the boat about and steered for 
 home. The wind was on the quarter now and 
 with loosened sheets they swept over the long, 
 rolling waves, with that motion which is the 
 freest, the richest, the most rhythmical in the 
 world. There was less talk between them than 
 before. Their passage was so swift, so quiet, 
 so voluptuous, it tended more to reverie than 
 speech. Two or three times Viola roused her 
 self to ask light on some political point. She 
 gave her companion a brief outline of the course 
 she meant to follow in her letters. He approved 
 almost entirely, except for a hint or suggestion 
 here or there. Some few words were exchanged 
 also as to the past, bits of reminiscence such as 
 help to fill out one s picture of a friend and 
 
278 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 make it perfect. Porter said something of his 
 sister s great desire to meet Viola and expressed 
 the hope that she might come to Foxbridge, for 
 a short visit, at least. To which she replied that 
 nothing would please her better. Only, did he 
 think ? Yes, most emphatically he did think. 
 But even these bits of talk were vague and 
 tranquil broken by delicious silences, when 
 the ear was charmed by the plash of spray 
 from the bow and the long rolling fall of some 
 overcrested wave. And Porter found his first 
 impression deepening of Viola s feminine loveli 
 ness, of the noble grace of her figure, as he saw 
 her against the golden, dazzling splendour of 
 the evening sky. Somehow the figure, the face, 
 the whole character, of Margaret Heath kept 
 crowding into his memory at the same time and 
 greatly to Viola s advantage. What? Could he 
 love Viola? He had never thought of it before, 
 had thought that such love as his nature had to 
 give was Margaret s and Margaret s only. But 
 now Margaret was beginning to seem pale and 
 poor and lifeless beside this new, splendid nature, 
 which to-day had revealed to him so much of 
 itself. Well, one thing was at least certain. 
 Viola might care for his politics; but she was 
 not the sort of woman who would care for his, 
 tir probably for any one s, love-making. If she 
 had been she would have been married long, 
 long before this. So, evidently, the thing to do 
 was to stick to politics and politics only. The 
 sore memory, not of Margaret herself, but of his 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 279 
 
 love, his passion, his disappointment, would 
 make it simple enough for him not to transgress 
 the limits. 
 
 These thoughts were so absorbing that the 
 end of the voyage came before he was aware. 
 " It has been too short," he said, " too short." 
 
 Something in his tone struck Viola and 
 brought up Heath s miserable hints of amoros- 
 ity. Then she was angry with herself. How 
 easy it was to let one s fancy act in these love 
 matters! How exasperating that that smooth 
 serpent should have filled the Eden of her im 
 agination with such poisonous activity. She 
 cared nothing for Porter in that way. Why 
 suppose that he cared anything for her? Six 
 months ago he was in love with Margaret Fer 
 guson. Doubtless he was in love with her mem 
 ory still. Margaret Ferguson was a poor crea 
 ture. But love s vagaries Anyway, it was 
 all unprofitable. There were the " Democrat " 
 letters and Hinckley to think of. , Surely quite 
 enough. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE Democratic state committee met on 
 Thursday, August 17th, to make the necessary 
 arrangements for the convention and the cam 
 paign. Burke, hot-headed as usual, would have 
 liked to push the committee to a test vote on the 
 merits of the different candidates; but Porter 
 opposed this absolutely and Smith supported 
 him. The committee was in the hands of the 
 machine, they urged, and the machine was 
 largely controlled by Hinckley. Victory in 
 such a contest would be doubtful and would be 
 worth comparatively little, if gained; while 
 defeat might be very demoralizing. Therefore 
 the committee performed its regular functions 
 with great tranquillity, Hinckley being quite as 
 unwilling to force the fighting as were his oppo 
 nents. Thursday, September 28th, was fixed 
 as the day for the convention; and a few gen 
 eral resolutions were passed. That was all. 
 
 A good deal of quiet canvassing was done, 
 however, and each party was astonished at the 
 strength of the other. 
 
 4 That Hinckley, he s up to every dirty trick 
 in the world," remarked Smith to his chief. 
 
 280 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 281 
 
 " I hope he won t be too many for us," the 
 chief answered. 
 
 " I don t think so, but we ve got to work," 
 was the determined reply. 
 
 " We must have more money," said Hinck- 
 ley to his candidate, Dillworthy. " Porter s 
 going to be a hard man to beat." 
 
 Thereupon Dillworthy groaned and unbut 
 toned his capacious pocket; but even so, Hinck- 
 ley doubted whether the pocket would be capa 
 cious enough. 
 
 Three or four days later, Hinckley received 
 the following note: 
 
 " MY DEAR HINCKLEY : I want to have a 
 little talk with you. You can easily understand 
 that it might be as well for us not to be seen 
 walking arm in arm down State Street. But 
 I ve noticed a nice piece of woods back of your 
 house in Salisbury. I may be running through 
 there on Cutler Street in my touring car any 
 afternoon next week at any hour. If I knew 
 when I was likely to meet you, we might take 
 a little stroll together and no one be the wiser. 
 What do you say? Sincerely yours, 
 
 " WILLIAM J. WOOD." 
 
 Hinckley thought the matter over for an hour 
 and answered as follows: 
 
 " MY DEAR WOOD: I shall be in the neigh 
 bourhood you mention Thursday about four, 
 
282 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 and shall be glad to take a quiet stroll with you. 
 Leave your auto and walk up the second cart 
 path beyond my house. You ll find me in two 
 minutes. Sincerely yours, 
 
 " ROBERT N. HINCKLEY." 
 
 So it came to pass that on the Thursday after 
 noon the Republican leader and the Democratic 
 leader were wandering through the forest, side 
 by side, in pastoral intimacy, Wood having 
 given his chauffeur directions to meet him an 
 hour or so later. 
 
 At first they talked about Hinckley s place, 
 how much he owned, when he bought it. Did 
 he farm much? Cattle? etc., etc. 
 
 In a little while they ascended a sharp decliv 
 ity and came to a big rock from which they 
 could see miles of country round about, woods 
 sparkling in the August sunlight, cornfields, the 
 river winding lazily. 
 
 What if we sat down? " Hinckley sug 
 gested. 
 
 They sat down and looked at the prospect 
 without seeing it. 
 
 " I wanted to talk politics," began Wood 
 abruptly. 
 
 " So I supposed," was the calm reply. 
 
 " It looks to me as though Porter was going 
 to win out." 
 
 " Nomination or election? " Hinckley in 
 quired, as if really in uncertainty. 
 
MCATTHEW PORTER 283 
 
 " Oh, we ll take care of him fast enough, if 
 he ever gets along to us." 
 
 " But you d be glad to have him taken care 
 of before that? " 
 
 Wood nodded. He was a whittler by nature, 
 and now he had got out his knife and was carv 
 ing a stick neatly, and chewing a big cigar 
 at the same time. Hinckley held his cigar be 
 tween his fingers and leaned back in a comfort 
 able corner of the rocks, his dark eyes half- 
 closed, impenetrable. 
 
 " You re in the fight for good, I judge? " 
 Wood went on at length. 
 
 " Well, yes, I don t mind admitting that 
 till the convention, of course." 
 
 "Of course," was the somewhat absent echo. 
 " Porter s a smart young fellow? " added the 
 Republican, still absent, or seeming so. 
 
 " Too smart." 
 
 " That s right," Wood agreed, with much 
 heartiness. " He d run the whole Democratic 
 party on the rocks, if you d let him." 
 
 We should both regret that, shouldn t we? " 
 asked Hinckley with his cordial smile. 
 
 But Wood stopped his whittling for the mo 
 ment and took up the irony seriously. " Of 
 course we should. You and I have been 
 brought up to play the game the old way and 
 it s the best way, for us and for the country. 
 If we let these young colts butt in and kick 
 over the traces, it will ruin everything in the 
 
284 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 end, party, state, country, and all. It won t do, 
 it won t do. Now, can you beat Porter? " 
 
 As he asked the square question, he went back 
 to his whittling, with greater enthusiasm than 
 ever. 
 
 But Hinckley was hardly in the habit of giv 
 ing square answers to square questions. " I 
 can try," was all he said. 
 
 The Republican leader held up his stick and 
 squinted at it, with the thoughtful nicety of a 
 boy of fourteen engaged in the same pursuit. 
 Then he carefully removed a few almost im 
 perceptible excrescences. As he did so, he asked 
 another question. " I suppose it s a good deal 
 a matter of money? " 
 
 Well, of course money does enter into it." 
 
 " Of course. And I ve heard that money 
 isn t always plenty in the Democratic treasury." 
 
 " Have you? You know we haven t the tariff 
 milch cow on our side." 
 
 " Exactly. Still, Dillworthy has money." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Dillworthy has money not 
 enough. At any rate, he won t spend enough." 
 
 Wood looked up thoughtfully at his com 
 panion, then turned to his whittling, with more 
 zeal than ever. " Would twenty thousand help 
 to beat Porter? " he asked. 
 
 Probably the chairman had been expecting 
 something of this kind; for his even voice 
 showed neither surprise nor perturbation. " It 
 would certainly help help a lot. But you 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 285 
 
 must understand, I can t agree positively to 
 deliver the goods. I ll do my best, because I m 
 fighting for myself as well as you. But even 
 so, it s a toss-up. Porter s strong." 
 
 Wood nodded, still whittling. " I know all 
 that. I ll have to take the chance." 
 
 " Besides," Hinckley continued, " it s risky 
 business, as of course you understand risky 
 for you, risky for me. Every trace will have 
 to be covered." 
 
 "I m a Republican," Wood answered, look 
 ing up, then looking down again, " and there 
 fore naturally virtuous; but I ve been in poli 
 tics thirty years and I don t think even the 
 chairman of the Democratic state committee 
 can teach me much. There ll be no checks, no 
 receipts, no red tape of any kind. I ve got the 
 stuff right here in my pocket. I give it to you 
 and there s the end of it. I believe it s your 
 interest to down Porter just as much as it is 
 mine and more. That s what I count on." 
 
 So saying, he shut his knife with a snap and 
 put it in one pocket, while from another he drew 
 a fat yellow envelope and held it out to his 
 companion. 
 
 H-inckley was still grave and calm; but he 
 hesitated for a moment, looking Wood straight 
 in the eye. Then, without further protest or 
 comment, the fat yellow envelope changed 
 hands. 
 
 Well," said Wood, standing up and shaking 
 
286 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 himself a little, " I m glad to get that off my 
 mind. If you think you need more, we ll see 
 what can be done." 
 
 " No," Hinckley answered, rising also, " I 
 guess that s enough, considering where it comes 
 from. I ll milk Dillworthy for all he s worth, 
 and there are others. If we don t win out, it 
 will be because money can t do it." 
 
 As they walked slowly back, having trans 
 acted what was really essential of their business, 
 they talked a little further on the situation. " I 
 suppose Burke goes in second? " Wood asked. 
 
 " Not with me," was the decided answer. " It 
 may be Walker, it may be Blodgett, not 
 Burke." 
 
 " How about Maloney? " inquired Wood a 
 little later. " Is he in it? Will he swing Bos 
 ton your way? " 
 
 " Says he won t meddle. He surely won t to 
 help me. There s no love lost between us." 
 
 Once more Wood spoke, after another pause. 
 " Of course you ve noticed the kind of company 
 Porter s been keeping lately? " 
 
 Hinckley gave a short, sharp look at his com 
 panion. " Yes, I ve noticed." 
 
 " Something worth your attention there per 
 haps." 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 Then they came near the open road and 
 parted with a cordial handshake. 
 
 Wood did not observe any public change in 
 Hinckley s activity as a result of this interview, 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 287 
 
 unless that one or two Democratic papers hinted 
 cautiously at Porter s new social affiliations; 
 but the Republican chief was not at all dis 
 turbed. " Hinckley s an old fox," Wood said 
 to Heath, who had been sceptical about the 
 whole transaction. " Newspaper fighting isn t 
 his line; but there isn t a man in the United 
 States who could put every dollar of that money 
 in a better place than he can, if he has a mind 
 to. And he has a mind to. I m sure of that." 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 PORTER had had a good deal to say to his 
 sister about Viola. At first Clara had taken 
 little interest and had even repeated some of 
 her original objections. " Is she a desirable in 
 fluence for you, Mat? I mean, doesn t she live 
 in an idle, luxurious, sceptical set, who will be 
 sure to distract you from the serious purpose 
 of your life? " 
 
 " No, no," was the earnest answer. You 
 don t understand her. It is true, she has an 
 artistic set about her; but they re not idle, some 
 of them are hard workers and intense believers 
 in their own ideals. And then she s quite differ 
 ent from the others. She s one of the most 
 serious women I ever met and one of the strong 
 est minds man or woman. She so often 
 makes me think of you, Clara. And she enters 
 into my ideas as no one but you has done." 
 
 Miss Porter had never shown her strength 
 more than in overcoming her instinctive dislike 
 to the object of her brother s admiration; but 
 she did overcome it. If this lady was really a 
 help to him, she must be welcomed and encour 
 aged. Even if Mat should love her, it could not 
 be worse than Margaret Ferguson and might 
 
 288 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 289 
 
 be much better. Therefore Clara expressed a 
 great desire to make Miss Buckingham s ac 
 quaintance, and when Porter proposed that she 
 should be invited to pass a few days in Fox- 
 bridge, the suggestion was received with merely 
 a mild protest. 
 
 " I should be delighted to see her. Only 
 of course, she is unmarried and rich and you 
 are rather prominent just now and in Fox- 
 bridge people do talk so." 
 
 But Porter was just smarting from Viola s 
 report of Heath s machinations and was bit 
 terly indifferent to anybody s talk. " You know 
 I care nothing for that sort of nonsense, Clara. 
 There is and can be no love-making between 
 Miss Buckingham and me. Her interest in my 
 interests is as absolutely impersonal as a man s 
 would be. I propose to treat her just as if she 
 
 were a man." 
 
 Clara made no further objection, though she 
 said to herself that Miss Buckingham was not 
 a man and that Mat s process of reasoning 
 showed most clearly that he was. 
 
 A cordial note was sent to Falmouth, in which 
 Miss Porter explained that she was very anx 
 ious to make Miss Buckingham s acquaintance, 
 but was not much in the habit of going away 
 from home herself. Could Miss Buckingham 
 be persuaded to spend a few days in a very 
 quiet country household in Foxbridge? 
 
 Viola read the note with pleasure, but she 
 saw the difficulties much more clearly than Por- 
 
290 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 ter had done. Villagers would gossip, others 
 would gossip. Those wretched insinuations of 
 Dudley s ! Yet, after all, her spirit reacted 
 quite as proudly as had her friend s. Trusting 
 in her innocence of intention and her natural 
 dignity she had lived her life hitherto as she 
 pleased. Was she now, when she was working 
 for the highest purpose she had ever known, to 
 be hampered by convention, by trivial consider 
 ations of false propriety, by petty chatter of 
 idle tongues? So she sat down and wrote Miss 
 Porter that she would come to her on Saturday, 
 September 10th, and stay until the Monday 
 afternoon. 
 
 From the moment of her arrival, she felt that 
 she had done right. To understand Porter thor 
 oughly it was necessary to see him at home. 
 The quaint, prim, quiet house, with its old 
 fashions and old furniture Miss Porter her 
 self, quaint, prim, quiet, with the smooth white 
 hair, olive face, and calm brown eyes, a lady of 
 ladies in her unchanging garb, a scholar, too, 
 a learned linguist, who had kept pace with her 
 father s deeper studies Viola loved it all, at 
 once, not with a mere collector s curiosity, but 
 with an intimate, inborn sympathy, although her 
 own habits and breeding belonged to such a dif 
 ferent world. 
 
 Saturday evening they all three chatted to 
 gether peacefully, in the long, low-studded par 
 lour. Politics came first. Miss Porter was 
 eager to learn the week s progress and her 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 291 
 
 brother told readily what there was to tell. 
 Then the conversation passed to more general 
 matters. Viola did not talk a great deal, only 
 enough to show that she was thoroughly con 
 tented and at home. Her chief interest was in 
 watching the brother and sister together and in 
 studying the marked resemblances in their char 
 acters. Miss Porter had less instinctive sympa 
 thy, less responsive tact, was more obtrusively 
 unbending in short, showed the effect of her 
 secluded, solitary life; but every line of her 
 face and every movement of her body declared 
 the same firmness of ideal purpose, the clear 
 tenacity, which in her brother was certain, in 
 the end, to force the way to success. Viola, 
 as she watched her hostess talk and watched her 
 listen, appreciated fully that the whole devotion, 
 the whole thought and zeal and sacrifice of a 
 rare and noble life had gone into the education 
 and training and development of the brother 
 who was now to bring these gifts into fruition 
 for the benefit of the world at large. Did he 
 appreciate it all? Probably he did. But 
 neither brother nor sister was prone to give the 
 deepest feelings much expression in words. 
 
 Sunday they all walked to church together in 
 the warm, quiet, September sunshine. This, too, 
 was a pleasant exercise to Viola. Her own 
 religious associations, never very regular, had 
 been Episcopalian and rather high-church; but 
 the congregational service, on that peaceful 
 summer morning, with the windows open and 
 
292 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 the buzz of the crickets outside, had something 
 reserved and dignified about it which seemed 
 to suit the people and the place. Here again 
 she found fresh clues to Porter s character. The 
 old stability, the rock-like determination of 
 primitive New England, had come to him with 
 all these inherited traditions of the early fathers. 
 
 In the afternoon he took her to walk over 
 the hills to visit some of his childhood haunts. 
 But it was impossible that they should not talk 
 politics, for a time, at any rate. 
 
 " Your letters," Porter began, almost as soon 
 as they were alone, " I cannot get used to them 
 nor get over my wonder. Each is better than 
 the last. How do you manage it? You must 
 think about them all the time." 
 
 " I do," she answered simply. Then she went 
 on to consult him about various details. " But," 
 she said, when she had the information she 
 wanted, " I thought last night somehow your 
 tone did not sound quite so confident as usual. 
 Was it because you were tired?" 
 
 " No, no, I m never tired. I was confident, 
 I am confident, too confident, perhaps. But " 
 
 He hesitated, until she forced him to go on. 
 "But?" 
 
 " But well, Hinckley is certainly very 
 strong." 
 
 You don t think he will succeed in carrying 
 the convention for Dillworthy? " 
 
 " No, I don t think so. Smith is working 
 hard, Burke is working, Joe Warren is work- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 293 
 
 ing, Rooney is working. No, I believe we shall 
 have it all as we want it. Yet Hinckley pulls 
 so many wires, he keeps so quiet with it all. 
 You can t tell where to find him, where to look 
 for him even." 
 
 " That sort of thing wears on the nerves, of 
 course," Viola answered, with quiet sympathy. 
 " But we must not get discouraged. I believe 
 with you that we shall come out right this time. 
 But what if we don t? Can t we try again? 
 And yet again? We have the idea with us 
 always. It can t die. Every bit of work you 
 do now is seed sown for the future, even if this 
 time you fail. Courage is our motto, isn t it? 
 Courage, courage, always courage ! " 
 
 Her voice was tranquil, as she repeated the 
 word, but tranquil with a firm resonance, an 
 unfaltering resolution, which was redoubled in 
 her dark eyes, as she looked at him steadily. 
 And he seemed to behold in her calm, august, 
 white figure the personification of all his ideals 
 and of all his hopes. 
 
 Yes," he murmured, " courage, courage ! 
 If mine should ever fail me, I shall know where 
 to come for it." 
 
 Then, for the time, they dropped these mat 
 ters and were silent or talked of things about 
 them. First he took her to a round hilltop 
 whence they could look off over the autumn 
 landscape, the great fields of corn bending 
 gently in the wind, the broad marshes with here 
 and there a red maple flushing too early, the 
 
294 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 lazy, long glitter of the river in the sunlight. 
 There was the pond where as a boy he learned 
 to swim, there the huge chestnuts which he pil 
 laged with the first frost. On that long hill, 
 half -hidden in the elms, he used to coast on 
 winter nights under the moon. Little trivial 
 bits of reminiscence, but they meant much to 
 him and so they meant much to her. For every 
 detail, no matter how minute, was helping her 
 to understand the man, and so, she thought, to 
 write the " Democrat " letters more effectively. 
 
 From the hill he led her down to the river- 
 bank and along it by a narrow path winding 
 in the thicket, till they came to a great rock, one 
 side of which was washed by the water. On 
 top of it the shrubs grew closely, making a 
 quiet nook where you could sit unseen and watch 
 the slow current rolling by perpetually and the 
 dance of sunshine and shadow on the surface 
 of the stream. Now and then the silence was 
 broken by the swift, dazzling plunge of a king 
 fisher or the splash and chatter of passing 
 canoes, many-coloured. 
 
 As they sat here, undisturbed, Porter told 
 his companion of his youth more intimately. 
 It was here that he used to come and think of 
 the future, dream of doing something in the 
 world vague dreams, yet, after all, even then 
 taking the shape of present reality. For his 
 dreams were always of being a leader among 
 men, not of art, not of writing books or paint 
 ing pictures. He knew that some achieved 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 295 
 
 glory in that way, but it meant little to him. 
 What he wanted was to move great masses 
 directly, to feel them respond to his voice and 
 to his touch, to do some great action in the 
 world, even if he perished in the doing of it- 
 all shadowy, of course, all a boy s romantic 
 castle-building; but such as it was it had come 
 to him here on this great rock beside the stream 
 he loved, and he remembered it as if it were 
 yesterday. 
 
 Word by word almost absently as if he 
 were thinking aloud he gave her these de 
 tails of the past, while she sat silent, now and 
 then breaking off a twig and dropping it into 
 the dark water below. Then suddenly he real 
 ized that he was saying what he had never said 
 to any one, even to his sister, even to Margaret, 
 and all at once he was aware that he loved this 
 woman, who had come by such a strange de 
 vice of fate or Heath so fully, so over- 
 poweringly into his life. He loved her. Yet 
 six months ago he had believed he could never 
 love any woman again. He loved her. Yet 
 certainly nothing in the world was more im 
 possible than that she, with her traditions, her 
 surroundings, her education, her opportunities, 
 should ever love him. No, if he loved her, he 
 must cease loving her. If he wished to keep her 
 friendly influence, her invaluable sympathy, this 
 nonsense talk of love must be crushed out and 
 put away. He must be cold, reserved, distant, 
 impersonal, friendly, as man to man. 
 
296 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 From that time on he was impersonal, as 
 man to man or thought he was. And what 
 was more important, she thought he was. For 
 the moment she had taken alarm at the inti 
 macy of his confidences, even when she found 
 them fascinating. Then, when he deftly 
 checked the intimacy of them and developed 
 the impersonality, she scolded herself, as often 
 before, for being foolishly sensitive on account 
 of Heath s suggestions, and accepted the man 
 to man attitude with joyful restoration of in 
 human serenity. 
 
 As they walked homeward, she touched upon 
 one phase of his confessions that had attracted 
 her attention. It was odd that his youthful 
 thirst for glory should have taken that special 
 form; that success as an artist, as a writer 
 should have been so indifferent to him. She 
 herself would have rather preferred the artist s 
 triumph of the two. Did it not seem perhaps 
 more unalloyed, more purely permanent? 
 
 Possibly, he admitted; but she must remem 
 ber that in those days his life was far removed 
 from any thought or knowledge of art and 
 artistic beauty as concrete things. It was dif 
 ferent with him now. And he went on to say 
 how much she had done for him in this direc 
 tion also, how much she and her friends had en 
 larged his horizon and his interests; so that if 
 ever there should come a lull in the tumult of 
 political activities, he hoped to concern himself 
 more than he had done with things that were 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 297 
 
 more real and more beautiful for being far 
 away from the hurry and bustle and pettiness 
 of common affairs. But in making this ac 
 knowledgment he kept the man to man attitude 
 still before his eyes and was so tranquilly dis 
 tant that no alloy of suspicion mingled with her 
 wide contentment. 
 
 In the evening Porter was obliged to devote 
 himself to his stenographer, so that Clara and 
 Viola were left to entertain each other. Each 
 dreaded it a little; but each was well satisfied 
 with the result. Clara confided to her new 
 friend all her long hopes and patient efforts for 
 her brother s success. It was not only the mere 
 worldly success she wanted, the brilliant climb 
 ing from one round of the political ladder to 
 another, with no thought but his own glory, his 
 own advancement. If this were all, she had 
 rather he abandoned it altogether and lived 
 quiet, earning his livelihood and little more in 
 some humble, harmless calling. She wanted 
 him to do good in the world. There was such 
 need of it in politics, with corruption running 
 riot everywhere and, as it seemed, everything 
 going from bad to worse. She could not help 
 believing that he had the gifts to do something, 
 even if only a little. 
 
 And Viola, as she heard the quiet lady s quiet 
 voice gently murmuring these hopes, almost as if 
 they were prayers, grew keenly aware of the 
 change that had been wrought in herself during 
 the last few months. A short time ago she would 
 
298 3KATTHEW SORTER 
 
 have listened civilly sceptical, wondering that any 
 grown person should take such matters so seri 
 ously. Now she could echo Miss Porter in 
 hearty enthusiasm. " Oh, yes, he will succeed. 
 In the first place he has it in him to succeed. 
 He was born to lead men, if ever a man was. 
 And then he has the principle, which would be 
 nothing without the gift of leadership, but with 
 it will be everything." 
 
 So the two exchanged hopes and built up sym 
 pathy in the dim, cool, peaceful parlour. It would 
 be idle to deny that Miss Porter, calm and self- 
 contained as she was, all the more perhaps 
 because she was calm and self-contained, felt 
 some touch of natural jealousy at this new, great 
 influence coming into her idol s life. Nor could 
 it fail to be evident that Viola, for all her nobil 
 ity and all her earnestness, belonged to a differ 
 ent world from that of Foxbridge. But Miss 
 Porter was a woman to crush her jealousy and 
 trample on her prejudices, where love and duty 
 willed it. And when, at bedtime, she reviewed 
 the evening and the past day, she thought of 
 her brother, Viola, and the future, as she im 
 agined it, with tranquil affection and even with 
 joy. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 ABOUT a week before the convention Porter 
 was astonished to see Flitters walk into the 
 office. During the last month or two that gen 
 tleman had manifested an interest in politics 
 which his best friends had been unable to under 
 stand. He had remained in town almost con 
 tinuously, had sought the company of Smith, 
 Rooney, and even some of Hinckley s followers 
 whom he knew, as he knew every one, had 
 talked little for him and apparently lis 
 tened a great deal. Now it appeared that he 
 had something to say to Porter. 
 
 " Good morning, Buckingham," began the lat 
 ter, with cheerfulness. " Anything in my line 
 to-day? " 
 
 " Make it Flitters," the other answered, 
 without a trace of gaiety in the quiet eyes. 
 " That s what I am. Porter," he went on, de 
 clining an invitation to sit down, and moving 
 slowly about, his straw hat pushed back on his 
 head, with both hands in his pockets, " Porter, 
 you think I m a fool." 
 
 Polite gesture of denegation from the other 
 side. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you do. And I am. And I ll tell 
 
 299 
 
300 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 you why. Because I spend on trifles that is 
 to say, matters that don t concern me thought 
 and wit and effort that would make me a great 
 man, if I spent them on myself. Do you sup 
 pose, just for the sake of making Flitters gov 
 ernor, I would watch and harken and ferret 
 round as I have been doing the last month for 
 you? The empire of the world wouldn t tempt 
 me. That s what I call being a real fool, a 
 Shakespearean fool, toiling and sweating like 
 a slave over soap-bubbles and taking no thought 
 for what the wise call the serious affairs of life." 
 
 " I m sure I m greatly obliged to you," Por 
 ter said, once more suggesting a chair, which 
 was again declined. 
 
 " Obliged? What s that got to do with it? 
 My point is just this. You haven t been getting 
 ahead the last month as you ought. There s 
 been lots of talk about you in the papers. The 
 whole state is interested in the fight. But we 
 can all see that the caucuses aren t sending you 
 nearly so many pledged delegates as we ex 
 pected; at any rate, as we should like. Why? 
 I ve been after that why, and I ve found it. 
 Porter," here he spoke a little more slowly, 
 but in the same light and casual manner 
 " that fellow Warren has sold you out to Hinck- 
 ley. I ve followed the thing up and there can t 
 be a doubt. All your leakage has come in his 
 department. I m sorry I couldn t have told you 
 earlier and sorry I can t give you proofs now. 
 You ll have to find those for yourself. But you 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 301 
 
 can take a fool s word for the fact. Good 
 morning." 
 
 He was outside the closed door and gone 
 before Porter had a chance to think. Warren 
 false? Warren? His old school fellow? Who 
 had followed his fortunes steadily through 
 everything? Impossible! Better evidence would 
 be needed than the word of a fool. Yet it was 
 true that Warren s work had shown very little 
 result. He and Smith had divided the state 
 between them for general canvassing of com 
 mittees, delegates, etc., leaving the city to 
 Rooney, and Smith had undoubtedly accom 
 plished far more than his partner. But War- 
 reri had been always ready with reasons. It 
 could not be. It could not be. 
 
 By and by Smith came in and Porter at once 
 told him what Flitters had said and asked what 
 it could mean. Smith was no great friend of 
 Warren; but Porter knew that the labour man 
 would not accuse anybody without grounds. 
 
 Smith took his time about answering. 
 " Well," he said at length, " I can t prove any 
 thing, so I ve kept still. I knew Warren was 
 an old follower of yours and you trusted him. 
 I did my work and let him do his; but between 
 you and me I don t think much of the way he s 
 done it. If Buckingham hasn t told you the 
 real explanation, I can t guess at any other." 
 
 This was a serious state of affairs. " I m 
 sorry you couldn t have told me before," said 
 Porter, after some thought; "but it was nat- 
 
302 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 ural. I ought to have used my own eyes. But 
 Joe! I trusted Joe. Well, we ve got to look 
 into things now hard." 
 
 During that day and the next and the next 
 they did look into things. And Monday morn 
 ing the convention was to meet on Thursday 
 
 Porter telephoned to Warren to be at the 
 office early. 
 
 They greeted each other as cordially as usual, 
 though Porter imagined he saw something not 
 quite usual in his follower s long, stolid, impene 
 trable face. 
 
 " Joe," he began at once, in a voice very quiet, 
 but very even and steady, " they tell me that 
 you ve lost your interest in the campaign and in 
 me, that you ve sold out to Hinckley and done 
 what you could to ruin me. How is it? " 
 
 Joe kept his countenance stolid still, in spite 
 of the keen eyes that were never off it. " It s 
 a damned lie," he said. " I knew that Smith 
 was bound to make trouble." 
 
 Porter s tone was exactly the same, as he con 
 tinued. " This did not come to me from Smith 
 
 came from somebody else altogether. And 
 it isn t a damned lie. I ve looked into it enough 
 now to know that, whatever the cause, you ve 
 been neglecting your work, left things to other 
 men who didn t do them, drunk, and spent 
 money, and let me and my affairs go to the 
 devil. I trusted you, Joe." 
 
 Joe s countenance apparently would not sup 
 port him any longer. He got up, thrust his 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 303 
 
 hands deep into his pockets, walked to the win 
 dow, and stood looking out with his back to his 
 chief. " You didn t trust me," he answered. 
 " You threw me over. Do you suppose any 
 man will take such a raking as I got about that 
 Burke business? Do you suppose any man 
 wants to be kept for the dirty work and nothing 
 else? Do you suppose any man will see a feller 
 like that Smith put over his head and made 
 boss? I want to get ahead, too. I m looking 
 out for number one just as you are." 
 
 Porter had rarely heard so many words from 
 that source, never so many spoken with such 
 feeling. For a few moments there was silence. 
 Warren continued to gaze from the window, his 
 back immovable. Porter sat quiet in his chair, 
 looking at vacancy. Finally he rose, walked 
 over, and laid his hand on the other s shoulder 
 gently. 
 
 " Joe," he said. Joe started at the tone, as 
 well he might. " Joe, I m sorry. I guess I ve 
 neglected my old friends. I understand it all 
 now. That s what bothered me. I couldn t un 
 derstand. You remembered the days when we 
 were boys together. You could swim better, 
 and climb better, and play ball better. And 
 for so many years we went on side by side. 
 And then it began to seem to you that I was 
 doing all the climbing. And you thought I 
 had forgotten about those old times. Heaven 
 knows I hadn t; but you thought so, and 
 thought I was ready to drop you for anybody 
 
304 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 else who would help me. And you felt sore. 
 And things looked pretty cold. And you 
 thought if I had so many others to help, I 
 didn t need you. And one particularly bad day 
 the devil came along. I guess I ve sized it up 
 pretty well, Joe, haven t I ? " 
 
 Warren s right hand came out of his pocket 
 now and found his friend s. " I haven t had a 
 quiet minute since," was all he said. 
 
 " Well," answered Porter, with infinite sweet 
 cheerfulness, " we won t have another word 
 about it. It s all over." 
 
 " All over? And you sold out for good? But 
 I ll do what I can, Mat, still. I ll work. God, 
 how I ll work! I ll send Hinckley back the 
 money." 
 
 " No," said the chief thoughtfully. " I don t 
 think that will be the best way. You shall work. 
 But not just now. I ve got some ideas in my 
 head. But I think, Joe, the best thing for you 
 will be to clear out for a week right off 
 to-night Nova Scotia, say. We ll pass the 
 word that you re sick and let your people report 
 direct to me. When you come back, I ll give 
 you work enough, if there s work for anybody." 
 
 " I ll do just what you want," was the hum 
 ble answer. " I d rather stay, though." 
 
 " I don t think it would be best. But, Joe, 
 before you leave, you might give me any hints 
 that may be useful. Of course the caucuses are 
 over and our work will have to be done mainly 
 on the unpledged delegates. You must know 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 305 
 
 where they stand, most of them, in your dis 
 tricts. How was it anyway? Did you agree 
 to hand over so many votes? " 
 
 " Never. I wouldn t do that." 
 
 " Or couldn t? " The kindly smile that ac 
 companied this showed and was meant to 
 show that the speaker was not taken in, in 
 spite of his generosity. " But I understand. 
 You just agreed to let things slide. Well, now 
 if you ve got any pointers to give us " 
 
 Warren sat down at the desk, looked over 
 his note - books, and made out a number of 
 memoranda, giving explanations with them. 
 "There," he said, when he had finished, "I 
 guess that ll help you some. But, oh, Mr. Por 
 ter," he added, with an extraordinary intensity 
 of pleading in his hoarse voice, " won t you let 
 me stay? There s lots I can attend to that no 
 body else can." 
 
 Porter s answer was gentle, but absolutely 
 unyielding. " It won t do, Joe, this time. We 
 shall have to get along without you. There ll 
 be enough work later I hope. And I ll give 
 you all you want. Good-bye." 
 
 Warren shook the hand that was held out to 
 him wrung it, and left without another word. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 DURING the few days that remained Porter 
 and his lieutenants did what they could to make 
 up for Warren s treachery. Doubtful delegates 
 were interviewed, reasoned with, influenced by 
 every legitimate method, perhaps by some that 
 were shady, though, if this was the case, Porter 
 knew nothing of it. " Democrat " published an 
 extra letter on Tuesday, giving a general sum 
 mary of Porter s standpoint, hinting vaguely at 
 unscrupulous means of opposition, and urging 
 every delegate to do his duty by the state and 
 the party as a whole, without regard to the 
 scKemes of politicians. 
 
 Hinckley cared nothing for " Democrat " let 
 ters, however, had no scruples, and did have 
 money. And he used it very quietly and ef 
 fectively. So that when Porter, Smith, Burke, 
 and Rooney came to review the situation 
 Wednesday evening, although they were hope 
 ful, they were far from confident. 
 
 " The papers have been sizing it up for a 
 week," said Smith. " And I guess they ve sized 
 it up as well as we can. We ve got a good third 
 of the delegates instructed. Of those that are 
 floating there ll be a good many for us a hun 
 dred anyway, that I m sure of." 
 
 306 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 307 
 
 "More," insisted Rooney. "There s more. 
 There s over a hundred." 
 
 " Well, there ain t enough sure. You ad 
 mit that, don t you? " was Smith s dry com 
 ment. 
 
 " No," agreed Rooney, shaking his head. 
 " There ain t enough sure." 
 
 "But," put in Burke, " Hinckley s a good 
 deal less sure of it than we are." 
 
 "That s so," said Rooney. "He ain t sure 
 of it at all. There s a good deal less than a 
 third pledged to Dillworthy." 
 
 But Smith again interposed his Jonah warn 
 ing. " It ain t what s pledged. Hinckley s 
 worked night and day and spent money like 
 water. I don t know just what he s got up his 
 sleeve nor you don t." 
 
 Some little controversy followed as to this 
 delegate and that. Lists were produced and 
 gone over eagerly and Warren s name was 
 once or twice mentioned in uncomplimentary 
 fashion. 
 
 Meantime Porter sat quietly, watching his 
 counsellors, but taking little part in the discus 
 sion. At length, when they had made their 
 count and readjusted it and readjusted it again, 
 he spoke. " Boys, I ve got an idea that I 
 haven t mentioned yet. I don t know how you ll 
 like it." 
 
 They looked at him in wondering expectation. 
 " Bully for the guvnor s idea," said Rooney. 
 
308 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " I m going to talk to that convention," Por 
 ter went on. 
 
 At first none of them caught his point. 
 Talk to the convention?" repeated Burke. 
 " It s never been done that I know of." 
 
 But when Smith had grasped the idea, he 
 seemed to like it. " Because it never has been 
 done is no reason why it shouldn t be. There s 
 never been a candidate before that had anything 
 to say. Go ahead. I m with you. Of course, 
 you mean after your name has been proposed? " 
 
 Yes," said Porter. And he explained just 
 what his plan was and gave them the outline 
 of his speech. 
 
 You re the man to do it," cried Rooney, 
 with rubicund ecstasy. " I bet it knocks Hinck- 
 ley silly." 
 
 Even Burke agreed, when he had thought it 
 over. " It s bold," he remarked, " and you can t 
 be sure how it ll work. But it s our line to be 
 bold. Hinckley s been running things the old, 
 old way, and if we want to beat him, we must 
 work something different. We don t need many 
 votes and it wouldn t surprise me a bit if your 
 talk got what we need." 
 
 Thursday morning came and the convention 
 met. Smith and Hinckley, with a few followers 
 on each side, had had a long conference the day 
 before to arrange preliminaries as to temporary 
 chairmanship, appointment of committees, plat 
 form, etc. Each side expected trouble, but each 
 side was anxious to avoid it and made conces- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 309 
 
 sions. An impartial chairman was agreed upon 
 and Smith expressed himself willing to accept 
 a general platform urging reciprocity, strict 
 control of corporations, and all the old stand- 
 bys. This was Porter s policy and Smith had 
 demurred in the beginning. " How can you 
 make your fight on those chestnuts? " " I 
 sha n t," Porter answered. " I carry my plat 
 form in my pocket and shall pull it out when 
 I need it. But the chestnuts won t do any harm. 
 We d better not have any row, till we come to 
 the actual nomination." 
 
 Only one point Smith, by his chief s direc 
 tions, did insist on, a resolution in favour of 
 abolishing the governor s council. Hinckley at 
 first objected, but w r hen he found that the plank 
 was based on quotations from that Democratic 
 idol, William E. Russell, he gave in. " It won t 
 hurt anyway," he said to one of his protesting 
 supporters. " It s all academic, if you only 
 knew what that means," 
 
 As a result of this very harmonious confer 
 ence the convention opened as smoothly as pos 
 sible. Hinckley called the assembly to order, 
 the temporary chairman was elected by accla 
 mation, the committees on credentials, on reso 
 lutions, etc., were duly appointed, and the re 
 cess necessary before permanent organization 
 was taken. During this interval a last attempt 
 to convert doubtful delegates was made by both 
 sides; but it cannot be said that the result was 
 perfectly satisfactory to either. Unquestion- 
 
310 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 ably Porter s personal popularity was far 
 greater than his adversary s; but there were 
 other considerations besides personal popularity. 
 
 When the delegates reassembled, the tem 
 porary chairman was made permanent and the 
 real business of the day began. No trouble oc 
 curred over the platform. All sides were ready 
 to shout for safe platitudes, as usual. The aboli 
 tion of the council meant nothing whatsoever to 
 nine-tenths of those present; but the name of 
 William E. Russell was received with ultra- 
 Democratic vociferocity. 
 
 Then the nominations. Wingate, though he 
 rarely meddled in active politics, had got him 
 self made a delegate with the express object of 
 presenting Porter s name to the convention. As 
 the reputed author of the " Democrat " letters 
 he was received with enthusiasm by at least part 
 of the delegates, and his vigorous, straightfor 
 ward, energetic speech was listened to with in 
 terest, while Porter s name was received as 
 warmly as his most ardent admirer could have 
 wished. 
 
 One of Hinckley s followers then nominated 
 Dillworthy, making a skilful plea for old Demo 
 cratic habits and traditions and urging the dan 
 ger of sacrificing party principles to visionary 
 notions and fads which could not be carried out 
 in practice. Porter was not named nor even 
 personally hinted at; but the speech was well 
 planned and it told. 
 
 " Now is your chance," said Burke to Porter, 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 311 
 
 as they waited in a convenient private ante 
 room, where they could see and hear, without 
 being heard or seen. " Now s your chance. Go 
 in and win." 
 
 But at this critical point Hinckley sprang a 
 little surprise.. After the presentation of Dill- 
 worthy s name, the chairman made the appro 
 priate formal pause to give opportunity for 
 other nominations, although neither he nor the 
 greater number of those present dreamed that 
 any would be forthcoming. There was one, 
 however. A well-known and much respected 
 Methodist minister rose to present the name of 
 Honourable Henry F. Stebbins. 
 
 "The devil!" cried Burke. "What does 
 this mean? " 
 
 " Just one of Hinckley s moves, and a sharp 
 one," was Porter s calm answer. " He s done 
 it to draw from us on the first ballot, thinking 
 that after that he can make sure of some of our 
 pledged delegates for Dillworthy. I suspected 
 that he was holding something back; but so 
 am I." 
 
 Stebbins was a well-known Bostonian, who 
 had been several times member of congress, was 
 wealthy and popular, and had been often men 
 tioned for governor, but was understood to have 
 declined positively. This, the Methodist clergy 
 man explained, was a mistake; or, at any rate, 
 Mr. Stebbins had changed his mind, yielding 
 to the arguments of his friends who pointed out 
 that in the present somewhat strained condition 
 
312 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 of affairs the appearance of an acceptable third 
 candidate might settle all difficulties. The ap 
 plause which greeted Stebbins s name showed 
 that Hinckley s device was ingenious. 
 
 Once more the chairman made his official 
 pause preliminary to ordering the ballot; and 
 as he waited, there appeared upon the platform 
 the quiet figure of Porter, asking permission to 
 address the assembly. It was a second or two 
 before even the Porterites who were not in the 
 secret recognized their chieftain and greeted him 
 with a tumult of enthusiasm. It was several 
 seconds before the amazed Hinckley could pass 
 the word to drown out this unjustifiable intruder, 
 and then it was too late. The chairman had 
 accorded his recognition, the audience had es 
 tablished a friendly relation with the speaker, 
 and Porter, standing with his hand uplifted for 
 silence, had acquired that magnetic control 
 against which it is so difficult for even a well- 
 organized opposition to contend. 
 
 I cannot give his manner, his simple, intense 
 earnestness, so different from the empty rhetoric 
 which had been heard before; therefore I do 
 not attempt to give the whole of his speech. 
 The platform, he said, was well enough, harm 
 less generalities; but he thought this was a state 
 convention; and he saw nothing in the plat 
 form, except the council plank, which had any 
 thing to do with the state. It all sounded like 
 the work of men who were looking to Wash 
 ington for their ideas and for their future. For 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 313 
 
 himself, he was looking to Massachusetts. The 
 government in Massachusetts at present was 
 better than that of many states, but they all 
 knew that a man might spend a long day count 
 ing up the things that might be done to im 
 prove it. He believed that those things might 
 be done by the governor, should at any rate be 
 urged onward by the governor. The governor 
 was the only man who could represent Massa 
 chusetts as a whole, while every legislator repre 
 sented only the district he came from. The 
 governor should come from the people and 
 speak for the people. For everything he did 
 he should be directly responsible to the people. 
 Then, leaving these abstract considerations, 
 the speaker took a more personal tone and the 
 ringing clearness of his voice filled every corner 
 of the hall and touched the heart of every man 
 in it. " And now," he said, " I see that you are 
 thinking, * Even if these things are true, it 
 would be better for some one else to say them. 
 Is it quite fitting, quite decent for him to come 
 before us thus boldly and ask for the highest 
 gift in the power of his fellow citizens to give? 
 In other words you have the old idea which we 
 have heard so often, * the office should seek the 
 man, not the man the office. That is, the most 
 august dignity of the commonwealth should go 
 flitting about seeking on whom it may alight, 
 like a fly on a summer afternoon, buzzing care 
 lessly into some wide-open mouth or wide- 
 open pocket. My friends, that old idea is based 
 
314 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 on a delusion, a delusion which, if it is not dis 
 pelled, and quickly, will be fatal to our coun 
 try and to the great experiment of democratic 
 government, the delusion that office means not 
 something to do, but something to get. Office 
 is not a reward, it is a duty. Duty done brings 
 its reward with it, as always, in this case the 
 most glorious reward the world can give. But 
 no man who is worthy of the duty thinks first 
 of the reward. And that is why I dare to pre 
 sent myself before you asking the privilege of 
 undertaking the most solemn duty that I know 
 of anywhere. Others, many, may be more 
 worthy of it. But they have not undertaken it. 
 I will undertake it. I believe that those blots, 
 those stains which rest upon the government of 
 Massachusetts, as they rest, in less or greater 
 measure, upon the government of all our states, 
 not by the fault of any man or any party, but 
 of the system, may be removed by changing 
 the system, and I am ready to give my strength, 
 my brain, my will, every power of body and 
 soul, to bringing about that change, so that 
 Massachusetts may be the best governed, the 
 freest, the happiest, the most democratic com 
 munity in the world. Gentlemen, it is on the 
 strength of this resolve that I ask you to make 
 me your candidate for the governorship." 
 
 During all this speech there was not one out 
 burst of applause. There were none of those 
 cheap points that manifestly call for it. But 
 there was that unbroken, solemn hush which 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 315 
 
 makes you feel that a great orator is holding 
 every ear intent upon his words. The hush 
 lasted even for a second or two after the speech 
 was over. Then the restrained feeling of the 
 great assembly burst out in a roar which has 
 rarely been equalled at a political gathering in 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 It was long before the chairman could restore 
 order sufficiently to proceed with the balloting. 
 But when at last the vote was taken, Porter was 
 found to have captured nearly all the delegates 
 whose instructions did not oblige them to vote 
 against him. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 VIOLA had kept away from the convention; 
 but Flitters had telephoned progress to her con 
 stantly and she had news of the nomination as 
 soon as the chairman had announced it. So far 
 it was settled then, the first great step was 
 taken, the first great battle won. She sat down 
 at her desk immediately and wrote the " Demo 
 crat " letter for Saturday, a Miriam s song of 
 abounding exultation and triumph. Failure 
 would not have meant defeat, she said, nor dis 
 couragement, nor one moment s abandonment 
 of the unfaltering struggle ; but success and 
 success achieved in such a notable way, snatched 
 overwhelmingly from the very grasp of tri 
 umphant opposition was a most inspiring 
 augury for the final victory, not of any man, 
 or of any party, but of a great, fertile, fruitful, 
 renovating, democratic idea. Hitherto the idea 
 had been, after all, only speculative, only aca 
 demic. Now it had been given a real, political 
 existence, a normal, corporate shape, which 
 would serve as a rallying point for its friends 
 and a terror to its foes. Surely, not only all 
 Democrats, but all independent lovers of clean, 
 honest, strong government would see the way 
 clear before them from now until November. 
 
 316 
 
JttATTHEW SORTER 317 
 
 It had been arranged that, if everything went 
 well, Viola should receive the candidate and all 
 his friends and all hers on the evening after the 
 convention. Burke arrived first. During the 
 past few weeks Viola had taken quite a fancy 
 to the hearty Irishman, and had even gone so 
 far as to call on his wife, a step which Flitters 
 registered as the most astounding of all the ex 
 pressions of growing democracy. 
 
 " The lieutenant-governor, I believe? " began 
 the hostess, as she shook hands warmly. 
 
 " That s as may be; but it s of no consequence 
 whatever. Oh, Miss Buckingham, you ought to 
 have heard him. He took the whole crowd right 
 in the hollow of his hand and put them in the 
 hollow of his heart." 
 
 " Hinckley? " asked Viola, with gentle irony. 
 
 " Well, Hinckley, I don t know. Hinckley s 
 a hard nut. Still, Hinckley will come into line 
 now. He must. He can t help seeing that 
 Porter s a big man. He is a big man, Miss 
 Buckingham. His heart is big enough to take 
 in even Bob Hinckley." 
 
 " And his head big enough to take him in 
 too? " was the sympathetic inquiry. 
 
 "Oh, a dozen Hinckleys. That trick of 
 speaking and just at the right moment 
 Hinckley never would have thought of anything 
 so simple as that. We shall live to see Porter 
 president, Miss Buckingham. Mark my 
 words." 
 
 "I do like a prophet s." 
 
318 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Here others began to arrive, Flitters and 
 Flora, Wingate, then Constance, who had not 
 been near Viola since the famous lot-drawing 
 at Falmouth and who had now been invited to 
 spend the night for purposes of explanation and 
 reconciliation, if necessary. Flora had com 
 municated to Viola her suspicions of Constance s 
 feeling for Flitters and they coincided so exactly 
 with Viola s own that she was determined to 
 look into the matter as far as possible. 
 
 " So glad you could come, dear," Viola said, 
 taking both her guest s hands affectionately. 
 
 But Constance s eye passed beyond her host 
 ess to Flitters and Flora who were together at 
 the piano. Yes," she said, without enthusi 
 asm, " I was glad to come." 
 
 Then a group of other girls appeared, Laura 
 and Grace and Ruth. Then Eugene McCarthy. 
 Then one or two of Porter s political associates. 
 And Viola was obliged to turn her attention 
 from immediate friends to the judicious assort 
 ing of comparative strangers. 
 
 Wingate naturally attached himself to Ruth, 
 and listened with interest to her slightly hoarse- 
 voiced enthusiasm over the events of the day. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wingate, wasn t it splendid? I 
 would have given anything to go; but Viola 
 advised me not. She said the crowd would be 
 noisy and dirty, but I don t mind noise and dirt 
 in a great cause, do you? Think of Mr. Por 
 ter s getting up there with them all against 
 him well, not all, of course, but so many of 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 319 
 
 them and winning them over just by speak 
 ing. I can imagine how he looked. I think 
 he s so handsome, that is, so distinguished look 
 ing, so earnest, as if he believed every word he 
 says and were bound to make you believe it. 
 And he did make all those people." 
 
 Wingate listened and thought he had rather 
 hear her speak than Porter. He wished, too, 
 that he had gifts of earnestness and spell-bind 
 ing and all that sort of thing. Then he saw 
 McCarthy coming towards them and wished 
 other things distinctly discourteous. He would 
 have moved away; but he knew that Ruth 
 would not care if he did; therefore he didn t. 
 
 " I m so glad to see you, Eugene," Ruth 
 cried. " Just think, we haven t met since that 
 odd evening at Falmouth." 
 
 " Odd evening at Falmouth? " repeated Win- 
 gate, who felt that he must keep in the conver 
 sation or leave. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Ruth. " You weren t there, 
 were you? It was such fun!" 
 
 Then she gave a vivid account of that inter 
 esting occasion, lot-drawing and all. Wingate 
 listened, but heard not. Her quick speech and 
 nimble gesture were more to him than what she 
 told and still more was the evident fact that 
 though she spoke to him, she was talking to 
 Eugene. Eugene must confirm her recollec 
 tions and supply her deficiencies. Eugene was 
 everything and he, Wingate, was nothing. Yet 
 Eugene was a little, insignificant, commonplace 
 
320 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 fiddler no more. It was so curious the way 
 these matters worked. 
 
 " Now those three are too old to be fooled by 
 Cupid, don t you think? " said Flitters to 
 Flora, as they leaned against the piano, side by 
 side, turning over new songs and gazing at the 
 company. 
 
 " The older, the more easily fooled, I believe; 
 when Cupid cares to take the trouble," was the 
 sage reply. 
 
 " Perhaps so. I ve really had so little to do 
 with Cupid myself. And you? " 
 
 "Who, I? And Cupid? Look at my dusty 
 brown shock of hair and the queer lines in my 
 face and the awkward angles all over me, as 
 I look at them in the glass daily, with agony, 
 and then don t talk about me and Cupid." 
 
 Flitters turned and took a cool survey of the 
 indicated object of contemplation. Then he 
 said, with slow impertinence, " I ve always 
 heard that Cupid, in applying his torch, con 
 sidered rather the combustible than the esthetic. 
 Witness Eugene there, with whom you certainly 
 compare favourably as regards personal attrac 
 tions. In fact, I find your speaking coiffure, 
 your mask of gaiety, and your crisp, definite 
 gestures, rather piquant. Compare yourself 
 with Constance, for instance. Now, of the two, 
 for my part " 
 
 " Oh, Constance! " Flora interrupted. 
 " Cupid has got his whole grip on her. You d 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 321 
 
 better look out: there s trouble brewing for 
 you from Constance." 
 
 " I don t think so," was the careless answer. 
 
 But just then the hero of the evening entered 
 and left no room for further personalities. The 
 instant he appeared a universal cheer went up, 
 which seemed to fill the whole house and must 
 have flowed out upon the mild decorum of Sep 
 tember Beacon Street. And Flitters, jumping 
 on to the piano-stool, initiated a thunderous 
 rendering of the " Mosquito " chorus, " Hurrah 
 for Billy the guv nor." 
 
 Porter took his honours serenely, if not 
 meekly, and bowed acknowledgment. Then he 
 shook hands with his hostess, who had stepped 
 forward to meet him. All eyes were upon the 
 two. He knew it, and she knew it, and Viola 
 felt a slight increase of colour in her cheek, 
 which vexed her. Otherwise their mutual salu 
 tation was as tranquil as if they two were in 
 the room alone. 
 
 " It was a noble, glorious, worthy, well- 
 earned victory," she said. " All we Porterites 
 are proud and we know it is only a sure step 
 ping-stone to the other and more important 
 victory later." 
 
 Porter bowed. But bowing was not enough. 
 "Speech! Speech!" shouted Flitters, Burke, 
 Wingate, everybody. 
 
 " I ve spoken enough for one day," Porter 
 protested. " Besides, this is a purely social oc 
 
 casion." 
 
322 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Nevertheless, he did say a few words further, 
 addressed chiefly to Viola, conveying his feeling 
 that her support and that of her friends was the 
 greatest possible testimony to the importance 
 of his cause, and his hope that, if he did succeed, 
 he should be able to justify their confidence. In 
 concluding he suggested that Mr. Buckingham 
 would probably be able to say something more 
 appropriate to the occasion. 
 
 " More appropriate to you," cried Flitters, 
 nothing loath to take up his turn. " What do 
 you mean by this humility? Don t you know 
 that the one thing a politician may not be, is 
 modest? He may be generous, he may be loyal, 
 he may be intelligent, he may be honest, he may 
 even, in rare cases, be a gentleman. Modest he 
 cannot be." 
 
 Who said I was modest? " interjected Por 
 ter, with entire calmness. 
 
 " Not you. You didn t even pretend to be, 
 which is an old trick, a common trick, though it 
 often goes. You were modest, which is dam 
 nable. Now, my very good friends, let us put 
 the modest gentleman and his concerns com 
 pletely out of sight for an hour or two and eat 
 and drink and enjoy ourselves." 
 
 So they did; and for the most part politics 
 were not mentioned, though now and then whis 
 pers were exchanged in a corner. 
 
 " I haven t thanked you yet for the hint you 
 gave me last week," said Porter to Flitters. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 323 
 
 " It was of immense service and so out of 
 your line." 
 
 " I have no line," was the contemptuous an 
 swer. " You creatures with a line go like bum 
 blebees, first a blind knock-down rush in one 
 direction, then the same thing in another all 
 useless. I flit. I happened to flit your way. 
 Don t thank me." 
 
 When the guests were gone, trailing their 
 wild gaiety after them, Viola sat down quietly 
 with Constance. 
 
 " I ve been nearly a month in town," said 
 the former. " I hoped to see you before." 
 
 " Did you? " was the cold answer. " I have 
 been very busy." 
 
 " Of course, if you ve been busy But I 
 trust there s been nothing else to prevent your 
 coming, nothing that happened in any way 
 at Falmouth." 
 
 Constance spoke without looking up from her 
 hands which were busily engaged with her fan. 
 "What should there be?" 
 
 " I don t know why there should be anything. 
 Only I wondered." 
 
 There was a moment s silence. Then Con 
 stance opened and shut her fan sharply and 
 looked at Viola with angry brown eyes. " I 
 don t think I m clever enough for your set," 
 she said. 
 
 " Cleverness is nothing/ answered Viola, gen 
 tler than usual. " I don t think I am clever in 
 
324 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 the sense you mean. Sometimes cleverness is 
 worse than nothing. I hope you do not feel 
 that any of my friends have meant to be un 
 civil." 
 
 " I don t know what they mean." 
 
 " I could not help fancying," Viola went on, 
 slowly, but without hesitation, " that perhaps 
 George s attentions he is too careless about 
 such things. That business of drawing lots was 
 so stupid." 
 
 Constance woke up now. " Stupid! Oh, no, 
 he s not stupid. But of course I am. And you 
 think I ve made a goose of myself. And you 
 think I m in love with him. Well, what if I 
 am? Didn t he give me reason to be, walking 
 with me, and talking with me, and asking me 
 to play to him? He has a way of looking at 
 you Well, never mind all that. I don t 
 know why I came here. Just to see him flirt 
 ing with that Flora Chantrey, great scrawny 
 thing, with her clothes thrown on to her any 
 way, and her dirty brown wopse of hair." 
 
 " But, Constance," interrupted Viola, infi 
 nitely distressed, " you take all George s jests so 
 seriously." 
 
 "His jests!" Her pale face was really 
 flushed for once, her eyes almost wild. " Let 
 him keep his jests for those that understand 
 them. I won t be one of his jests. You ve been 
 good to me. I don t deny that. You re differ 
 ent from the others. But they re always after 
 what you call jests. They re cruel, they re 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 325 
 
 heartless, they re spiteful and I ll tell you 
 what I think I think they re all stupid. I m 
 going now. It was kind of you to ask me, but 
 I don t want to stay where I m reminded of 
 them. Good-bye." 
 
 And in spite of all Viola s protests and en 
 deavours to detain her for the night in accord 
 ance with their original arrangement, she in 
 sisted on getting together her belongings and 
 departing in a cab, though it was close to mid 
 night. 
 
 " I don t blame you," were her last words to 
 Viola. " But I don t want to see any of your 
 set again, above all not her nor him." 
 
 As the cab drove off Viola realized that you 
 cannot always judge a day, no matter how 
 golden, till it is ended. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE Republican convention met on the day 
 after the Democratic, and Heath was nomi 
 nated with very little opposition. He was not 
 in every respect a popular candidate. Many 
 old Republicans complained that he was not the 
 sort of governor Massachusetts had had in the 
 past. But he was rich, he was aristocratic, he 
 spoke well and was agreeable, when he chose to 
 be so, and he had the right men behind him. 
 As his uncle said, if he would not make a good 
 governor, at least there was nothing better in 
 sight. 
 
 "Well, Dudley," began Wood, as the two 
 met in the latter s office the morning after the 
 nomination. " It s up to you to show all there 
 is in you." 
 
 " Not to me," was the cool reply. " To you. 
 I m only the figurehead now." 
 
 "Hardly," answered Wood. "After Janu 
 ary first you may be a figurehead, if you want 
 to; but till then you ve got to work. It s speak, 
 speak, speak, till you drop. No common hus 
 tling will beat Porter. I can tell you that." 
 
 " Porter has you all so scared he can walk 
 right in over you, without taking any trouble, 
 I believe." 
 
JttATTHEW SORTER 327 
 
 "Is any one more scared than you? " 
 " I m not scared. I don t care enough." 
 " Oh, drop that," ejaculated the uncle, with 
 much annoyance. " And let s get down to busi 
 
 ness." 
 
 So they did. And Wood found to his satis 
 faction, as always, that when his nephew threw 
 off his superficial cynicism and faced a practi 
 cal question, no man had a clearer grip. There 
 must be speakers here, there, and everywhere, 
 one senator must speak, perhaps both. Money 
 must be found and used without stint. Well, 
 it could be and should be. Newspapers must be 
 bought and employed in editorials, letters, ad 
 vertisements, everything. 
 
 " Your favourite scheme in regard to Porter 
 and my cousin? " asked Heath, with a sneer. 
 
 " All in good time," answered the uncle, un 
 moved. " He s piling the thing up. Just think 
 of her visiting him in Foxbridge. I can use 
 that when I get to it. Then there are those 
 Democrat letters. We must put a sharp fel 
 low on to those." 
 
 " It will take a sharp fellow," agreed Heath 
 cordially. " I like those letters. By George, 
 they almost persuade me." 
 
 " If you don t look out, they ll do worse than 
 persuade you." Wood was silent for a moment, 
 running over his memoranda. 
 
 " Anything more to be done with Hinckley? " 
 Heath inquired. " Or do you feel that your 
 money was thrown away?" 
 
328 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " No, no! " answered the Republican chief 
 tain. " I haven t a doubt but Hinckley did his 
 level best to deliver the goods, for his own sake 
 more than for ours." 
 
 " Well, can t he deliver another lot now? " 
 
 Wood s red forehead contracted with the ef 
 fort of thought. " I don t like to tackle him," 
 he said finally. "If he can stick a knife into 
 Porter quietly, I believe he ll do it. But he 
 can t take any risks on flying the track. The 
 party s the whole thing to Hinckley got to 
 be." 
 
 So the two leaders ended their conclave and 
 as a result of it things began to move through 
 out the old Bay State in an unusual fashion. 
 The voice of the spellbinder was heard in the 
 land, and big newspapers and little threw ink 
 and mud over each other and everybody else 
 with inexhaustible joviality. Only Wood, as he 
 had hinted, did not at first let loose his whole 
 battery in regard to Viola and Porter. A 
 chance shot here and there carried out his inten 
 tions for the present. 
 
 On the Democratic side the activity was even 
 greater than on the Republican. So far as 
 Hinckley was concerned, Porter was secretly in 
 clined to agree with Wood s opinion, at any 
 rate as to the chairman s personal inclinations. 
 But, on the surface, his conduct was irreproach 
 able. He and his friends seemed to take hold 
 of the work with zeal. Meetings were arranged 
 everywhere. Porter was to speak all over the 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 329 
 
 state. Money was solicited and was forthcom 
 ing in considerable quantity, independently of 
 the efforts of Wingate, who assured Porter in 
 confidence that he could command almost any 
 amount that might be needed. 
 
 But undeniably the " Democrat " letters were 
 getting to be more and more a prominent ele 
 ment of the campaign. Everybody was reading 
 them and talking of them. The vigour, the 
 clearness of the style, the direct logic of the 
 ideas, brought Porter s position within the grasp 
 of thousands who in general regarded politics 
 as matter indifferent or detestable. The Re 
 publican attempts at reply were often clever and 
 ingenious, but rarely convincing. Almost all 
 of them made the mistake of assailing Porter 
 personally, not only with hints of his new social 
 connection, but with general insinuations as to 
 his political purposes. Of these " Democrat " 
 took very little notice, disposing of them with 
 a brief word which brought out in burning clear 
 ness the petty nature of such attacks. 
 
 Various conjectures were still brought for 
 ward as to the authorship of the letters. Win- 
 gate was the favourite; but those who knew 
 Wingate best were commonly ready with the 
 friendly remark that they did not believe he had 
 it in him. If not Wingate, who? 
 
 Porter, at any rate, could answer the question, 
 and the letters certainly meant a thousand times 
 more to him than to any one else. Each one 
 was a new revelation of the author s understand- 
 
330 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 ing of his idea. Long as he had meditated on 
 it and lived with it, often as he had turned it 
 over in every conceivable connection, her han 
 dling seemed to give it new significance and 
 vitality even for him. And with his gratitude 
 for such sympathy, his personal feeling, his now 
 admitted love, had grown more and more rap 
 idly. It was not the absorbed subjection of 
 sex to sex, entertained with humiliation and 
 cherished with self -contempt, which had formed 
 so large a part, if not the whole, of his love for 
 Margaret. Viola now seemed to him more beau 
 tiful, more feminine than Margaret, of an am 
 pler, nobler, purer femininity. But the attrac 
 tion to her was not only that of sex to sex, but 
 of unsexed spirit to spirit. In living with her, 
 in working with her, there would be no abnega 
 tion, no limitation, every pulse of love would 
 mean a pulse of freer, stronger, richer spiritual 
 life. And as he read the letters in the light of 
 this feeling, he began to permit himself the ques 
 tion whether, after all, her own attitude was so 
 absolutely impersonal as he had thought it. 
 Could she enter so perfectly into his head and 
 not a little into his heart? Could she ? . 
 
 Her letter of Saturday, October seventh, 
 came upon him when he was most busy with 
 these interrogations. It was to the full effect 
 ive as any before, and after dwelling upon it all 
 that day and quoting a considerable part of it 
 in his speech that night, when Sunday evening 
 came, he decided that the least he could do was 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 331 
 
 to call and thank her. If if . But there 
 were no " ifs." Anything beyond bare thanks 
 should be left to accident and circumstance. He 
 was free as air and so was she. There was no 
 reason in the wide world why they should not 
 marry. As for the idle malice of Heath and 
 his set of political scandal-mongers, no man who 
 was worthy to make himself a place in the world 
 would be deterred from doing anything that 
 was not dishonourable by the chatter of such 
 as they. 
 
 He found one or two callers with Viola; but 
 they speedily departed and the two were left 
 alone. One of the subtlest psychologists who 
 ever lived tells us that " A man, my good sir, 
 has seldom an offer of kindness to make to a 
 woman, but she has a presentiment of it some 
 moments before." It would be too much to say 
 that Viola suspected what was going on in her 
 visitor s mind; but she was instantly aware of 
 something uncommon, and her own manner was 
 therefore not quite natural, as she accepted his 
 thanks for her last letter and his enthusiastic 
 praise of the tact and delicacy which she had 
 shown in all of them. 
 
 " It is pleasant to be appreciated," she said. 
 " But you exaggerate my part. Let a person 
 once believe thoroughly, heartily, in a noble 
 cause, and all these gifts, such as they are, will 
 be added unto him." 
 
 Then she went on, with perhaps a somewhat 
 unnecessary haste, to ask one string of political 
 
332 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 questions after another. His speaking last 
 night, was it successful and effective? But of 
 course it was. Had he seen Heath s speech also 
 made last night? Clever, of course, but so 
 hollow and artificial, and thoroughly false. 
 Surely it was not possible the people could be 
 imposed on by such things? And Hinckley, 
 was he wholly to be trusted? 
 
 So she talked, and he listened, and answered 
 when it was necessary; but his answers were so 
 brief, so insufficient, so lacking in his usual clear 
 vigour, that at last she found herself embar 
 rassed and hardly able to go on. Yet she hesi 
 tated why, she did not know to ask the 
 reason of his abstraction. 
 
 He did not leave her long in doubt. " Miss 
 Buckingham," he began. She had heard many 
 tones of his voice before, speaking of many 
 things; but she had never heard that tone. 
 " Miss Buckingham, of course you remember 
 what you told me at Falmouth of Heath s 
 schemes and plans? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered, shrinking back in her 
 deep chair, her hands lying in her lap. " Yes." 
 
 But he grew bolder now he had begun, leaned 
 forward more earnestly as she shrank back. 
 " Is it, can it be only my idea, my cause, that 
 you believe in love?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Porter, don t!" she cried, with 
 an expression of pain on her pale face, stretch 
 ing out one hand involuntarily as if to put aside 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 333 
 
 this new, distressing thought. " Don t, I beg 
 of you." 
 
 " But I must," he persisted, firm and quiet, 
 though he saw her trouble and did not know how 
 to interpret it. "I must. I have got clear with 
 myself in the last few days and I can t go on 
 making believe any more. I have told myself 
 that I must look upon you as a friendly jour 
 nalist, an ardent political follower, a faithful 
 friend and companion. Oh, a deus or dea 
 ex machina, if you like, anything but a woman 
 to be loved. Well, I can t. You are a woman 
 - and I love you. But it isn t mere love. Isn t 
 it the rarest of things that love should come with 
 such perfect sympathy, such complete under 
 standing, such an absolute oneness of desires 
 and aims? That is, my love. I haven t dared 
 to ask myself whether you loved me. Why 
 should you? How can you? " 
 
 After the first attempt to stop the torrent, 
 Viola had sat motionless, looking, with troubled 
 eyes, into vacancy. But now it seemed neces 
 sary to speak. " It isn t that," she said, in a 
 broken voice, " it isn t any question of you or 
 me. It must not be. It cannot be." 
 
 " Why? " 
 
 :< It doesn t seem right. We are not children, 
 to blend a great cause with childish love- 
 making." 
 
 " Not children s love man s and woman s 
 love. Have you never divined mine? " 
 
334 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 "Never," she said, as it seemed, sincerely; 
 but she added, " I would not. And then 
 only last spring Margaret Ferguson." 
 
 It was his turn to shrink now. " I know. 
 How often I have blamed myself! But you 
 don t realize how different it is. That love 
 worked against all my ideals. This love works 
 with them, makes my nature larger, fuller, riper, 
 on every side of it." 
 
 She listened, in the deepest thought, her eyes 
 turned from vacancy to him. " I can t admit 
 it, can t recognize it," she said. " I have lived 
 my life thirty years for myself; as I thought, 
 past all the trouble of these love infatuations. 
 Self was never enough for me, yet I found 
 nothing worth giving it up for. Then a great 
 ideal came to me. I have worked for it, given 
 myself up to it, with all the strength I had saved 
 and stored for so long. It was a consecration, 
 as holy as a nun s to her other-worldliness. 
 Now you ask me to blend it all with love, just 
 common, human love, which I have always half- 
 despised. It seems an utter profanation." She 
 clasped her hands and gazed at him in an agony 
 of mute appeal. 
 
 Yet through it all he noticed that she did not 
 say she did not love him and as he answered 
 her there was a strange, grave exultation in his 
 voice. " Just common human love," he re 
 peated, " beautiful and not to be despised, 
 because it is common and human. Viola, you 
 have taught me so many things, shown me so 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 335 
 
 much that is fine and beautiful in ways remote 
 from the common passage of human feet. 
 Haven t I perhaps done just this one little thing 
 for you, shown you that what is common may 
 be lovely, not in spite of, but because of its com 
 monness? Instead of profaning the cause, it 
 seems to me that love would enrich and ennoble 
 it, just as, on the other hand, the cause would 
 sanctify love." 
 
 She made no answer and for a long time they 
 sat silent, while the clock ticked and the city 
 noises rumbled and resounded far away. When 
 at last she spoke, her voice was gentler even 
 than usual. " I can t find myself in it all. It 
 seems to me impossible. Will you do one thing 
 for me forget this utterly, till the election is 
 over? Then we shall have time to think it out 
 in peace. Until then I can t. Will you promise 
 me? " She rose and extended her hand as she 
 asked the question, evidently meaning that he 
 should leave her. 
 
 Loath as he was, he could hardly refuse. 
 Standing close in front of her, with her hand in 
 his, he murmured, " I promise." Then he 
 pressed the hand passionately to his lips and was 
 gone. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 " I RATHER think I shall call on Viola Buck 
 ingham," remarked Margaret Heath one morn 
 ing to her husband. 
 
 " I rather think you won t, if you consult my 
 wishes/ was the decided reply. 
 
 " By all means let us consult your wishes. 
 Any reason to offer? " 
 
 " Aren t my wishes enough? " 
 
 * Well, no, since you ask me, they aren t. 
 How often do you consult mine? " 
 
 There was a silence, while the husband sipped 
 his hot coffee and the wife crumbled a bit of 
 muffin in her fingers. The wife spoke first. 
 
 * Why don t you answer me? " 
 
 "About what? Oh, about Viola. I have 
 answered you." 
 
 Very well. Then I shall go." 
 
 The husband set his coffee down too hard 
 and spilled it. " Margaret, why should you do 
 anything of the kind? Don t you understand 
 decency? This isn t decency. In the middle of 
 a hot campaign for the wife of one candidate 
 to visit the headquarters of the other side!" 
 
 The headquarters of the other side," re 
 peated Margaret thoughtfully, still crumbling. 
 
 336 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 337 
 
 w * I didn t know it had gone so far as that. But 
 that is all politics. I care nothing whatever 
 for politics. Miss Buckingham is an acquaint 
 ance of mine. I am curious to see her just now. 
 And, Dudley, you mentioned decency. You 
 can t think how amusing that is between you 
 and me." 
 
 She leaned both round, brown arms, sleeveless 
 to the elbow, on the table, rested her chin on 
 them and gazed at him, half in coquetry, half in 
 hatred. 
 
 But he cared for neither the hatred nor the 
 coquetry and there was only indifference and 
 impatience in the glance he gave her back. 
 " You persist in doing this thing when I ask 
 you not? " he inquired. 
 
 Still in the same attitude she answered, cold 
 and slow. " I may. If I do, it will be chiefly 
 because you ask me not." 
 
 He swallowed his coffee and left the room 
 without another word, and she watched him go, 
 her attitude and look unchanged. 
 
 That very afternoon she had herself driven 
 to Viola s and found her at home alone. They 
 had not met since Margaret s marriage and sur 
 veyed each other curiously. " Handsomer and 
 more cynical than ever," thought Viola, as her 
 eye ran over the trim, plump figure in the 
 golden-brown velvet dress, with a heavy black 
 hat shading the brilliant eyes. And Margaret 
 noted a change in Viola as well. " What is it? " 
 Margaret asked herself. " Is she less haughty 
 
338 MCATTHEW TORTER 
 
 or more? A queen? Of Democrats? Is it all 
 Mat s doing? " 
 
 While they thought, they talked however 
 quite differently. 
 
 " My husband forbade my coming here," said 
 Margaret, after the first greetings were over 
 and the two were seated, facing each other. 
 
 "Indeed?" Viola s answer indicated polite 
 curiosity, nothing more. 
 
 " Oh, yes. He is so full of politics." 
 
 " Not unnaturally," the hostess interrupted. 
 You think so? Well, perhaps, for a man. 
 Fortunately women are above such things and 
 can enjoy a clearer social atmosphere." 
 
 Viola made no comment on this, simply leaned 
 quietly back in her chair and waited; so the 
 visitor went on. " Dudley thinks, in fact he 
 said that you have quite a political salon here 
 are almost the centre of everything that is 
 opposed to him. Absurd, isn t he?" 
 
 "Well," answered Viola, still leaning back, 
 still untroubled. " I don t know about the salon 
 part of it." 
 
 "But that s the best part of it," Margaret 
 went on, eager in her words, but cold and cyn 
 ical in her manner. " The salon if one could 
 have it would be worth while. But fancy a 
 salon of Democrats ! " 
 
 " Or of Republicans." 
 
 " Just so. Or of Republicans. Then you do 
 admit that you are a centre of opposition? " 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 339 
 
 This with the inconceivable impertinence which 
 no one better understood. 
 
 But Viola cared as little for her impertinence 
 as the moon for a spitting firework. " Of 
 progress, I should like to be. Your people rep 
 resent the opposition." 
 
 Margaret fell back with a little play gasp. 
 " Excuse me," she murmured. " But you have 
 changed so. I can t seem to think of you and 
 radical politics together." 
 
 Viola smiled. "I m sorry to impose such a 
 mental strain upon you. But if you take it 
 quietly, perhaps the image may become accli 
 mated in time." 
 
 " Of course," went on the visitor, " I can un 
 derstand ambition. It is pleasant to rule, pleas 
 ant to feel one s self the pulse of the machine, 
 pleasant to stand behind and think that all these 
 contemptible political puppets are running at 
 one s beck and call. There s a real woman s 
 part to play in all that. Only I never should 
 have thought you were the woman to play it." 
 
 " How little we understand even those we 
 think we understand best," was the calm reply. 
 Then Viola, still calm, as if she were imparting 
 a recipe for cake, went on to say a few things. 
 " Do you know, Mrs. Heath, I m not that kind 
 of woman at all. I m not cherishing any am 
 bitions nor trying to move any puppets. A 
 great idea has come into my life and changed 
 the whole course of it. I ve come to believe in 
 
340 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 the people, to think that the working out of 
 democratic government is the secret of the 
 future, the true way that the world is to be 
 saved politically, if it is to be saved. Such 
 an idea does alter one s character, no doubt." 
 
 The lips were Viola s, but through them Mar 
 garet heard a voice not Viola s, Porter s, only 
 Porter s, and the voice meant far more to her 
 than the things that were uttered. Who can 
 question that Viola knew it would be so? 
 
 But whatever agitation Mrs. Heath may have 
 felt, she showed none, unless by the added cold 
 ness of sarcasm in her tone. :c How very odd! " 
 she exclaimed. " Of course girls in college often 
 take up enthusiasms in that way." 
 
 Viola kindly completed the idea. " But at 
 our age enthusiasm seems out of place. To be 
 sure. Yet, do you know, the enthusiasms of 
 youth, I sometimes think, are the best thing to 
 keep us young." 
 
 " Now from a merely cosmetic point of view 
 I ve often thought the contrary. Enthusiasm 
 makes wrinkles." 
 
 Wrinkles on the face, perhaps; but it 
 smooths out wrinkles in the heart." 
 
 " Ah, but men don t see the wrinkles in the 
 heart." 
 
 " That s true," answered Viola, with an air 
 of profound reflection. " I hadn t thought of 
 that." 
 
 These abstractions, however, were not what 
 Margaret was after. She returned to politics. 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 341 
 
 " To think of your being a Democrat," she 
 said. " A radical. I can t get over it. Though, 
 of course, they do say that the bitterest radicals 
 always come from the aristocracy." 
 
 " I don t come from any aristocracy. And I 
 hope I sha n t be bitter." 
 
 But Margaret paid no attention. The asso 
 ciations must be the worst of it, I should think," 
 she went on. "Of course Democrats all drink 
 and their personal habits must be so un 
 pleasant." 
 
 " Of course," agreed Viola, with much cheer 
 fulness. " I try to bear it as well as I can." 
 
 " And then, worst of all, to have no chance 
 of success. I take so little interest in politics; 
 but to be a Democrat in Massachusetts has 
 always seemed to me pathetic." 
 
 " Perhaps if you took more interest in poli 
 tics, you would realize that the day is coming 
 when it may not be so pathetic, when the pathos 
 may even be on the other side." 
 
 Margaret had not mentioned Porter as yet, 
 but this seemed to her to be the time. She 
 sighed a little. " How completely he has - 
 hypnotized you, hasn t he?" 
 
 The suggestion was taken up almost before 
 it was out of her mouth. There was no feint 
 ing, no pretence of surprise or uncertainty. 
 " Oh, yes. Isn t he a wonderful man? I believe 
 in his ideas. He has explained them to me so 
 patiently. But I believe most of all in him. 
 He has the nature that wins, don t you think 
 
342 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 so? But then, considering who your husband 
 is, you can t think so. I m sorry. After all, 
 wasn t it you who would talk politics? " 
 
 " Dear me, don t apologize," was the cool re 
 ply. "Of course I talked politics. It seems to 
 be in the air here. And naturally women be 
 lieve in the success of their husbands. 
 Still " 
 
 But the sentence was broken off by the en 
 trance of visitors. They were somewhat amazed 
 at finding Mrs. Heath, and their efforts to con 
 ceal their amazement showed it. But this was 
 exactly what Margaret liked, and she talked 
 more than ever, darting her sharp wit right and 
 left into the trim draperies of propriety. 
 
 Then other visitors arrived, men and women. 
 Then Porter. A dozen pairs of eyes watched 
 the hostess as she greeted him; for by this time 
 their relations were matter of some public curi 
 osity, though no one could hint at anything 
 indecorous or in any way imply an instant s 
 failure in dignity on the part of either. Nor was 
 there anything to feed curiosity on this occasion. 
 They met with unheightened colour and un 
 troubled voice. And when they had exchanged 
 salutations, they each turned to some one else. 
 Only, in a few moments, Porter, explaining that 
 he had simply called to make some necessary 
 inquiry, made it and took his leave. 
 
 The occasion exactly fell in with Margaret s 
 wanton perversity of mood. When Porter ap 
 peared, she had bowed to him and said a civil 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 343 
 
 word, also under curious general observation. 
 Nothing more was required. But when he rose 
 to go, the spirit of mischief put it into her head 
 to go with him. Exhaustless in ingenuity of 
 tact, when she so willed it, she managed her 
 adieus in such a fashion that he could neither 
 hasten away in advance nor lag behind; and as 
 the servant closed the great front door, they 
 stood on the broad sidewalk of Beacon Street 
 together. 
 
 Porter was keenly aware that the situation 
 was ridiculous, and could not be too grateful 
 that the fast falling twilight made them less 
 recognizable than they would otherwise have 
 been. He stepped forward quickly to assist his 
 tormentor into the waiting carriage, only anx 
 ious to get rid of her; but she stepped forward 
 more quickly still. 
 
 " Drive home," she said to the coachman. 
 " I am going to walk." 
 
 The carriage was gone, almost before Porter 
 knew it, and Margaret stood looking at him 
 and laughing her hard, cruel laugh. " Of 
 course I take it for granted you walk with me," 
 she said. 
 
 " Mrs. Heath," he began, in remonstrance, at 
 the same time moving along beside her, for it 
 was impossible to stand there and dispute the 
 point, " Mrs. Heath, what can you be thinking 
 of?" 
 
 " Of you," was the short answer. " But don t 
 call me Mrs. Heath." 
 
344 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 " Don t you understand," he continued to 
 urge, " that of all people in the world I am the 
 last whom you ought to be seen with for 
 every reason? " 
 
 " I care nothing for reasons," she burst out, 
 with the same wayward petulance. " I should 
 like to walk with you and to have you walk 
 with me. Under the circumstances you can t 
 very well leave me to go home in the dark. 
 But what cowards these politics make of a man. 
 Do you know, only this morning Dudley was 
 talking to me about decency! Think of it! 
 Dudley and decency! " 
 
 Porter did think of it. This man, whose name 
 she could not associate with decency, was her 
 husband, had been her husband only four 
 months. Doubtless, if she had married another 
 husband, her feeling by this time would have 
 been the same. On the whole, it was certainly 
 better to be the one she rejected than the one 
 she chose. But he said nothing of all this; only 
 walked rapidly beside her, wishing with all his 
 heart that he were walking somewhere any 
 where else. 
 
 She was not disposed to silence, however. " I 
 wanted to talk to you," she said, hurrying her 
 speech, careless, defiant. " And I didn t know 
 when I could get another chance. I wanted to 
 tell you that I regret it all now. I made a mis 
 take, a fool s mistake. When I look back 
 and look forward, I see that you are the real 
 big man and the one I have married is paste- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 345 
 
 board, shoddy, cheap, shallow, worthless, ready 
 to sacrifice me and everything else to the 
 wretched success which he hasn t character 
 enough to win by any sacrifice. Oh, yes, I see 
 it all now- Well, why don t you speak?" 
 She turned half towards him, looked up, and 
 the light they were passing struck fire in her 
 eyes. " Why don t you thank me? Why don t 
 you say you will be only too glad to take me 
 now, as I am, a little shopworn? Oh, don t 
 worry. I wouldn t come to you, if you wanted 
 me. I wouldn t even have spoken, if I hadn t 
 known you wouldn t want me. I am not quite 
 such a fool as that amounts to not for de 
 cency s sake, but for the sake of common sense. 
 You don t want me. I know that well enough. 
 But that you should want that tall skeleton 
 we ve just parted from, that wax figure of a 
 woman, who dabbles in politics to please you 
 and thinks she has ideas! Should a man come 
 to a woman for ideas? Ah, well. It s all over 
 now. I ve said what I want to say. Go!" 
 
 She stopped short, as she saw he hesitated, 
 and stood directly facing him in the middle of 
 the sidewalk. Two or three passers-by looked 
 and wondered. 
 
 " Mrs. Heath," he began, stammering, " Mar 
 garet - 
 
 But she interrupted him at once. " You ve 
 nothing to say. What can you say? Will you 
 go?" 
 
346 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 He paused a second, tried again to speak, 
 then lifted his hat and went. 
 
 Margaret s day was neatly finished by a mid 
 night interview with her husband. 
 
 " I heard of your disgraceful conduct this 
 afternoon," said he, entering her dressing-room, 
 when she had come in from the theatre. 
 
 " Did you, indeed? " she asked, stretching 
 out her feet to the fire, her skirt raised just a 
 little. 
 
 " I did, indeed, and your walk with Porter 
 to crown it. Have you no sense of decency? " 
 
 " Lots. If I hadn t, how could I get such 
 pleasure from outraging it? " 
 
 " I know well enough you care more for 
 Porter s little finger than you do for the whole 
 of me." 
 
 She nodded, looking up at him from her com 
 fortable position. " That s true enough. But 
 don t worry. I sha n t forget my wifely duties. 
 I m not a fool. But isn t he a big man, Dud 
 ley? You re such a pigmy, such a trim whipper- 
 snapper, such a tawdry mass of shallow decency, 
 beside him. Oh, if I had had my wits about 
 me, what a pair we should have made. And 
 now he s taken up with that tall, pale woman, 
 that ghost of a woman! " 
 
 1 Yes," he said, with a flavour of triumph. 
 He cares nothing more for you anyway. 
 That s one thing sure. And all my doing." 
 
 Your doing?" 
 
 " Well, it was Uncle William s scheme. I 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 347 
 
 never believed it would work; but I carried it 
 out." Then, with jealous delight, he told her 
 how he himself had first brought Viola and 
 Porter together, first laid the foundation of the 
 wall that had grown up between his wife and 
 her former lover. 
 
 But she chose to look rather at the political 
 aspect than at the personal. "What fools!" 
 she cried. " What a man s device ! Heavy- 
 headed, thick-witted. So like your uncle and 
 you not to foresee that she would marry 
 him." 
 
 " I don t foresee it now," answered Heath 
 sulkily. 
 
 "But I foresee it for you, then. She will 
 marry him, she will, she will! Now, good night. 
 And in future, if you want me to treat decency 
 with any respect, don t mention it to me." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 As the campaign went on, Porter s vague dis 
 satisfaction with Hinckley tended to increase. 
 There was no definite ground of complaint. 
 All necessary arrangements seemed to be at 
 tended to satisfactorily and to run smoothly. 
 The money which Wingate raised in abundance 
 seemed to be judiciously expended. Yet Hinck- 
 ley s attitude was cold. He did his work with 
 out enthusiasm. " The party has decided," he 
 appeared to say, " I am the party s slave. What 
 more can I do than I am doing? " 
 
 Wingate appreciated this and grew restive. 
 So did Smith and Burke. Finally Porter de 
 termined to put an end to it, if possible, at least 
 to arrive at some understanding; and he ar 
 ranged an interview with Hinckley, who in con 
 sequence came to Porter s office on the morning 
 of Saturday, October twenty-first. 
 
 " Good day, Mr. Hinckley," began Porter, 
 with his usual cordiality. Then, as soon as his 
 visitor was seated, he went right into the matter 
 in hand. " I asked you to come here, because I 
 thought we needed a little talk." 
 
 "I ve thought so for some time myself," was 
 the genial answer. 
 
 348 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 349 
 
 " Exactly. Now I haven t a word of fault 
 to find with the way you are conducting the 
 campaign. Everything has been done as it 
 ought to be done. And yet somehow I feel 
 that your heart isn t in it." 
 
 Hinckley smiled, with perfect apparent 
 frankness. "Mr. Porter," he said, "the first 
 lesson one learns in politics very quickly 
 is how and when to lie. The second is learned, 
 only after a long apprenticeship how and 
 when to tell the truth. I ve been in the business 
 thirty years and I m beginning to learn the 
 second lesson. This is one of the times for tell 
 ing the truth. You feel that my heart isn t in 
 your campaign. I will answer you with abso 
 lute sincerity and say it isn t." 
 
 "Thank you," Porter replied; and his eyes 
 showed he meant it. " Now we shall get on. 
 Will you tell me why your heart isn t in it? " 
 
 " That s what I m here for. I ve learned the 
 trade of politics as it is, and I don t like ideal 
 ists and reformers. I believe things in this coun 
 try, in any democratic country, must be done 
 by parties. Discipline and order come first. 
 The old traditions have got to be respected. 
 I don t deny that you re a big man; but I sus 
 pect in some ways you re too big. And I m 
 afraid of you." 
 
 This was said with a smile that seemed 
 kindly and was received with another of the 
 same quality. " Do you know, I m only afraid 
 I m not big enough. But big or little, don t 
 
350 MATTHEW PORTER 
 
 you think an idealist as you say may do 
 his work within party lines? " 
 
 " He may, but I don t trust him. He s glad 
 enough to at first. Nobody talks party more 
 earnestly than he, till he s booted and spurred 
 and well in the saddle. Then you come to a 
 rough bit of country, and pf t he shows all 
 his faithful followers a clean pair of heels." 
 
 You are rather figurative in your language, 
 but I think I understand you," answered the 
 leader, again smiling. " I don t hesitate to say, 
 however, that I am as firm a believer in party 
 as you are. I entirely agree that a government 
 like ours can t be run except on party lines. 
 I believe it so thoroughly that I don t complain 
 even when my own party seems to exist as 
 it has done hitherto in Massachusetts only 
 for the sake of giving the other party its own 
 way." 
 
 " Oh, that s all right," answered Hinckley, 
 more imperturbably good-natured than ever. 
 " But I m afraid we don t understand each 
 other quite so well as you think. Or, no, I m 
 sure we do understand each other a great deal 
 better than we say. That second lesson is so 
 hard to learn! Party to you means the grand 
 old principles Jefferson, Jackson, and all 
 that sort of thing. Party to me means a lot 
 of men who have helped you along and want 
 to get something for it. Do I make myself 
 clear? " 
 
 " Perfectly," was the sympathetic reply. 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 351 
 
 " Well, that s where I don t trust you." 
 
 "My gratitude?" 
 
 " We don t say anything about gratitude, you 
 know. The talk is always principle in those 
 cases. A man s principles never prevent him 
 from climbing up; but it s odd how sometimes 
 they make him kick over the ladder he climbed 
 
 on." 
 
 Porter was somewhat graver now, but still 
 the smile had not gone so far but it might come 
 back. " You don t recognize principles in poli 
 tics, Mr. Hinckley? " 
 
 Well, between you and me, and now we re 
 on the second lesson, I don t know that I should 
 shake my friends on principle ; on interest, 
 I might." 
 
 " I m afraid I can t quite follow you those 
 lengths." 
 
 " No, and that s why my heart isn t in your 
 campaign." 
 
 The two men sat quiet and looked at each 
 other for a few seconds. " See here, Hinck 
 ley," began Porter at last. " This is the way 
 it stands. I believe I ve got hold of a big card. 
 If I can play it successfully, I have a future 
 before me and the Democrats of Massachusetts 
 are bound to get a big slice of that future. 
 Now you say you ve been in politics for thirty 
 years, so I assume you re not very much under 
 fifty. I believe in your ability and I believe 
 more in your principles than you seem to. Get 
 me beaten, if you can, and what is there ahead 
 
352 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 of you? Just the same old round of Republican 
 victories and you rolling the same old stone up 
 the same old hill, like Sisyphus of respectable 
 memory. Go in with me, go in whole-hearted, 
 and I don t think you ll regret it." 
 
 Hinckley s smile was no less kindly than 
 hitherto, certainly, but was it any more so? 
 " Sounds well," he answered. " Heaven knows 
 I m sick of that stone-rolling business. But, as 
 I said before, I don t trust you. Take a con 
 crete case." As he spoke, he sat up and put 
 more sharpness into his tone. " There are two 
 of my heelers, Billy Morgan and Jake Ballou. 
 They re good fellows and they ll do anything 
 for me. They re laying off now, because 
 well, I didn t think they were your kind. If I 
 set em to work, they ll do more than any four 
 men you ve got. Now, if you re elected, what 
 will those two get out of it? " 
 
 Porter s smile was back again, as serene as 
 before, but there may have been a trifle of hard 
 ness in it. " Ballou I know little about ; but I 
 don t like the company he keeps. Morgan I do 
 know. I ve watched his work at the State 
 House. I ll tell you what he ought to get, in 
 my opinion, ten years in the penitentiary. 
 Don t you agree with me ? " 
 
 Hinckley s smile became a laugh, as he rose 
 to go. " Oh, if we all got what we ought, " 
 he said. " I don t know that our little talk has 
 helped much. Good morning, Mr. Porter." 
 
 Porter was inclined to think- that the little 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 353 
 
 talk had helped. It seemed to him that under 
 Hinckley s scepticism there was a growing con 
 fidence not enthusiasm, perhaps, that was 
 hardly to be looked for from the chairman s 
 habits and experience; but a feeling that Por 
 ter s future might have something in it, after 
 all. The interview had been useful, too, in con 
 firming Porter s sense of Hinckley s value. He 
 was an old politician, doubtless, thrice hardened 
 in all the tricks of the trade, cynical and in a 
 certain sense perfectly unscrupulous. But it 
 was Porter s theory that such men had become 
 what they were by the vices of the very system 
 he was combating. Open executive responsi 
 bility, free public legislative discussion, would 
 give their intelligence and abilities a far wider 
 chance for development and success; and he 
 believed that, if he could once get his ideas into 
 practical working, Hinckley and those like him 
 would be the first to see the advantage and 
 profit by it. 
 
 All this he explained briefly to Viola, in a 
 conversation they had on Sunday afternoon, 
 adding that he believed not much was required 
 to bring Hinckley into hearty support. 
 
 Viola thought a moment. " What if I talked 
 to him? " she said. 
 
 " You? " 
 j 
 
 Porter s face displayed an amount of disgust 
 unusual for him. " I couldn t have you do that 
 sort of thing," he said. 
 
354 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 "What sort of thing?." 
 
 " Why, everybody knows that Hinckley s one 
 ambition is to get into the top set socially. He s 
 cumbered with a wife who used to be his cook 
 and nobody will have much to do with him. 
 Burke and Dillworthy are close enough to him 
 politically; but Burke would never have him at 
 his house and Dillworthy only when he can t 
 help it. He would do anything literally 
 to come here. But the idea is very unpleas 
 ant to me." 
 
 " Nonsense," was the quiet answer. " There s 
 nothing wrong about it. You say the man is 
 just ready to join us anyway. You say he may 
 be very useful. And I understand that you 
 really begin to have a certain liking for him, 
 haven t you? " 
 
 "Why, yes. I believe, now, that he s more 
 capable of understanding my ideas than any of 
 them, unless Smith, and much more tactful than 
 Smith for carrying them out. But yet that 
 you with your habits and traditions should 
 condescend " 
 
 " It isn t condescension," Viola interrupted, 
 " it s ascension, to be working in any honest way 
 for the cause I m working for. I m not the 
 slave of my habits and traditions never have 
 been. And between ourselves I imagine I had 
 quite as lief have Mrs. Hinckley in my house 
 as Mrs. Burke. Say no more about it, please, 
 till it s done." 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 355 
 
 " Another tabooed subject? " he answered, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Yes," she said, smiling back, with a little 
 embarrassment and, he thought, a little tender 
 ness. " Another, but there are plenty left." 
 And she plunged into some technical point af 
 fecting the next " Democrat " letter. 
 
 Monday morning Hinckley received a note 
 asking if he could find time to call on Miss 
 Buckingham that evening and if not, when he 
 could do so. The first reading of the note made 
 it all clear to him; but none the less the invita 
 tion was agreeable. It was perfectly true that 
 his dearest ambitions were social rather than 
 political. He was a man of keen wit and ready 
 discourse, naturally gay, sensitive, emotional, 
 eminently alive to the charm of women s com 
 pany and women s talk. Every hour of the day 
 he cursed his marriage, which had cut him off 
 from these things, and nearly every hour the 
 unhappy partner of it, audibly. And he not 
 only wanted society, he wanted the best. The 
 Burkes and Dillworthys would not have satis 
 fied him, if he could have had them. He wanted 
 real refinement, real cultivation, real charm. 
 He wanted Viola and her set nothing else. 
 Perhaps nothing had impressed him more with 
 a sense of Porter s power than the fact that he 
 had made his way into that set and established 
 himself there. 
 
 Now the doors opened wide of their own ac- 
 
356 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 cord. It was for no merit or personal charm 
 of his own. He understood that well enough 
 or thought he did. It was a clear case of 
 corruption, an attempt to sap his old Roman 
 civic virtue by the soft grace of feminine cajol 
 ery. He could not tell at first how it would 
 please him to take it. His sweetest satisfaction 
 might be to stand rock-like, immovable, and let 
 the cooing waves of seduction break over him 
 with perfect ineffectiveness. Or he might 
 
 A little after eight o clock he found himself 
 in Viola s reception-room, alone with her; and 
 one glance at her royal figure in its dark brown 
 satin, at her grave and lofty face, showed his 
 quick sensibility that here was no cheap device 
 of social cunning, no vulgar elaboration of femi 
 nine artifice, such as he himself had so often 
 made use of against others. A strange excite 
 ment possessed him to think that a woman like 
 this should have condescended from her sphere 
 sufficiently to care whether a man of his stamp 
 was working on one side or on the other. 
 
 Viola approached her subject at once. " Mr. 
 Hinckley, I am very much interested in Mr. 
 Porter s campaign. I have become an enthusi 
 astic convert to his ideas and I want to see him 
 in a position to carry them out. Now he tells 
 me that you believe in frankness, when the occa 
 sion calls for it. Will you be frank with me? " 
 
 4 1 will try," was the quiet answer, and Viola 
 liked the tone of it and felt that if the man was 
 seeking social success, he had tact enough not 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 357 
 
 to be vulgar, or fawning, or presumptuous, in 
 his quest. 
 
 " Thank you. Tell me first, then, whether 
 you really believe in Mr. Porter and are doing 
 all you can for him." 
 
 Hinckley laughed, a very courteous, sympa 
 thetic laugh. " You propose to put my frank 
 ness to the test, don t you? But it will stand 
 it and I tell you at once that I haven t made 
 up my mind about Porter. Three months ago 
 I should have said he was just such a mushroom 
 as I have seen dozens of in my career, shooting 
 up in a night nearly to the tree-tops and gone 
 the next night. I don t feel quite so sure now." 
 
 Viola followed his deliberate speech with the 
 most watchful attention. " Exactly," she said. 
 " The more you see of him, the less sure you 
 will be. There s nothing of the mushroom about 
 him. Did you never notice that there s a certain 
 stage in the building of a house when it seems 
 to go up all at once? But that is only seeming. 
 The part of the work that counts is the slow 
 laying of the foundation before and the careful 
 finish after. Mr. Porter s movement of reform 
 is just now at that stage of conspicuous growth. 
 But it has a long foundation of slow thought 
 behind it and will have a full period of develop 
 ment in the final working out." 
 
 Hinckley observed at once that she was care 
 ful to speak of the ideas and not the man. 
 Nevertheless he suspected that her heart was 
 more full of the man than of the ideas. It 
 
358 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 somewhat increased his envy of her hero, but 
 it increased his respect far more. Nothing of 
 this went into his speech, however. You ll 
 think me very old-fashioned," he said, " but 
 long experience has made me suspicious of all 
 this talk about reform. Either the reformer 
 is looking to nothing but his own pocket 
 which I consider out of the question in Porter s 
 case, or he wants everything his own way and 
 is utterly impatient of party discipline. Now 
 I myself believe in parties. But probably that 
 is too technical a view for a lady." 
 
 Viola answered with decision, but without the 
 least impatience. " Don t think of me as a 
 lady, please. During the last six months I ve 
 given all my thoughts to the technicalities of 
 .politics and the more technical they are, the 
 more they interest me, I think everybody who 
 has considered the subject will agree with you 
 about the importance of parties. Nothing can 
 be done without them. At the same time a 
 great man will always be larger than his party, 
 will strain and stretch it till the seams crack 
 open. Only if he is a really great man, he will 
 take his party with him. It will groan and 
 grumble, but it will follow. It will grow slowly 
 to his ideas, but it will grow to them. Now I 
 believe, and I think you believe, in your heart of 
 hearts, Mr. Hinckley, that Mr. Porter is a 
 really great man. He has the magnetism which 
 draws men and draws votes. More than that, 
 he has a project which he is convinced will do 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 359 
 
 more to make popular government in this coun 
 try clean, strong, and effective, than anything 
 that has ever yet been tried. If he succeeds, he 
 will give his party a prestige that it hasn t had 
 for nearly a century. And surely if the Democ 
 racy of Massachusetts we won t say anything 
 about the United States ever needed such a 
 man and such an idea, it does now. Isn t it 
 better to take the chance of a few vagaries, a 
 little waywardness mind, I don t believe there 
 is any such chance but wouldn t it be better 
 to take it, if there were, and win and do a great 
 work for the party and the country both, than 
 to go on playing an idle game in which the 
 Republicans have all the dice loaded? " 
 
 She paused a moment. Then, as she could 
 see he was listening to her with all his ears 
 and eyes, although he made no answer, she 
 went on. " But, of course, the first thing for 
 Mr. Porter to do is to get the party together, 
 to unite all the different elements in earnest, 
 loyal support of him and his ideas. It s only 
 so that we can make a strong, united, irresistible 
 fight against the Republicans. Now, Mr. 
 Hinckley, why don t you come to us unre 
 servedly? Take sides with Mr. Porter for good 
 or evil. Make his idea your idea, his victory 
 your victory. If we lose, you re no worse off 
 than now. If we win and we shall win you 
 win with us and open for yourself a future of 
 real usefulness, real activity, real success. Apart 
 from Mr. Porter, where is your future?" 
 
360 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Through the noble restraint, the quiet dig 
 nity which she always kept about her like a 
 queenly garment, there shone and throbbed such 
 a fiery exultation, such a rapturous prophecy of 
 approaching triumph as would have moved 
 stolider nerves than she had now to deal with, 
 and it was a moment before Hinckley could 
 command himself to answer in as calm a tone 
 as he wished. 
 
 " You have only told me in larger fashion 
 what I have for some time been telling my 
 self," he said at length. " But I am old, Miss 
 Buckingham, and crusted all over, like a bar 
 nacled rock, with the sharp tricks of my trade. 
 At fifty a man like me has one fear that is more 
 than almost any other fear, the fear of being 
 fooled. I ve seen so many pretty ships go down, 
 I ve opened so many whited sepulchres and 
 found them full of rottenness, I ve probed so 
 many human hearts and turned up nothing but 
 lies, tricks, greed, selfishness, cruelty how can 
 you expect me to believe in anybody or any 
 thing? I am amazed that you have the power 
 to make me sit here and talk as if it were possi 
 ble." 
 
 "And why is it?" she interrupted earnestly. 
 " Because I speak to you as if there were some 
 thing in your heart and mine besides lies and 
 rottenness. You ve probed the wrong hearts, 
 opened the showy sepulchres, watched only the 
 ships that were gay, not those that were stout 
 and seaworthy. It s the broad experience that 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 361 
 
 you have, call it, if you like, cynical, that will 
 make you of use to us; for nobody can govern 
 the world without fit arms to battle with its 
 tricks and lies. But I say to you fairly, Mr. 
 Hinckley, that I should not have asked you to 
 come here if I had believed you to be a mere 
 time-serving, tricky, unscrupulous politician and 
 nothing more. Mr. Porter told me in so many 
 words that he thought you more capable of 
 understanding his ideas and more tactful for 
 carrying them out than any man he knew. He 
 believes that men of your stamp become machine 
 politicians simply because our system does not 
 allow them to become anything else. His sys 
 tem would encourage them, would compel them 
 to be something else. He wants you to help 
 him try it. Will you? " 
 
 " Did Porter say that of me? " asked Hinck 
 ley, in a low, toneless voice. " If you say so, 
 I believe he did. I don t think you are making 
 a fool of me nor he." 
 
 There was a long pause. Hinckley looked 
 down at the carpet, absorbed in thought. Viola 
 looked at him. " Miss Buckingham," he said 
 finally, " it s a good deal of a decision to make, 
 but I have made it now, once for all. I shall 
 work for Porter after this honestly. I won t 
 pretend there s a great deal of unselfishness 
 about it, you know. You re quite right in say 
 ing that I don t see much before me in any 
 other direction. I ve been coming gradually to 
 believe that Porter is a big man, and now I ve 
 
362 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 seen the enthusiasm he s been able to inspire in 
 a woman like you, I believe it more than ever. 
 I can t change my nature, but I mean what I 
 say. I shall work for Porter after this 
 honestly to the best of my ability." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 FLITTERS had persuaded Viola to give a 
 masquerade party on the last Friday evening 
 but one before the election. " We must divert 
 our minds from politics," he said. " And the 
 only way to divert a woman s mind is to give 
 her a costume to think about." 
 
 So the maskers gathered as thick as a flock 
 of autumn blackbirds in a field of corn, as thick 
 and as noisy, but by no means so uniform in 
 colouring. Now and then there was black: 
 Viola herself, who, as hostess, wore no mask, 
 was dressed in black velvet, full Elizabethan 
 costume, with a ruff and stomacher that would 
 not have displeased the Virgin Queen. But all 
 about her were colours infinite, green, gold, and 
 azure, scarlet, rose, and sombre purple, the long 
 wave of white plumes, the flash of jewels, a 
 subtle, strange, bewildering maze of sudden 
 lights and gleaming shadows. 
 
 And every one waltzed in one inextricable 
 whirl of discordant shapes and ill-assorted hues, 
 couple after couple uniting contrasts beyond the 
 wildest dreams of fevered fancy, a haughty 
 Spanish cavalier with a trained nurse, a nautch- 
 girl with a cowboy, a grinning satyr with a 
 
 363 
 
364 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Puritan maiden, an oozy sea god with a humble 
 daughter of the Salvation Army, all whirled 
 and whirled, like a top whipped again and again 
 by the long, writhing lash of the voluptuous 
 music. 
 
 Viola herself swung slowly round for a little 
 while with a clown whose motion was as light 
 and as largely rhythmical as her own. But she 
 was more intent on hospitable duties than on 
 dancing. 
 
 " George," she said, " I can t quite make them 
 all out. Can you? " 
 
 "Nearly all. Enough." 
 
 " The astrologer? " 
 
 " Hinckley." 
 
 " Good. He came then. And Mrs. Hinck 
 ley? " 
 
 " Not here, I should say." 
 
 " Ah, I m sorry. Yet perhaps this isn t quite 
 the occasion." 
 
 " Not quite." 
 
 Another planetary revolution and Viola asked 
 again: "The witch?" 
 
 " Constance." 
 
 " I was afraid so, though I don t know who 
 invited her. She won t make a scene, will she? " 
 
 " About me? I ask you, could any one make 
 a scene about me? " 
 
 You are just the kind to make a scene 
 about and she the kind to make one." 
 
 "What can I do?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 365 
 
 " Just so. And she will do the same. What 
 a pity Porter couldn t come!" 
 
 " I hope he will for a little while later. His 
 Cambridge speech ought to be over by ten. 
 George, those street musicians, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Ruth and Eugene. I fancy that will come 
 to something to-night." 
 
 " I don t like it, George." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I don t think it s suitable." 
 
 " Oh, Lord, is marriage ever suitable un 
 less yours and Porter s might be. I stirred 
 Eugene up to it myself. He was talking to me 
 this afternoon, said he had been wild to speak 
 to her ever since they got back to town. I said, 
 * Why don t you? He said, I m not fit to kiss 
 her shoes. I said, * It isn t necessary. You re 
 a genius a wandering voice. He said, * But 
 the rest of me ? I said, That s very true ; but 
 with her the rest of you doesn t count. She 
 lives in her imagination and always will. Apart 
 from your music you re a commonplace crea 
 ture; but so are all musicians, and so is she. In 
 the music world you re getting to be a big thing 
 since " Mosquitos " : engagements to play in 
 concerts everywhere, stories in the newspapers, 
 jealousy from all the other " artists," fools 
 tumbling over each other to take lessons of you. 
 You re it going to be very much itter 
 she ll fall into your arms. 
 
 So she was doing, as much, at least, as she 
 could, in that company. Eugene had come de- 
 
366 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 termined to speak and Ruth determined, so far 
 as was consistent with her unquestioned maiden- 
 liness, to give him the opportunity, which she 
 knew perfectly well he had long been seeking. 
 He certainly had not intended to mix love and 
 waltzes, but the words were so ready, her ear, 
 her round, pink, delicious ear, so close to his lips, 
 that love flowed into it, as from a vase overfull. 
 " I love you, Ruth, I love you, I love you, I love 
 you." His arm pressed her perhaps more closely 
 than beseems decorous dancing; but her hand 
 returned the pressure of his, and they danced 
 on, on, under the quivering spell of the rich 
 waltz music, as if there were nothing but them 
 selves, and their motion, and their love in the 
 whole wide world. 
 
 Wingate, appropriately arrayed in the thou- 
 sand-tongued surcoat of Rumour, discontentedly 
 divined their measureless content and murmured 
 his complaints to Viola, who had sent Flitters 
 away from her on some errand of mercy. 
 
 "Do you think she will marry him?" Win- 
 gate asked. 
 
 " I think so, fear so," Viola answered, sympa 
 thetic, yet anxious not to encourage false hopes. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly, 
 yet with vast suggestion of the inconsequent 
 possibilities of amorous folly. Then she changed 
 the subject. " Has anything been heard from 
 Governor Powers? " 
 
 Governor Powers was an ancient Republican 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 367 
 
 who was known to be much dissatisfied with his 
 party s course both in national and state affairs. 
 The Porterites nourished not unfounded hopes 
 that he would come out on their side. If he did 
 so, his influence would be most important. 
 
 Wingate was not interested in Governor 
 Powers just then; but he had to answer. 
 " Powers? Oh, yes. Nothing definite as yet. 
 We sent a reporter to him this afternoon, and 
 I told them to call me up, if they heard any 
 thing." 
 
 " It would be a great help, if he would come 
 out squarely and strongly, wouldn t it? " 
 
 " Five thousand votes, I should say, at least." 
 
 Meanwhile the clown had discovered Flora 
 disguised as Flora, with charming intentional 
 infelicity. She of course also knew him; but 
 each was careful to pretend absolute ignorance 
 of the other s identity. It was gayer so. 
 
 " O goddess of freshness and verdure," said 
 the clown, " up-stairs there are palms, rare or 
 chids, ferns, soft moss, blossoms without end, 
 fountains murmuring, quaint, strange nooks of 
 woodland witchery. You belong up there, not 
 in this hurly-burly of light and dust and odious 
 mortality. Will you come?" 
 
 She nodded and followed him up the wide 
 stairs into the great parlour, which, as he said, 
 had been filled with flowers and dim shapes of 
 greenness. At the moment the room was unoc 
 cupied and they seated themselves in a quiet 
 
368 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 nook, on a rustic bench, with a little fountain 
 plashing close beside them. 
 
 " I wish I knew who you were," said the 
 clown, gazing abstractedly at his companion s 
 mask. 
 
 " So do I," agreed the goddess with fervour. 
 "Who does, in this bewildering world? What 
 is it to be I or you? " 
 
 But the clown had no taste for metaphysics. 
 " You might be Flora Chantrey, I should think ; 
 but she is too intelligent to disguise herself so 
 obviously." 
 
 " Of course she is. Just as you might be 
 Flitters; only it would be no disguise for him 
 to be a clown." 
 
 The fountain murmured. The music down 
 stairs flared and crashed. The witch Constance, 
 unheard in the crash of it, had slipped behind 
 a palm and was listening with all her soul. 
 
 " I have sometimes thought that Flora and 
 Flitters might make a match," the clown sug 
 gested, taking a rosebud from the goddess s 
 basket and picking it to pieces. 
 
 " A love match? Have you? " 
 
 " What other kind of match? " 
 
 " Can either of them love? Can one love and 
 laugh too? " 
 
 " The best kind of love, I think. The other 
 kind flames and burns out. But that which 
 has the golden threads of laughter woven all 
 through it gets the permanence of laughter, its 
 immortal sunshine." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 369 
 
 " Flitters would hardly speak so seriously of 
 laughter," suggested the flowery deity. 
 
 " Flitters can be more serious than the seri 
 ous when it befits," was the gentle reply. 
 
 Again there was no sound but the plash of 
 the water and the wild waltz music. 
 
 " You are a goddess," began the clown once 
 more, " and know women s thoughts. Would 
 Flora marry Flitters, in spite of his fantastic 
 foolery? May I tell him so? " 
 
 " Are you commissioned to speak for him? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "If she married him it would be because 
 of his foolery. Tell him tell him Oh, we ll 
 say if Mr. Porter is elected perhaps she ll 
 consider it. Chance should rule these matters." 
 
 But the witch burst out upon them now, red, 
 fiery, furious. " I ve heard it all," she cried. 
 What fools you make of each other. And 
 what a fool you let him make of you, Flora 
 Chantrey. Do you suppose he ever cared for 
 any one or wanted anything but a subject for 
 his foolish jokes? Jokes! Jokes! Always jokes! 
 Is life a joke? Is love a joke? I haven t found 
 it so. And you won t either always." 
 
 She stood before them, raising her arms in 
 admirably, though unintentionally witchlike ges 
 ticulation, hissing her words through her mask, 
 like the hiss of serpents. The two doubted 
 whether to laugh or weep, longed for some de 
 vice to quiet her, but knew not how. 
 
 Just then Viola appeared, having come in 
 
370 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 search of Flitters, and heard Constance s last 
 sentence or two. " Constance," she began im 
 ploringly, " Constance." 
 
 But the witch was worked into all the fury 
 of a dull person completely thrown off her bal 
 ance, who has brooded on herself and her 
 wrongs till she can think of nothing else. She 
 turned on Viola. " You re as bad as they are," 
 she cried, " worse. You encourage them in all 
 their folly, their cruel jokes, cruel, cruel. It is 
 you who brought me here, who put me in his 
 way, helped him play all his cruel tricks on me, 
 cruel, cruel. But I ll be even with you, I know 
 your secret. I know well enough that he writes 
 those Democrat letters. Why haven t they 
 been smart enough to see it? Who else could 
 write them? But they shall know it now. I ll 
 tell them. And I guess people won t read them 
 so much, when they find they re written by 
 somebody who cares no more for Porter than 
 he does for me or for Flora Chantrey or for 
 anything but his jokes. Oh, yes, I m going 
 now," she said to Viola, who was vainly trying 
 to soothe her. " I m going now. I ve said all 
 I ve got to say. I never want to see any of you 
 again." 
 
 She turned and hurried off, Viola following 
 in a vain attempt at pacification. Flora and 
 Flitters eyed each other through their masks, 
 stonily, in dumb amazement. 
 
 " I told you," said Flora. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 371 
 
 " Oh, yes, you told me. I don t know that 
 that helps it much. Was I to blame, Flora? " 
 
 " Certainly not. What else could you have 
 done, being what you are? But those Demo 
 crat letters will she tell? Did you write 
 them?" 
 
 "Write them? No. How absurd! Why 
 should I care what she does? " 
 
 She had never seen him so moved and he had 
 never known in her before anything of the gen 
 tleness with which she reassured and comforted 
 him. It was terribly unfortunate, but of course 
 he was not to blame. It was all Constance s 
 unreasonable folly. And thus in their love some 
 strands of soberer feeling came to mingle with 
 the tissue of laughter which had hitherto per 
 haps been rather glittering than substantial. 
 
 All that Viola could accomplish with Con 
 stance was to get her safely out of the house 
 with as little demonstration as possible. When 
 this was done, the hostess returned to have some 
 explanation with her cousin and to say a judi 
 cious word or two to such friends as would be 
 most useful in allaying vulgar curiosity. She 
 had not had time to carry out this intention 
 fully, however, when she was told that a visitor 
 was inquiring for her in the hall. 
 
 What visitor? Going out as soon as she 
 could, whom should she find but Clara Porter, 
 dress suit case in hand, waiting quietly amid the 
 kaleidoscopic passage of masked figures in all 
 
372 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 the colours of the rainbow, who must have 
 seemed to her like the weird phantasmagoria 
 of a fevered dream. 
 
 The whole evening was beginning to seem 
 such to Viola. She had long been planning a 
 visit from Miss Porter, but had thought it was 
 postponed until a week later. Nevertheless her 
 manner was the perfection of cordiality. " Dear 
 Miss Porter, isn t this delightful! You won t 
 mind our frivolities, will you? " 
 
 " I m afraid I misunderstood and you weren t 
 expecting me," answered the quiet lady in black. 
 " I had not expected to come, until this after 
 noon. Then I reread your letter and thought 
 you must have meant to-day. So I took the 
 evening train and there was an accident which 
 delayed us for nearly two hours. It was all 
 very stupid." 
 
 Viola was entirely herself now. :< Why 
 should you explain or apologize? The only 
 thing of importance is that you are here and 
 I am so glad. Come right up-stairs first and 
 make yourself at home." 
 
 "But I can t take you away from your 
 guests." 
 
 " Nonsense. My guests can get along very 
 well without me for a few moments. George, be 
 host for me." 
 
 She accompanied her visitor to her room and 
 chatted with her, while she removed her wraps. 
 You ll come down-stairs now for a time, 
 at any rate, won t you? " Viola asked. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 373 
 
 Miss Porter would have greatly preferred to 
 stay by herself and said so, alleging her utterly 
 unsuitable garb; but she could not resist Viola s 
 gentle solicitation. " Of course I can explain 
 just how you came. It will amuse you, I am 
 sure," she urged. " And then your brother will 
 be in by and by. I should like you to see how 
 much they all think of him." 
 
 So the two went down again to the music- 
 room. When they arrived, Flitters was just 
 making a speech. The reaction from the shock 
 of Constance s outbreak seemed to have made 
 him more gay, more eager, more petulant, than 
 ever. At the first pause in the dancing, after 
 Viola s departure, he mounted a chair, pro 
 claimed the absence of the hostess, and an 
 nounced his intention of taking her place and 
 addressing the company on the subject which 
 at the moment was uppermost in the minds of 
 all. " I planned this party," he said, " to give 
 us diversion from politics. But evidently it was 
 useless. You talk of nothing else. I see a red 
 Indian and a ballet girl get together in a corner 
 and I know they are discussing, not love, but 
 Porter s chances. An astrologer confers with a 
 Greek god, not about the mysterious motions of 
 the stars, but about the more mysterious mental 
 processes of ex -Governor Powers. So, on the 
 whole, I think it best to speak out. If you must 
 have politics, I ll give you enough of them." 
 
 Then he proceeded to adduce a dozen ironical 
 reasons why the present company should vote 
 
374 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 for Porter and rejoice in his election. In the 
 full tide of his oratory, he saw the quiet black 
 figure of Miss Porter enter the room at Viola s 
 side; but this only stirred him to redoubled 
 eloquence. 
 
 " Yes, the new governor is supremely intel 
 ligent, we all know that, and that makes me 
 confident that he will succeed, in spite of his 
 present undeniable honesty. Only the dull are 
 honest in politics. The keen-witted see soon 
 enough where their advantage lies. They see 
 that it is impossible to get on in this free and 
 noble country without fraud and corruption. 
 They see that the mob is ruled by bribery in 
 the gross and the rich by bribery in detail, and 
 both by abject flattery; and they bribe and 
 flatter. So will Porter in time, and succeed, 
 and we shall profit. 
 
 " Another excellence : as we all know, the 
 governor totally lacks the sense of humour. I 
 couldn t honestly vote for him if he had it. 
 I should regard his future as hopeless. No 
 American politician can really succeed with a 
 sense of humour. The lying, the fawning, the 
 stealing, why, even the mere hand-shaking, can 
 not possibly be done with the proper gravity, if 
 a man sees the comedy of it all. 
 
 " And the best is that Governor Porter will 
 provide so much comedy for those who appre 
 ciate it. He is a reformer. Think of the mass 
 of absurdity that huddles in the word. When 
 the great comic dramatist of heaven is minded 
 
JttATTHEW SORTER 375 
 
 to crowd this earthly stage most fully with 
 Aristophanic pleasantry, he takes some hyper- 
 solemn and serious puppet and fills him with 
 the swelling raptures of reform. And the Phil 
 istine stands open-eyed and open-mouthed in 
 horror, and good conservative philanthropists 
 rail, and political sneak thieves ply their trade 
 in redoubled security, and the wise smile sadly. 
 Reform! Reform! More lives have been sacri 
 ficed, more good, sober, ordinary men and 
 women shut up in madhouses, more sanctuaries 
 profaned and more profanity sanctified in the 
 name of Reform, than of all other fantastic, 
 imperious, nautical, and juggernautical deities 
 put together. Ladies and gentlemen, I call 
 upon every mother s son and daughter of you 
 to vote, as I shall, for Porter and Reform. 
 Band, play us America and we ll all sing," 
 
 When the- singing was over, Viola, having 
 given Miss Porter in charge to Wingate, found 
 her cousin. " George, will you ask them all to 
 go up to the supper-room and to unmask as 
 soon as they get there? And, George, I hope 
 you ll apologize to Miss Porter for your tirade. 
 And, George, was it, anyway, very discreet of 
 you, after the events of the evening? " 
 
 " Discreet? No. Do you expect me to be 
 discreet? I m depressed very." 
 
 " It hath not appeared." 
 
 " Of course not. I am determined it sha n t. 
 But discreet! The more depressed I am, the 
 less discreet. By the way," in a hurried whis- 
 
376 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 per, " who does write those Democrat letters, 
 Viola? " 
 
 "Hush! I do." 
 
 " I thought so. But I won t mention it." 
 
 " I knew you wouldn t." 
 
 In the supper-room Flitters devoted himself, 
 as directed, to apologizing to Miss Porter. " I 
 hope you didn t mind my nonsense," he said. 
 " I worship your brother." 
 
 The white-haired lady smiled her simple, 
 saintly smile. " Is everything you say to be 
 interpreted by contraries?" 
 
 " Not what I say in private. My public ut 
 terances have exactly the same value as those of 
 everybody else except your brother." 
 
 " Now I think of it, didn t my brother tell 
 me that you rendered him a great service just 
 before the convention? " 
 
 " Did he tell you so? That was unlike a 
 public character, wasn t it? To remember 
 and mention that any one had done him a 
 great service? " 
 
 " I m afraid you re inclined to be cynical, Mr. 
 Buckingham." 
 
 " No, no, not a bit of it. Only I m one of 
 those who render great services and never re 
 ceive them. That disposes one to be cynical, 
 don t you think?" 
 
 " I don t know," was the quiet answer. " I 
 can t speak from experience." 
 
 " Of course not. Of course not. Tell me 
 your impression of all this, Miss Porter." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 377 
 
 "My impression? Your inquiry is a little 
 abrupt. I think it is all very pretty and 
 very bewildering." 
 
 " Just so. You are a saint, aren t you? " 
 Miss Porter laughed at the renewed abrupt 
 ness, but did not seem to dislike it. :< What 
 makes you think that? " 
 
 " What makes you think that I m a sinner? " 
 " I imagine you want me to think so." 
 " And don t you want me to think you re a 
 saint really now way down in the bottom 
 of your heart? I can understand it, oh, yes, I 
 understand it. I have so often thought I 
 should like to be a saint myself. And I may 
 yet. White, white, white sanctity has such a 
 charm. But then, so has the red, red rose of sin, 
 hasn t it? And it is so utterly impossible to 
 blend the two. And, after all, perhaps one 
 sucks the sweet of life best by continuing to be 
 a sinner and all the time wishing to be a saint. 
 Or do you think the other way round is more 
 satisfactory? Aren t you simply ravished with 
 the quality of these ethical speculations? I feel 
 just in the mood for them to-night. I ve had 
 a great shock." 
 
 But Viola, who mistrusted her cousin s apolo 
 gies, had brought up Miss Tucker, fatly habited 
 as Queen Victoria, and Flitters slipped away to 
 carry on his ethical communings by himself. 
 For a few moments he did this, sunk in a sofa 
 corner behind curtains in a deep window recess, 
 his face buried in his hands, as if the sound of 
 
378 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 Constance s fierce outbreak was still ringing 
 through his brain, drowning all the pleasant 
 whirr of gaiety about him. Then, springing 
 up and making a hasty gesture as of brushing 
 cobwebs from his forehead, he wandered over to 
 Astrologer Hinckley, who happened to be 
 standing alone and looking rather at a loss. 
 
 " Good evening, Mr. Hinckley. I m charmed 
 to see you here." 
 
 The two had met once or twice in the course 
 of the summer s politics and Hinckley knew the 
 other well by reputation. The pleasure is re 
 ciprocal," answered the chairman cordially. 
 
 " You wouldn t think a clown like myself 
 would have been just the one to disconcert all 
 your well-laid schemes this summer, would 
 
 you?; 
 
 Hinckley stared. 
 
 " I did it. I first smelled out Warren s 
 treachery and told Porter. A pretty piece of 
 work, wasn t it? And doesn t seem like a fool s." 
 
 " It seems more like a " the astrologer 
 began. Then he stopped. 
 
 " Just so. It seems more like a fool to tell 
 of it, doesn t it? That s just the way I am. If 
 I could do the things for myself and then not 
 tell of them, I should be the governor and 
 Porter the fool; for, between ourselves, my in 
 telligence is worth a dozen of his. But what 
 would you have? And then, to tell the truth, 
 Hinckley, I d rather be what I am, and throb 
 and quiver every moment with the joy of life, 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 379 
 
 flit in and flit out of golden worlds like this and 
 suck all the honeyed sweetness of them, than be 
 a governor or even chairman of a state Demo 
 cratic committee. Don t you find that years 
 spent in buying votes for other people, in 
 lobbying dirty bills through dirtier legislatures, 
 in pulling fools up and kicking other fools 
 down, unfits one for enjoying one s self? " 
 
 " I do, God knows I do." At that moment, 
 looking at the gay, careless flight of pretty 
 women about him, not one of whom but thought 
 a politician beneath contempt, the chairman felt 
 his answer to be the sincerest of his life. And 
 probably there was not a person there who could 
 better enter into and appreciate Flitters s view 
 of things than he. 
 
 " I divined it," cried the delighted clown. 
 " You are like Calchas in La Belle Helene: Si 
 j avais suivi ma vocation, j aurais ete homme de 
 plaisir. We are born companions, Hinckley. 
 Let me teach you to enjoy yourself." 
 
 But the astrologer sighed. " Too late," he 
 murmured, " too late." 
 
 In the window recess corresponding to the 
 one where Flitters had taken refuge Wingate 
 had seated Ruth and thither he brought supper 
 for her and for himself. They had danced the 
 preceding waltz together, and Ruth, exuberant 
 with her new-found joy, had treated her part 
 ner with a gentleness that deceived him. " She 
 cannot care for that oaf, McCarthy," he thought. 
 " At least, I must find out whether she cares 
 
380 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 or not." So, as they ate together, he was very 
 silent, wondering in what way best to ask his 
 question. 
 
 But Ruth felt it absolutely necessary that the 
 question she read it in his eyes, in the very 
 gesture with which he handed her a plate of 
 salad should not be asked. " Mr. Wingate," 
 she said, " you will keep my secret, won t you? 
 I feel that I must tell it you. I am engaged 
 to Eugene. I am so happy." 
 
 Oh, certainly, he would keep her secret, and 
 he was very glad she was happy and hoped she 
 would be so always, and, in saying it, he tried 
 to keep out the suggestion that he hoped she 
 would not. He did not succeed; but she pitied 
 and forgave. Only it is doubtful whether either 
 of them got much pleasure from the remainder 
 of that supper. 
 
 When the company returned to the lower 
 floors, they found Porter and Burke just ar 
 rived. 
 
 " He ought to go home to bed," said Burke 
 to the hostess, " speaking every night and at 
 tending to correspondence half the day. He is 
 made of iron." 
 
 But Porter laughed. " There is no anxiety 
 now," he said. " Only fun. Wait till I am gov 
 ernor." And indeed it was impossible not to 
 wonder at his serenity and evident health. He 
 ate and slept as he had always done and seemed 
 as fresh at midnight as in the morning. 
 
 When the dancers fell to work again, Porter 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 381 
 
 and Hinckley began chatting together and 
 Hinckley called over Wingate, who at present 
 had but one desire, to find some decent excuse 
 for getting away. 
 
 " Nothing more definite as yet from Pow 
 ers?" Porter asked. 
 
 " Nothing as yet." 
 
 " I heard on very good authority this after 
 noon," went on the candidate, " that he had 
 finally made up his mind and was coming out 
 against us." 
 
 " I can t believe it," Wingate objected. 
 
 " I m afraid I do." 
 
 4 Well, I sent one of our best men for an 
 interview this afternoon. He was to call me up 
 here. I don t know why he hasn t." 
 
 The talk was going on with increasing eager 
 ness; but Flitters interrupted. " This is intol 
 erable," he said. " Every politician who comes 
 here dances, unless he prefers to sing a song. 
 Hinckley, will you sing a song? No? Then 
 come and ask your hostess to dance. Porter, 
 there s Flora waiting for you. Wingate, Win- 
 gate- 
 
 The others obeyed, but Wingate timidly an 
 nounced his intention of departing, and Flitters, 
 after looking at him for a second, guessed why. 
 " All right, old man," he said. " And won t 
 you telephone to the office to call me up, if 
 there s anything from Powers?" 
 
 " I will" 
 
 Then Flitters returned to his flock and set 
 
382 WCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 them all whirling more wildly than ever. Por 
 ter s announcement about Powers had somehow 
 circulated and at first brought a slight depres 
 sion with it. But Flitters s merriment banished 
 this before long. He danced first with one girl, 
 then with another. He initiated intricate square 
 dances and wandering reels. When no one 
 could stand any longer, he led wild choruses 
 that refreshed drooping spirits and reanimated 
 sinking limbs. Those who knew him best had 
 never before seen him in quite such a mood of 
 irresistible, infectious, faunlike gaiety. 
 
 Suddenly, however, at the end of one of the 
 wildest reels, he checked them all. " Let s go 
 home before we are exhausted," he said. " Pick 
 the rose before it withers. Break the flask be 
 fore it comes to the last drop. If only we could 
 treat life in the same way. And for those of a 
 more earthly disposition, who have been unable 
 altogether, even in this atmosphere, to shake off 
 the low preoccupation of ephemeral cares, I may 
 perhaps mention that I have just received a tele 
 phone message from Wingate. He says that 
 the Intelligencer will print to-morrow a long 
 interview with ex-Governor Powers, who an 
 nounces that although he remains a Republican 
 on national issues, he believes heartily in Por 
 ter s ideas of state politics and in the man 
 Porter himself and will turn in his vote on the 
 sixth of November for Porter and Burke. Now 
 then, three times three for ex-Governor Powers, 
 and good night." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 383 
 
 They cheered and went. 
 
 " I hope you aren t irrecoverably shocked and 
 disgusted at such a frivolous world," said Viola 
 to Miss Porter, as she accompanied her to her 
 room. 
 
 " It isn t just the world I am used to," an 
 swered the quiet lady. " But it may do me all 
 the more good. Surely your cousin is a very 
 remarkable person." 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 So the campaign went merrily on. Hinck- 
 ley s genuine acceptance of Porter s leadership 
 showed itself in a distinct quickening of activity 
 on the Democratic side. Newspaper editorials, 
 newspaper appeals, newspaper advertisements, 
 advertisements of every kind, answered each 
 other in hot volleys, full of sound and fury, oc 
 casionally signifying something. Speakers on 
 both sides spoke everywhere: for the Democrats 
 Porter himself untiringly, Burke, Smith, many 
 others who had become interested now they 
 found that something was really going on; for 
 the Republicans Heath, Burgess (candidate for 
 lieutenant-governor), the two senators, and con 
 gressmen innumerable. 
 
 A day or two after the masquerade Hinckley 
 had a little talk with Porter on the subject of 
 money. 
 
 " The Republicans are using their dollars 
 freely," remarked the chairman. 
 
 " Buying votes you mean? " 
 
 " It s early to buy many votes right out. 
 But they will buy them." 
 
 You can t do that very widely in Massachu 
 setts," Porter objected. 
 
 384 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 385 
 
 " Bless you, yes you can," answered the other, 
 with the air of a man who knew. 
 
 " Hinckley," continued the leader seriously, 
 " that is something I won t have. Spend all 
 the money you like, and can get, legitimately - 
 on advertising, printing, rallying, what you 
 please. But I won t have a vote bought for 
 
 me." 
 
 The chairman bowed his head with unwonted 
 submission. " Well," he sighed, " I believe we 
 can beat them without. They wouldn t try it, 
 if they weren t absolutely desperate." 
 
 It was long since a purely state campaign 
 had excited so much interest. Men lost their 
 tempers at the clubs discussing whether Porter s 
 ideas were mere moonshine, a painted hobby 
 horse trimmed conveniently for riding into of 
 fice, good afterwards for nothing but the rub 
 bish heap, or whether he would really attempt 
 to carry them out in the face of indifferent sup 
 porters and defiant opponents. Old-fashioned 
 Republicans abused him as a disturber of the 
 peace, incapable of appreciating the good things 
 that are, a radical, hot with his own insane rhet 
 oric, a turbulent demagogue, dangerous as 
 nitro-gylcerine, to be heroically voted down by 
 all citizens who loved their country. Progress 
 ive Democrats laughed, said that " the good 
 things that are " went too exclusively into Re 
 publican mouths and pockets, that Porter was 
 not only honest and patriotic in intention, but 
 a man with a grip who would take hold in the 
 
386 MATTHEW PORTER 
 
 right way at the right time and give the state 
 the thorough cleaning up it needed after so 
 many years of Republican corrupt domination. 
 Citizens who loved their country would surely 
 vote for him, urged the Democratic orators. 
 Thus it will be seen that the citizen who loved 
 his country above party, if such a creature ex 
 isted, had a hard time of it. 
 
 The enthusiasm even spread beyond Massa 
 chusetts. The New York papers commented on 
 Porter and the situation, some with owl-like 
 gravity and others with ghoul-like merriment. 
 One or two responsive echoes came from Phil 
 adelphia, Chicago, and the far west. A Mon 
 tana contemporary seemed to have caught some 
 glimmerings of Porter s idea, and asserted that 
 the result of the struggle in Massachusetts 
 might affect the destiny of children yet unborn, 
 a statement which afforded infinite gaiety to 
 several humorous Republican journals. 
 
 In nearly every discussion of the subject more 
 or less reference was made to the " Democrat " 
 letters and indeed it was clear to every one that 
 these documents were affecting the course of the 
 campaign more than any other one thing, unless 
 it was the personality of Porter himself. Every 
 week they seemed to grow in vigour, terseness, 
 wit, point, direct and sinewy grasp of the prob 
 lems before the people. One of the best ideas 
 of the converted Hinckley was the publication 
 of the letters collected in a most effective 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 387 
 
 pamphlet which was distributed all over the 
 state. 
 
 Republican comments and answers to " Dem 
 ocrat " were of course forthcoming from every 
 where, many of them witty, satirical, and in 
 genious; but none seemed to have any great 
 vogue or take the public ear. The most effect 
 ive were those which hinted at the insincerity of 
 Porter s democracy and charged him with mak 
 ing a great parade of democratic ideas to the 
 people, but all the time identifying himself 
 more and more with an idle, luxurious class 
 from which he drew all his intellectual and 
 financial support. These charges were general, 
 however, vague and impersonal; and "Demo 
 crat " had not found it necessary to take more 
 than a passing notice of them. Even for two 
 or three days after the masquerade and Con 
 stance s threat of revelation, nothing more def 
 inite appeared; and Viola began to hope that 
 the threat would not be carried out and she 
 should be saved a complication which had wide 
 possibilities of unpleasantness. 
 
 She was mistaken. Wood had held the joker 
 till he wanted to use it. On the morning of 
 Wednesday, November first, not one but half 
 a dozen leading Republican papers all over the 
 state came out with great headlines. AUTHOR 
 OF DEMOCRAT LETTERS REVEALED AT LAST. 
 COLOSSAL FAKE. This was the prelude to a 
 lively story to the effect that the author of the 
 
388 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 letters was now known to be George Bucking 
 ham, librettist of a popular comic opera, a clever 
 man about town, rich, idle, member of a dozen 
 clubs, absolutely without any political convic 
 tions or enthusiasms whatsoever, whose sole 
 serious occupation hitherto had been the writing 
 of witty advertisements for Hanks s suspen 
 ders and other such useful articles. It had come 
 to this, then, said the Republican papers, that 
 a political nostrum must be advertised like any 
 other nostrum. The inventor of a panacea war 
 ranted to cure all the ills of government must 
 resort to the man who boomed popular specifics 
 for a disordered liver; and the same ingenious 
 wit which could turn happy verses on a pill for 
 indigestion could indite flaring philippics on a 
 salve for a corrupt legislature. 
 
 The Solons of Republicanism amplified still 
 further on their text. All this came obviously 
 from the company the Democratic candidate 
 had been lately keeping. Nobody doubted that 
 by inheritance and temper he was a good, sober, 
 serious young man, a little conceited, over-con 
 fident in his judgment, disposed to think that 
 he could remodel an old world with a few 
 touches of his deft fingers. Still, all this one 
 could respect him for, even if one smiled and did 
 not agree with him. But surely his warmest 
 admirers could not approve of the change that 
 had recently come over his habits and surround 
 ings. To pry too deeply into the social relaxa 
 tion of an ordinary personage would, of course, 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 389 
 
 be impertinent and indecorous. But the candi 
 date for governor must expect every detail of 
 his life to be subject to the closest scrutiny. Was 
 it suitable, then, that the representative of the 
 people par excellence, the man who stood above 
 all things for democratic ideals and simplicity 
 of life, who repudiated the excesses of wealth 
 and luxury which his poor followers and sup 
 porters could not share, should consort only with 
 the rich, with the idle, with those who had con 
 fessedly no other object than the gratification 
 of their own whims and who had nothing what 
 soever in common with the class which he as 
 sumed to represent? Consistency in all things 
 was, perhaps, beyond the reach of politicians as 
 well as of common men. But there was a cer 
 tain degree of inconsistency which was hardly 
 compatible with political self-respect. Nothing 
 as yet had so definitely shown the extent to 
 which Mr. Porter had allowed himself to come 
 under unfortunate influences as the fact that his 
 brilliant support in the " Democrat " letters was 
 now proved to have emanated from such a 
 source. And he could be well assured that a 
 large part of the significance of the overwhelm 
 ing defeat which certainly awaited him on the 
 following Tuesday might be attributed to the 
 very undesirable connections in which he had 
 recently become entangled. 
 
 Porter laughed at this. So did all his friends. 
 But it hurt. Such things always hurt. 
 
 " What will you answer? Or will you an- 
 
390 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 swer? " he said to Viola when he saw her for 
 a moment Thursday evening. 
 
 " Oh, I shall answer," she replied calmly. 
 " And I think you will be satisfied." 
 
 He was. 
 
 Saturday morning came the " Democrat " 
 letter as usual and hundreds of thousands of 
 readers waited for it with overwhelming curios 
 ity. " At the acutest crisis of a campaign," it 
 began, " when nothing should be considered but 
 political issues of the most vital importance to 
 the community, our attention is cleverly dis 
 tracted by petty insinuations of personal insult. 
 Hitherto I have avoided the discussion of such 
 things. It can be avoided no longer. Let us 
 have it clear and brief so that it can be under 
 stood by every one." 
 
 The writer then took up the question of au 
 thorship. Mr. Buckingham was accused of it. 
 And he, forsooth, was a witty man, a writer of 
 advertisements. It was natural perhaps that the 
 average Republican should be afraid of a witty 
 man. But what was there dishonest or degra 
 ding about writing advertisements? With ad 
 vertisements, as with sermons, the thing was to 
 write them well. As to advertising in itself, of 
 course Mr. Porter was advertising, and Mr. 
 Heath was advertising, and every political per 
 sonage and political party since the beginning 
 of the world had always been advertising, offer 
 ing their wares to the public with all possible 
 ingenuity of persuasive commendation. In poli- 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 391 
 
 tics, as in other things, the old adage held fully. 
 It pays to advertise, when you have a good 
 thing. The Republicans would find it had paid 
 Porter, when the day of reckoning came. 
 
 But could there be anything more absurd than 
 this tempest about the authorship of the letters? 
 As if they were the plays of Shakespeare. Did 
 they hit straight and hard? Did the blows tell? 
 Did every sentence knock over a Republican 
 vote, every argument sound a trumpet call to 
 those who were blinded by old traditions and 
 mouldy conventions? The author s modesty 
 could hardly hope that this was the case; but 
 if it were, they would have served their purpose. 
 What matter whether they were written by 
 George Buckingham or Theodore Roosevelt? 
 
 Further, now that the question of Mr. Por 
 ter s social relations had been so impudently 
 opened by the Republican papers, " Democrat " 
 would say a few words on that more general 
 subject, to dispose of it once for all. Mr. Por 
 ter had given no authority or commission to 
 any one to speak for him; but it so happened 
 that " Democrat " was in a situation to know 
 some facts which would shed an interesting light 
 on the matter. Nearly a year ago, when Porter 
 first began to be thought of as a candidate, some 
 of the Republican leaders were discussing the 
 situation. How should they meet this new dan 
 ger? What was the best way of putting this 
 eager, young, uncompromising spirit out of the 
 political field? Various suggestions were 
 
392 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 brought forward. At length one of the more 
 ingenious plotters proposed a woman. There 
 was no quicker, no surer, no deadlier way of 
 destroying a man s political future than by the 
 influence of a woman. But what woman? In 
 this case nothing common or mean would do, 
 no mere adventuress, lobbyist, hired at so much 
 a day to wheedle and cajole some unfortunate 
 of her own quality. Even Republican politi 
 cians could appreciate that Porter was not of 
 the stuff to be approached in such a fashion. 
 What then? The proposer of the scheme was 
 not balked by these obvious objections. Some 
 thing different was required. Something differ 
 ent was what he had in mind. Porter was a 
 Democrat, a radical, his political existence was 
 dependent upon Democrats and radicals, men to 
 whom luxury was in theory anathema, and 
 elegance and refinement the subtlest devices of 
 the devil of idleness. What was needed, then, 
 was a woman of aristocratic breeding, unlimited 
 wealth, wide culture, and luxurious habits, who 
 should ensnare the young Democrat, fascinate 
 him with the grace and witchery of her idle 
 world, teach him insensibly her own infinite 
 contempt for the reek of Democracy and the 
 claptrap of radicalism, so that he should find 
 himself at last in a thoroughly false position. 
 Then, when he was saturated with this subtle 
 virus, completely indentified with these new, un 
 natural, absolutely inconsistent surroundings, 
 just at the right moment, in the perfect polit- 
 
WCATTHEW SORTER 393 
 
 ical crisis, the Republican papers would discover 
 the inconsistency and benevolently point it out 
 to their deluded enemies, crying treachery, 
 treachery, treachery, till the bewildered people 
 really thought they had been betrayed. 
 
 It was a clever scheme, " Democrat " said, 
 and it might very well have succeeded. The 
 ingenious Republican politician knew just where 
 to find the woman for his purpose and found 
 her. She was rich, idle, luxurious, hated the 
 mob and disbelieved in democratic ideals. And 
 she agreed, partly from idle curiosity, partly 
 from a vague idea of helping her own class 
 against the rabble she detested, to undertake the 
 Iscariot-like task that was proposed to her. 
 What happened? Did Mr. Porter lose his fixity 
 of purpose, or change the temper of his dispo 
 sition? Not one jot. " Democrat " would fear 
 lessly declare that the leader was more sincerely 
 democratic, more uncompromising in his efforts, 
 more fully convinced of the great future of pop 
 ular government, than he had ever been in his 
 life before. Instead of being himself influenced 
 by the atmosphere of luxury and idleness with 
 which he had come in contact, he had influenced 
 others. Even the idlest, even the most luxuri 
 ous, had felt the enthusiasm of his ideals and had 
 come to take an absorbed interest in his success. 
 It was his distinguishing quality that he could 
 communicate his own zeal. And the persons 
 who had been selected as the instruments of his 
 downfall had found their acquaintance with him 
 
394 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 the beginning of a new spiritual life, had dis 
 covered a new nobility in politics, a new signif 
 icance in history. They had been bidden to 
 make him disbelieve. He had made them be 
 lieve. Among all his old friends and political 
 associates he had to-day no more ardent and 
 thoroughgoing supporters and sympathizers 
 than those whom the cynical chiefs of the Re 
 publican party had chosen to be his ruin. Thus 
 the overwhelming victory which was certain to 
 be his on the following Tuesday would be, in 
 some part at least, owing to the very efforts 
 which had been made for his defeat. Could 
 there be a more impressive instance of the way 
 in which evil designs recoil upon the heads of 
 the designers? 
 
 This personal portion of the letter was fol 
 lowed by a few other telling strokes of a more 
 general character; but it is safe to say that these 
 attracted comparatively little attention. On the 
 other hand, the Republican attack on Porter s 
 personal character and " Democrat s " vigorous 
 and daring vindication were read and discussed 
 by nearly every man, woman, and child in the 
 whole state. 
 
 As for Porter, when the first minute came 
 that he could snatch during the busy morning, 
 he took a cab and ran up to Viola s. Something 
 of his feeling he must pour out to her. Grati 
 tude for the splendid political service was much; 
 but passionate love, adoration almost, for the 
 woman s personal sacrifice was more. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 395 
 
 She received him alone, had perhaps shall 
 I say, probably? expected him. He walked 
 up to her, took both her hands, and looked deep, 
 deep into the dark eyes, which seemed almost 
 ready to fill with tears. 
 
 "How could you do it?" he said. "How 
 could you do it? Offer yourself, your inmost, 
 palpitating heart, to be pawed and trodden on 
 by those hideous brutes? How could you do 
 it?" 
 
 " I would do more than that for the cause 
 I am serving," she answered, self-possessed, yet 
 he was aware of the effort in her self-possession. 
 
 He still held her hands, still spoke in the same 
 tone. " All for the cause? Nothing for me? " 
 
 But she drew her hands away and laid one 
 finger on her lips, as resolute as ever. " Hush! 
 The election! How can we think or talk of 
 anything now but the election? We should be 
 profaning the high sanctity of all our ideals, if 
 we did." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 " IT seems the fellow keeps repeating his chal 
 lenge to you to debate in Faneuil Hall, Dud 
 ley," said Wood to his nephew. " It s all non 
 sense, but I don t know but you ll have to meet 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, by all means, meet him. Why not? " 
 
 "Afraid?" 
 
 " Wouldn t you be? " 
 
 " I don t see why you need. The one thing 
 you can do is talk, could from your cradle. You 
 can outtalk him, I think. Then, if he chal 
 lenges, you can have the last word." 
 
 " Thank you. I d rather have the first. I 
 don t want to argue with Porter. The trick in 
 these matters is to get your audience into the 
 right mood to start with. Then let him hammer 
 away at em as much as he likes. Afterwards 
 I ll pull him up with a little ridicule." 
 
 " Have it your own way. It s your affair, 
 not mine. Only I think it will have to be done." 
 
 So the great debate was arranged for Satur 
 day, November fourth, the day on which Viola s 
 defence of her hero appeared. Admission to 
 the hall was to be only by ticket. Some of Por 
 ter s friends had feared that this plan would 
 discontent his humbler followers and had taken 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 397 
 
 pains to see that tickets were distributed im 
 partially to persons of all classes. As the time 
 approached, however, the demand became so 
 great that several dollars were readily paid to 
 any holder who was willing to sell and the 
 chances were that the audience would be as 
 select as that of a symphony concert. Hinck- 
 ley was much disturbed until he hit upon the 
 happy idea of announcing that on Monday eve 
 ning in the same place Porter would give an 
 account of the debate and sound a final note of 
 exhortation to every Democrat who could make 
 his way in. 
 
 "That damned Hinckley," said Wood to 
 Heath, as he read the signature to this notice. 
 " Porter s hypnotized him for good." 
 
 " It s Viola, they say," returned the other. 
 " All part of that beautiful scheme of yours." 
 
 To this Wood made no answer. " Well, it ll 
 have to be Tremont Temple for us, that s all. 
 And you ve got to get the best of him Satur 
 day." 
 
 Hinckley, too, was thinking about Saturday 
 as well as Monday. " I hope too many of those 
 tickets aren t going into Republican hands," he 
 said to Porter. " We don t want them to have 
 all the noise." 
 
 " No fear," was the smiling answer. " You 
 know a handful of Rooney s friends will make 
 more racket than all the Republicans in the 
 state. It isn t that I count on though. George 
 Buckingham has taken the thing in charge and 
 
398 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 will have a solid phalanx of his own that will 
 do whatever may be necessary. Besides, from 
 what I hear, I think as many Republican tickets 
 have been sold as Democratic." 
 
 Even Faneuil Hall has rarely seen a more im 
 pressive audience than gathered there on that 
 Saturday evening. The platform was crowded 
 with well-known dignitaries, an ex-President of 
 the United States, four United States senators, 
 congressmen, judges, college presidents, men 
 prominent in every business and profession. 
 The body of the hall held, perhaps, more women 
 than had ever been seen at a political gathering; 
 for the personal relations of the two candidates 
 and the gossip engendered by the " Democrat " 
 correspondence had aroused a passionate interest 
 in many to whom abstract politics meant no 
 more than abstract astronomy. 
 
 Ex- Senator Woodward presided, a Republi 
 can of the war time, but a man whose well- 
 known dignity and breadth of character assured 
 absolute impartiality. 
 
 At eight precisely the two candidates came 
 upon the platform from opposite doors. When 
 they met in the middle and shook hands a roar 
 of applause went up that might have fitly wel 
 comed a second declaration of independence. 
 The audience saw not only two aspirants to the 
 highest office in the commonwealth, but two men 
 who had been struggling for years in the keen 
 est personal rivalry and now came together at 
 the crisis of their lives to pit all their gifts 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 399 
 
 against each other in an open contest before the 
 most brilliant array of judges that the country 
 could afford. For a moment the crowd gave 
 way to a sort of delirium and Senator Wood 
 ward made no attempt to call them to order. 
 
 When the candidates were quietly seated, a 
 lull came, however, and then the chairman ex 
 plained the conditions of the debate. Mr. Heath 
 was to speak first, for a half -hour. Mr. Porter 
 was to follow, also for a half-hour. Mr. Heath 
 was to have fifteen minutes to reply and Mr. 
 Porter the same length of time to close. The 
 audience was asked to remember that the im 
 portant feature of the evening was the speaking, 
 and that while a proper amount of enthusiasm 
 here the chairman smiled was quite allow 
 able, any undue protraction of disturbance 
 would render it necessary to stop the debate at 
 once. Both speakers had left such closure to 
 the chairman s discretion and he wished the as 
 sembly to take warning beforehand. 
 
 The assembly laughed, cheered the chairman, 
 shouted in frenzy as Heath rose to begin his 
 speech, then settled down to rapt attention. 
 
 And Heath spoke wonderfully well. There 
 was no doubt about that. No one had ever 
 heard him speak so well before. His was just 
 the temper to respond to the stimulus of a great 
 occasion. He moved about the platform enough 
 to seem perfectly at ease. All his gestures and 
 attitudes were graceful. His manner never lost 
 the indefinable aristocratic something, which was 
 
400 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 not haughty, was not patronizing, yet seemed 
 to give him an inborn right to be a leader and 
 to make men move at his behest. 
 
 From the beginning he took bold and strong 
 ground on the claims of the Republican party. 
 It was not perfect. What human institution 
 was or could be? But what a past it had behind 
 it! And he rehearsed the old theme of glory 
 with a cleverness of rhetoric that seemed almost 
 new. The past was nothing, however. No 
 party could take its stand for ever upon that. 
 The real Republican reliance was on present 
 and future. Briefly but effectively he outlined 
 the chief Republican principles. Then he 
 showed that it was not only the principles that 
 counted. It was the steadfastness which sup 
 ported them. The Republican was the party of 
 stability. Open to wise change, always looking 
 for a chance to improve the condition of things, 
 it yet deprecated sudden and violent shifts 
 which had no meaning and no permanent value. 
 Looking back at its history, who could fail to 
 recognize a uniform course of moderate, intelli 
 gent, uninterrupted progress? And what was 
 offered in its stead? No one could deny that 
 the Democracy contained many brilliant minds 
 who would be an honour to any party. The 
 present occasion alone furnished abundant evi 
 dence of that. But they were too apt to give 
 their energies to mere attack and destruction. 
 As, for instance, his honourable friend there who 
 charged the legislature of Massachusetts with all 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 401 
 
 the evil and corruption under the sun. And 
 what support had these brilliant exceptions, 
 what background, what guarantee of perma 
 nence? As many leaders, so many parties. 
 Now one new specific, then another. And in 
 the twinkling of an eye this last had vanished 
 and still another had arisen in its place. Was 
 it for a moment to be supposed that the sober 
 good sense of the majority of citizens would en 
 trust the government to a faction so mobile, so 
 uncertain, so incapable of persistence in any 
 course, good, bad or indifferent? For his part, 
 he did not believe it. The future of Massachu 
 setts, like the future of the nation, would be en 
 trusted to the Republicans, and in so far as he 
 was a humble representative of that party, he 
 could promise that the people should never re 
 gret their confidence. 
 
 The speaker was immensely applauded dur 
 ing his speech, with only an occasional Demo 
 cratic murmur; and when he had finished, the 
 outburst was as enthusiastic as could be desired. 
 
 Yet Viola detected, or thought she detected, 
 something of a heartier ring in the shout which 
 greeted Porter, as he rose quietly and took his 
 place in the centre of the platform. Some 
 might prefer his manner and some Heath s; but 
 there could be no question as to the difference 
 between the two. Porter moved little, used few 
 gestures. He had none of Heath s nonchalant 
 ease, none of his high-bred grace and elegance. 
 But before he had spoken two minutes, one of 
 
402 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 the senators Republican at that whispered 
 to the Republican college president beside him, 
 " This is a man." And the college president 
 answered, " He is, if I know one." 
 
 Porter lost no time in rhetoric, but went right 
 at the facts. He was glad his opponent had in 
 sisted on fundamental party principles. He 
 himself should do the same. The first, the cardi 
 nal principle of the Democratic party had al 
 ways been the importance of the state. He went 
 on to show in some detail how in the early days, 
 when the union was growing, it had been un 
 necessary to insist on this principle. Then the 
 union had grown and grown, until by means of 
 the war and the splendid triumphs and services 
 of the Republican party, it had come altogether 
 to overshadow the original elements of which it 
 was composed. So that now the state govern 
 ments were merely tolerated, neglected, and 
 every ambitious politician, every voter even, 
 looked to Washington as the true sphere of all 
 political activity. The protest against this con 
 dition of things was the natural duty of the 
 Democratic party and it was in expression of 
 that protest that he had allowed himself to be 
 put forward as the Democratic candidate for 
 governor. 
 
 He then made it clear by numerous instances 
 that the state government was of infinitely more 
 importance to the average citizen than the 
 national. If this was so, surely it was above all 
 things essential that the state government should 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 403 
 
 be clean, strong, effective. Was it so? Was 
 it not notorious that everywhere the state gov 
 ernments were feeble, incapable, and corrupt? 
 Yes, his adversary had charged him with saying 
 that the state legislatures, not of Massachusetts 
 only, were corrupt. Would his adversary, or 
 any one else in the distinguished assemblage 
 here he looked at the dignitaries on the plat 
 form deny the corruption? But in urging 
 this he meant to bring no charge against the 
 individual legislators. Man for man they were 
 as honest as other men. He had known scores 
 of them personally and esteemed them and be 
 lieved in them. The men were not at fault. It 
 was the system. Three hundred men were 
 brought together, each to fight for his separate 
 district. What could they do but trade and 
 bargain and sell their votes and their voices one 
 to another? In all this unorganized mob, who 
 represented the state? The governor? Where 
 was the governor? Did he ever appear in the 
 legislature? Did he have any one to represent 
 him in the legislature? But, it might be said, 
 he has a veto. The sole representative of the 
 state as a whole, and only a veto! What if the 
 captain of a ship had only a veto on the deci 
 sions of the crew? What if the general of an 
 army had only a veto on the plans of a council 
 of war? Would that be a practical way to 
 govern? " Fellow citizens," the speaker con 
 cluded, " there is but one way to purify our 
 state governments. Give the governor power, 
 
404 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 at the same time holding him to the strictest 
 responsibility. On that plank I stand or fall. 
 It is a Democratic plank simply because the 
 Democrats have had the wisdom to make it so. 
 But no Republican who loves his country or 
 looks forward to the future with a prophetic 
 eye will or ought to vote against it." 
 
 There had been far less applause during this 
 speech than during Heath s. No telling points 
 had been made, no rhetorical pauses, there had 
 been no clever waving of the stars and stripes 
 back and forth before the golden calf of party 
 loyalty. But the speaker himself felt, his adver 
 sary felt, every one present felt, that every one 
 present was listening. Something in the quiet, 
 earnest, penetrating voice, something in the 
 spirit behind the voice, held every other spirit 
 by a charm too deep for mere outcry and riot 
 ous demonstration. When Porter had con 
 cluded, however, the prolonged tumult of enthu 
 siasm had a note which other ears than Viola s 
 felt to be different from anything that had pre 
 ceded it. 
 
 Yet Heath was not daunted. His courage, 
 whether on the polo ground or on the battle 
 field of politics, was of the kind that rises with 
 defeat. Calm, cool, serene, he stepped forward 
 and began his answer with the same well-bred 
 ease that had marked his first attack, and in 
 making use of a courteous, deferential irony, 
 he probably resorted to the most effective 
 weapon that could have been found for his pur- 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 405 
 
 pose. He could afford to be generous, he said, 
 in paying tribute to the noble, the truly lofty 
 oration to which they had been listening; since 
 he need hardly tell his auditors or his gifted 
 opponent that it had little bearing on practical 
 politics. Indeed, such abstract theorizing was 
 so far remote from all actual conditions that it 
 seemed almost superfluous for him to attempt 
 to discuss any of the every-day points that ap 
 peared to be involved. Yet something he did 
 feel bound to say as to the iniquity of the state 
 legislature. His friend s ideal scheme appeared 
 to require that the legislature should be corrupt. 
 As this was the case, it seemed unkind to show 
 that the legislature was not corrupt. But facts 
 were facts. He then proceeded to narrate some 
 telling incidents which pleased the audience for 
 the moment, and subtly altered its frame of 
 mind, as the speaker intended. After all, how 
 ever, he went on, of what use was this sober, 
 practical point of view? His opponent was an 
 idealist. He had been telling them, not what 
 could be done, but what should be done, might 
 be done, some day, somewhere, in a better world 
 than this. How often had such candidates ap 
 peared before, with immense projects for re 
 forming all evils under the sun. Where were 
 they? What had become of them? If they had 
 had the good fortune to be elected, they had 
 turned out to be governors like other governors, 
 accepting the conditions of their office, doing 
 what good they could some of them none 
 
406 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 of them ever thinking again of the wonderful 
 programme they had proclaimed for themselves 
 beforehand. For his part, he could not pretend 
 to build castles in the air for the hard future 
 to knock over. All that he could promise was 
 to do his duty as his predecessors had done, and 
 to be a faithful servant to the constitution of 
 Massachusetts according to the good old tradi 
 tions of the Republican party. It was not much 
 in sound, perhaps, but it was at least a promise 
 that could be and would be carried out. 
 
 Republican supporters from platform and 
 floor received these honourable sentiments with 
 due approval, yet even the warmest partisans 
 seemed to applaud with a trifle of impatience, 
 as if they were less interested in their candi 
 date s confession of faith than in the possibilities 
 of Porter s reply. 
 
 That reply came instantly, straight and clear. 
 His adversary s tactics, Porter said, were to turn 
 him and his ideals into a jest. But he would 
 not be turned into a jest. Talk of facts! He 
 himself was a fact and a stern fact, as his ad 
 versary would find out when the time came. It 
 was the curse of American life, in politics, per 
 haps in other matters, to take everything as a 
 joke. Dishonesty was a joke, lying was a joke, 
 bribery was a joke, a good joke, a clever trick 
 by which the brightest man won his way and 
 sailed laughing into the highest and sacredest 
 offices of the state. His friend had given vari 
 ous romantic instances of legislative integrity. 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 407 
 
 Many others might doubtless be found to match 
 them. But alas, how easy would it be to parallel 
 every one of these with a deed of shame. The 
 speaker then referred briefly to some of the most 
 notorious scandals of recent years and also to 
 a few lesser matters which had come within his 
 own personal observation. 
 
 In view of such things as these, could any one, 
 he asked, seriously deny that the whole of our 
 political life, and with our politics, of our busi 
 ness world, was tainted by financial corruption? 
 
 " This, fellow citizens, is where we land, when 
 we take our government, our history, our na 
 tional honour, as a joke. There is a fit time to 
 laugh and a time when laughter is hideously out 
 of place. Life is a serious thing. The lives and 
 happiness of three, of eighty millions of people 
 are a serious thing. The future of free govern 
 ment is a serious thing, not to be toyed with, 
 or made light of, or jested away. I stand here 
 before you to-night with the professed and seri 
 ous purpose of making Massachusetts an exam 
 ple to every state in the Union, of making her 
 the leading free commonwealth in the world; 
 and I solemnly pledge myself, in defiance of all 
 jesters and jesting, to give my best endeavours, 
 to give my life itself, if necessary, to the accom 
 plishment of that. end." 
 
 Mere printed words cannot convey the ear 
 nestness, the dignity, the almost sacred solem 
 nity, which went to the utterance of this vow. 
 Not a man or woman in the audience but felt 
 
408 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 it. Not a man or woman stirred for several 
 seconds after the speaker ceased; but there was 
 a hush as if he had been breathing a prayer. 
 Then a mighty shout filled the wide hall and 
 echoed round the benignant faces of the ancient 
 fathers. "Porter! Porter! Hurrah for Por 
 ter!" The Republicans dutifully set up an op 
 posing cheer for their candidate; but the noise 
 was less spontaneous and less effective, and even 
 outside the hall, far down into the crowded 
 street, the waiting multitude took up the cry, 
 " Hurrah for Porter! Porter! Porter! " 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 SUNDAY Porter allowed himself a peaceful 
 afternoon and evening in Foxbridge alone with 
 his sister. They talked much of politics, of 
 course, much of the debate, much of the " Demo 
 crat " letter and of the Republican comments 
 on it in the morning papers. For Miss Porter 
 had been reading the Sunday papers, perhaps 
 for the first time in her life. 
 
 " They were rather feeble, I thought," said 
 Clara. 
 
 " But then you are prejudiced," was her 
 brother s smiling answer. 
 
 "I don t deny it. But they took so little 
 notice of the exposure of Heath s conduct. All 
 they did was to reinsist on Mr. Buckingham s 
 authorship of the letters. And why shouldn t 
 he write the letters? But the other charge was 
 a different matter. Do you suppose, Mat, they 
 really use the influence of all sorts of 
 women in politics? " 
 
 " I suppose they do, dear sister. I fancy they 
 would be glad to use the influence of even such 
 women as you. I am sure I should." 
 
 You know that isn t what I mean." 
 
 " I know what you mean. They certainly 
 
 409 
 
410 MCATTHEW SORTER 
 
 didn t use any such influence in my case, what 
 ever they might have liked to do." 
 
 " Those letters have been a wonderful help, 
 Mat, haven t they? " began Miss Porter again, 
 after a brief silence. 
 
 " I don t know where I should have been with 
 out them and their author." 
 
 " Their author? I can t believe it is Mr. 
 Buckingham, after all, though I suppose he is 
 quite clever enough. They seem more than 
 clever." 
 
 " So is he." 
 
 " Well, perhaps. At any rate, I don t believe 
 he wrote them. And you say that to-morrow 
 night, at the Jefferson Club banquet, the author 
 will reveal himself and speak? I should really 
 like to go." 
 
 "You, Clara? Well, what is to prevent? 
 You know Miss Buckingham urged you to 
 visit her again. Why don t you? " 
 
 " But I must be here Tuesday, with you, to 
 get the first word every word." 
 
 " Exactly. But you can come back Tuesday 
 morning. I ll telephone to Miss Buckingham 
 
 now." 
 
 When he returned, the conversation before the 
 smouldering fire became a little more personal 
 a brief word here and there, with intimate 
 silences. Long since, Miss Porter had partly 
 guessed, partly heard her brother s secret, but 
 she did not like to urge him to talk freely. 
 
JttATTHEW PORTER 411 
 
 " You have no more definite hope in regard 
 to Miss Buckingham?" she asked at length. 
 
 He shook his head. " None definite. I 
 believe she cares for me. Yet I don t know. It 
 may be that I am no more to her than a symbol, 
 a mere personification of the abstract cause that 
 has awakened all the deepest vitality of her 
 nature. I don t know. And even if she cares 
 for me, how can I expect her to give up her 
 immense independence, the large, free motion 
 of her own will to which she has always been 
 accustomed, and come to meet another will, even 
 half-way. It means a great deal to me, Clara. 
 Oh! so much. Do you think me ungrateful or 
 neglectful of all you are to me? " 
 
 " No, no," she said, " it is so different. It 
 must be different. She shall be as dear to me 
 as you are." 
 
 Silence again, except for the clock, the fire, 
 and the low moan of the November wind. 
 
 The banquet of the Jefferson Club was a very 
 brilliant affair. A hundred and twenty guests 
 assembled, among whom were some distin 
 guished Democrats from other states and a 
 large number of ladies, including Viola and 
 several of her Boston friends, as well as Miss 
 Porter. 
 
 The dinner, though excellent, was rapidly dis 
 posed of; for everybody knew what was to come 
 and, moreover, Porter, who was present, was 
 obliged to leave for Faneuil Hall at eight 
 
412 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 o clock and was expected to say a few words 
 before his departure. 
 
 Therefore the company was called to order 
 at a little after half -past seven, the candidate 
 made his brief speech amid huge applause, took 
 his leave, and was succeeded by Burke, who also 
 spoke very briefly, explaining that he knew his 
 audience was looking for a much more brilliant 
 entertainment than he could afford them. 
 
 Then the president introduced Mr. George 
 Buckingham. 
 
 The audience looked at one another. It was 
 he, then, really he. The Republicans were right. 
 And he had written advertisements. There was 
 no denying it. Well, what if he had? He was 
 a clever fellow. And his letters what would 
 you or I have given to be able to write them? 
 Let us applaud him, with all our hearts. 
 
 They did, and Flitters, standing trim and 
 simple, with a carnation in the buttonhole of his 
 evening coat, blinked his pale eyes and looked 
 as solemn as an owl and as humorously out of 
 place. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," he began, when the 
 uproar was stilled. " I want to talk to you 
 about the Democrat letters. I suppose a few 
 of you may have read them, although you look 
 to me like too intelligent a company to waste 
 much time on reading of that nature. You ve 
 heard of them, however. And I hardly need 
 tell you what remarkable productions they are. 
 
MCATTHEW SORTER 413 
 
 Viewed as pieces of pure literature even, I con 
 sider that they yield nothing to the letters of 
 Junius, which, by the way, have always seemed 
 to me a rather inferior sort of affair. But these 
 letters are not to be viewed as literature, they 
 are to be viewed solely as red hot shot in this 
 campaign; and from that standpoint I think 
 it would be hard to find their equal. There is 
 no rhetoric in them, no literary gorgeousness, 
 just straight argument, flying like an ungloved 
 fist, blow after blow, into the podgy Republican 
 stomach, which has so long been fattening on 
 the good things of the people. I reel with 
 laughter, ladies and gentlemen, positively reel, 
 when I think of Messrs. Wood and Heath so 
 simply concocting the beautiful scheme which 
 was shown up in Saturday s Democrat and 
 getting nothing out of it but a hornet s nest. 
 Yes, there have been several interesting fea 
 tures in this campaign, among others a certain 
 Porter as he has gone, there is no use in try 
 ing to see if I could make him blush; but the 
 most interesting, original, and effective feature, 
 in my opinion, has been the * Democrat let 
 ters."* 
 
 Here the speaker paused, took a drink of 
 water, and enjoyed the confusion, the bewilder 
 ment, which had been coming to a climax in the 
 faces of his audience. 
 
 " And now, ladies and gentlemen," he re 
 sumed, " I take pleasure in presenting to you 
 
414 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 the author of the Democrat letters, who is 
 sitting at my right hand Miss Viola Buck 
 ingham." 
 
 It took this statement a second to penetrate, 
 several seconds to get credited. Then, as Viola 
 rose from her seat, and stood waiting, a little 
 paler than usual, a universal shout broke forth, 
 which made the chandeliers rattle and the pass 
 ers-by in the street pause in wonder. Again and 
 again the noise died away. Again and again 
 it was renewed, as people realized afresh the 
 astonishing revelation that had been made to 
 them. Not one person in that room, probably 
 not one person in Massachusetts, besides Porter, 
 Wingate, and Flitters, had thought of looking 
 for " Democrat " in such a quarter as this. 
 
 Meantime Viola was standing, smiling, 
 though with tears in her eyes. But at length 
 the president compelled silence so that she 
 might be heard. 
 
 " My friends," she said, " this is a very 
 great occasion for me. It is hardly necessary 
 for me to disclaim the absurd eulogy which it 
 has pleased my neighbour to deliver on the hy 
 pothesis that he was the author of the documents 
 in question. The letters have done their part. 
 So have all of you, each in his own way, and 
 I hope that to-morrow most of you will do it, 
 as Democrat cannot, at the polls. But if we 
 win, and we shall win, it will be owing neither 
 to your efforts nor to Democrat s. It will be 
 owing to the character of the candidate for 
 
MATTHEW PORTER 415 
 
 whom we are fighting and to the cause he rep 
 resents. What that cause is I need not tell you 
 in detail. It is enough to use the words of 
 Lincoln and say that Mr. Porter is labouring 
 with all his heart and soul that Government of 
 the people, by the people, and for the people, 
 may not perish from the earth. If I have been 
 able to render even the least service towards 
 that end, it will be the proudest and the happiest 
 action of my life." 
 
 The applause broke out again more wildly 
 than before. The whole company gathered 
 about Viola to congratulate her and press her 
 hand. Even yet they did not realize the fact, 
 could not take it in. " Did you write them? " 
 Were you really the author of all those let 
 ters?" "How could you write them?" 
 "And keep it to yourself all this time, too?" 
 
 " A good card for Porter," observed Flitters 
 to Flora, as they stood quietly outside the 
 throng. " I believe you promised to become 
 Mrs. Buckingham if he is elected. It looks now 
 as if you might have that misfortune." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 TUESDAY morning Porter went to Foxbridge 
 to vote and then wait quietly at home for the 
 result. 
 
 The morning papers were, of course, full of 
 the " Democrat " revelation. " It s worth five 
 thousand votes to us, at least," said Burke to 
 Hinckley. " Ten, I put it," said Hinckley to 
 Burke. " These sentimental considerations take 
 the women and the women will get after the 
 
 men." 
 
 " Democrat " also issued a last appeal, brief 
 and general, but even more vigorous and stir 
 ring than usual. If it had been dull as Lethe, 
 however, it would have stirred people on that 
 morning, after the incident of the evening 
 before. 
 
 Yet with all this, the wise ones shook their 
 heads. The great excitement of the campaign 
 had tended to sharpen party lines and, as every 
 one knows, the Republicans are strong in Massa 
 chusetts. Porter had made a bustle on the sur 
 face, admitted the wise ones; but there is a 
 large conservative element, which votes but does 
 not talk, nor care for the talk of others. Then 
 there was the money. Money was said to have 
 
 416 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 417 
 
 been used on the Republican side to an extent 
 almost unheard of in this old-fashioned state. 
 Wood could command unlimited sums and he 
 was desperate. A defeat at such a crisis would 
 shake his prestige so that it was doubtful 
 whether he could ever recover it, and the sena- 
 torship, which had been the ambition of his life, 
 seemed slipping away from him. 
 
 Therefore it was by no means with perfect 
 confidence that Porter sat down in his study in 
 the evening to await the final result. He had 
 asked to be alone, had asked even Clara to leave 
 him. Flitters, Smith, Burke were all outside, 
 taking turns at the telephone, rushing to the 
 study door to give the figures from one place 
 or another, announcing them from the piazza 
 to the throng which had gathered about the 
 house, cheered madly at every Democratic gain, 
 and called for Porter until several times he was 
 obliged to go to a window and speak to them, 
 when the cheering was madder than ever. But 
 in the study it was quiet. The fire burned 
 brightly on the hearth. The cat was asleep on 
 the window-seat, indifferent to elections and 
 human vanity. 
 
 Porter read a little, wrote a little, in spite of 
 the incessant interruptions. But his mind was 
 elsewhere, not unnaturally. This was the crisis 
 of his life, the day towards which the hopes of 
 years had tended. If he were beaten, of course 
 he should not give up. But what courage it 
 
418 MATTHEW SORTER 
 
 would take to begin the whole edifice again from 
 the foundation! Should he be beaten? 
 
 "Brockton for Porter!" "Fall River for 
 Porter!" "Worcester probably for Heath." 
 Well, that was to be expected. " Lowell for 
 Porter!" " Porter leads. Not much doubt!" 
 telephones Hinckley. A great cheering this 
 time and another speech. 
 
 And Viola. Come what, come may, he would 
 see Viola to-morrow. She must answer him 
 then. Could it be that failure there would be 
 added to failure elsewhere? Well, if it were 
 so, he would face it like a man. 
 
 Enter Flitters. " A note by special messen 
 ger, marked personal. May be a bill, may be 
 a love-letter. Will wait till to-morrow in either 
 case, I should think." Exit Flitters, 
 
 Porter took the letter with indifference, in 
 stantly recognized Viola s writing, and tore it 
 open. " Dear Friend," it ran. " I could not 
 let this hour pass without your hearing from me. 
 If we win, as we must and shall, I want every 
 drop of happiness to be crowded into your cup. 
 If by some extraordinary perversity of chance, 
 we should lose, I want you to know that I am 
 nearer to you than any other human being to 
 give you courage for a new battle and a final 
 triumph. When you came to me first, I fell in 
 love with the cause. Now I love the man with 
 my whole heart and soul. The man is worthy 
 of the cause. If only I were worthy of either! 
 Yours, when you choose to come for me. V. B." 
 
MATTHEW SORTER 419 
 
 Porter sat rapt, reading this letter over and 
 over and over, hardly able to take in what it 
 meant to him. From time to time an announce 
 ment was made and the crowd cheered, but he 
 did not hear it. 
 
 Then, all at once, after a moment s lull, there 
 was a rush, as it seemed, of every one in the 
 house. Flitters burst into the study with the 
 whole company behind him. " Porter elected 
 without a question. Hinckley congratulates," 
 he cried. "Porter! Porter! Porter!" 
 
 The cry was taken up by all present, ran 
 through the corridors, and swelled outside into 
 a long roar, renewed over and over again. 
 " Porter! Porter! Porter! Hurrah for Porter! 
 We want Porter." 
 
 Porter rose from his chair, still holding the 
 letter, almost like a man awakened from a 
 dream. Folding his hands, with the letter in 
 them, he bowed his head, and every sound in the 
 room was hushed, while against the background 
 of tumultuous ecstasy without there came the 
 grave murmur of his solemn words : " God save 
 the Commonwealth of Massachusetts." 
 
 THE END. 
 

 
Announcement Hist 
 
 of ifrfc f ttfam 
 
 Haunters of the Silences. BY CHARLES G. 
 
 D. ROBERTS, author of " Red Fox," " The Watchers of 
 the Trails," etc. 
 
 Cloth, one volume, with many drawings by Charles Liv 
 ingston Bull, four of which are in full color . $2.00 
 
 The stories in Mr. Roberts s new collection are the strong 
 est and best he has ever written. 
 
 He has largely taken for his subjects those animals rarely 
 met with in books, whose lives are spent " In the Silences," 
 where they are the supreme rulers. Mr. Roberts has writ 
 ten of them sympathetically, as always, but with fine regard 
 for the scientific truth. 
 
 " As a writer about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies an enviable 
 place. He is the most literary, as well as the most imaginative 
 and vivid of all the nature writers." Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 " His animal stories are marvels of sympathetic science anr 
 literary exactness." New York World. 
 
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY S 
 
 The Lady of the Blue Motor. By 
 
 G. SIDNEY PATERNOSTER, author of " The Cruise of 
 the Motor-Boat Conqueror," " The Motor Pirate," etc. 
 
 Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece by John C. 
 Frohn $1.50 
 
 The Lady of the Blue Motor is an audacious heroine 
 who drove her mysterious car at breakneck speed. Her 
 plea for assistance in an adventure promising more than a 
 spice of danger could not of course be disregarded by any 
 gallant fellow motorist. Mr. Paternoster s hero rose 
 promptly to the occasion. Across France they tore and 
 across the English Channel. There, the escapade past, he 
 lost her. 
 
 Mr. Paternoster, however, is generous, and allows the 
 reader to follow their separate adventures until the Lady of 
 the Blue Motor is found again and properly vindicated of 
 all save womanly courage and affection. A unique ro 
 mance, one continuous exciting series of adventure. 
 
 Clementina s Highwayman. By ROBERT 
 
 NEILSON STEPHENS, author of "The Flight of Geor- 
 giana," " An Enemy to the King," etc. 
 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated . . . , . $1.50 
 
 Mr. Stephens has put into his new book, " Clementina s 
 Highwayrran," the finest qualities of plot, construction, and 
 literary finish. 
 
 The story is laid in the mid-Georgian period. It is a 
 dashing, sparkling, vivacious comedy, with a heroine as 
 lovely and changeable as an April day, and a hero all ardor 
 and daring. 
 
 The exquisite quality of Mr. Stephens s literary style 
 clothes the story in a rich but delicate word-fabric ; and 
 never before have his setting and atmosphere been so 
 perfect. 
 
LIST OF NEW FICTION 
 
 The Sorceress Of Rome. By NATHAN GAL- 
 LIZIER, author of " Castel del Monte," etc. 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated . . . . $1.50 
 
 The love-story of Otto III., the boy emperor, and Ste- 
 phania, wife of the Senator Crescentius of Rome, has 
 already been made the basis of various German poems and 
 plays. 
 
 Mr. Gallizier has used it for the main theme of "The 
 Sorceress of Rome," the second book of his trilogy of 
 romances on the mediaeval life of Italy. In detail and 
 finish the book is a brilliant piece of work, describing 
 clearly an exciting and strenuous period. It possesses the 
 same qualities as " Castel del Monte," of which the Chicago 
 Record Herald said : " There is color, there is sumptuous 
 word-painting in these pages; the action is terrific at times; 
 vividness and life are in every part; brilliant descriptions 
 entertain the reader ; mystic scenes and prophecies give a 
 singular fascination to the tale, which is strong and force 
 ful in its portrayal." 
 
 Hester Of the Hills. ByGnovER CLAY. 
 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated . . . . $1.50 
 
 " Hester of the Hills " has a motif unusual in life, and 
 new in fiction. Its hero, who has only acquired his own 
 strength and resourcefulness by a lifelong struggle against 
 constitutional frailty, has come to make the question of 
 bodily soundness his dominant thought. He resolves to 
 ensure strong constitutions to his children by marrying a 
 physically perfect woman. After long search, he finds this 
 ideal in Hester, the daughter of a " cracker squatter," of 
 the Ozark Mountains of Missouri. But, he forgot to 
 take into consideration that very vital emotion, love, which 
 played havoc with his well-laid plans. 
 
 It is an ingenious combination of practical realism and 
 imaginative fiction worked out to a thoroughly delightful 
 and satisfying climax. 
 
Z. C. PAGE AND COMPANY S 
 
 Prisoners Of Fortune. A TALE OF THE MASSA 
 CHUSETTS BAY COLONY. BY RUEL PERLEY SMITH, 
 author of " The Rival Campers," etc. 
 
 Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece by Frank T. 
 Merrill $1.50 
 
 The period of Mr. Smith s story is the beginning of the 
 eighteenth century, when the shores of the American col 
 onies were harassed and the seas patrolled by pirates and 
 buccaneers. These robbed and spoiled, and often seized 
 and put to death, the sailors and fishers and other humbler 
 folk, while their leaders claimed friendship alike with South 
 ern planters and New England merchants, with whom 
 it is said they frequently divided their spoils. 
 
 The times were stern and the colonists were hardy, but 
 they loved as truly and tenderly as in more peaceful days. 
 Thus, while the hero s adventures with pirates and his search 
 for their hidden treasure is a record of desperate encounters 
 and daring deeds, his love-story and his winning of sweet 
 Mary Vane is in delightful contrast. 
 
 The Rome Express. BY MAJOR ARTHUR GRIP- 
 FITHS, author of " The Passenger from Calais," etc. 
 
 Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece by A. O. 
 Scott $1.25 
 
 A mysterious murder on a flying express train, a wily 
 Italian, a charming woman caught in the meshes of circum 
 stantial evidence, a chivalrous Englishman, and a police 
 force with a keen nose for the wrong clue, are the ingredi 
 ents from which Major Griffiths has concocted a clever, up- 
 to-date detective story. The book is bright and spirited, 
 with rapid action, and consistent development which brings 
 the story to a logical and dramatic ending. 
 
LIST OF NEW FICTION 
 
 The Morning Glory Club. BY GEORGE A. 
 
 KYLE. 
 
 Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece by A. O. 
 Scott $1.25 
 
 The doings of the Morning Glory Club will furnish genu 
 ine amusement to the reader. Originally formed to " ele 
 vate " the village, it quickly develops into an exchange for 
 town gossip. It has a saving grace, however, in the person 
 of motherly Mrs. Stout, the uncultured but sweet-natured 
 and pure-minded village philosopher, who pours the oil of 
 her saneness and charity on the troubled waters of discus 
 sion and condemnation. 
 
 It is a series of clear and interesting pictures of the hu 
 mor of village life. 
 
 The Chronicles of Martin Hewitt, De 
 tective. NEW ILLUSTRATED EDITION. BY AR 
 THUR MORRISON, author of " The Green Diamond, * 
 " The Red Triangle," etc. 
 
 Cloth decorative, with six full-page drawings by W. Kirk- 
 patrick $1.50 
 
 The success of Mr. Morrison s recent books, " The Green 
 Diamond " and " The Red Triangle," has led to an impera 
 tive demand for the reissue of The Chronicles of Martin 
 Hewitt," which has been out of print for a number of years. 
 
 It will be remembered that Martin Hewitt is the detec 
 tive in "The Red Triangle," of whom the New York 
 Tribune said : " Better than Sherlock Holmes." His ad 
 ventures in the London slums were of such a nature that the 
 Philadelphia North American said: " The reader who has 
 a grain of fancy or imagination may be defied to lay this 
 book down once he has begun it until the last word is 
 reached." 
 
6 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY S LIST OF NEW FICTION 
 
 Mystery Island. By EDWARD H. HURST. 
 
 Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece . $1.50 
 
 A hunting camp on a swampy island in the Florida Ever 
 glades furnishes the background for this present-day tale. 
 
 By the murder of one of their number, the secret of 
 egress from the island is lost, and the campers find them 
 selves marooned. 
 
 Cut off from civilization, conventional veneer soon wears 
 away. Love, hate, and revenge spring up, and after the 
 sterner passions have had their sway the man and the woman 
 are left alone to fulfil their own destiny. 
 
 While there is much that is unusual in the plot and its 
 development, Mr. Hurst has handled his subject with fine 
 delicacy, and the tale of their love on the beautiful little 
 island is told with deep sympathy and feeling. 
 
 The Flying Cloud. By MORLEY ROBERTS, 
 author of " The Promotion of the Admiral," " Rachel 
 Marr," " The Idlers," etc. 
 
 Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece . $1.50 
 
 Mr. Roberts s new book is much more than a ripping 
 good sea story such as might be expected from the author 
 of " The Promotion of the Admiral." In " The Flying 
 Cloud" the waters and the winds are gods personified. 
 Their every mood and phase are described in words of tell 
 ing force. There is no world but the waste of waters. 
 
 Mr. Roberts glories and exults in the mystery, the pas 
 sion, the strength of the elements, as did the Viking chron 
 iclers of old. He understands them and loves them and 
 interprets them as no other writer has heretofore done. 
 The book is too big for conventional phrases. It needs 
 Mr. Roberts s own richness of imagery and masterly ex 
 pression to describe adequately the word-pictures in this 
 epic of wind and waves. 
 
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YB 73154 
 
 M555070 
 
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