877
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 V,
 
 THE MILLS 
 
 OF MAN
 
 THE MILLS 
 
 OF MAN 
 
 A TSTOVEL 
 
 Philip Payne 
 
 CHICAGO &>NEW YORK 
 <Rand TWNally & Co-
 
 Copyright^ /QQJ, 
 By Philip Payne.
 
 f>S 
 3531 
 
 Though the mills of God grind slowly , 
 Yet they grind exceeding small; 
 
 Though "with patience lie stands waiting y 
 With exactness grinds he all. 
 
 F. Von Logau (1614-1655). 
 
 733344
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 MRS. CORLIS 
 
 THE " limited " from New York for Chi 
 cago rushed across the Indiana prairies, 
 under its flashing wheels a crash of steel, 
 from its stunted stack a plume of smoke and steam. 
 The last car, attached by special order, was the 
 private car of J. J. Jarrett. 
 
 The summer sky was cloudless and the light that 
 fell from it a glare. The heat, likewise, was in 
 tense. And through this heat and light the swift 
 train ran on rails that glittered, while the rolling 
 blackness, belched from the locomotive, enveloped 
 the cars behind like the hair of a driving comet. 
 
 The shades of the private car were closely drawn, 
 to shut from the travelers within any hint of the 
 day without. Inside, indeed, except for the even 
 motion of the balanced car, existed slight indica 
 tion of the flying clamor. What air entered had 
 been cooled by electric fans and filtered free of 
 soot : in fact, whatever American invention could 
 accomplish to make pleasurable a transcontinental 
 journey, had been fulfilled in the construction and
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 appointments of Mr. Jarrett s private car, " Vic 
 toria." 
 
 The " Victoria " carried but one passenger this 
 journey, Mrs. Walter H. D. Corlis, the owner s 
 niece. And she passed the hours as in a state of 
 trance. She gave no orders, she desired no serv 
 ice, she refused to eat and had dismissed her maids 
 from attendance. She wanted but to be let alone, 
 to be left to lie in the half obscurity, companioned 
 only by her thoughts and by the monotonous, re 
 volving beat of the wheels beneath upon the metal 
 way. 
 
 She lay outstretched upon a bed in the middle 
 compartment of the car, prone upon her back, with 
 hands clasped beneath her head her figure in rig 
 idity not unlike those effigies of mediaeval ladies 
 atop of tombs. 
 
 But her released mind ran upon the rails of 
 thought more swiftly than the moving train could 
 glide. Yesterday, in New York, she had been 
 whirled about in a set of activities; to-morrow, in 
 Chicago, another set would seize her. The inter 
 lude of passage was as a punctuation point be 
 tween two sentences of her crowded life. She used 
 it for review. 
 
 It was a grave review, since in New York she 
 had learned what conduces to serious thought 
 the specialists had given her not more than a half- 
 year to live. She had gone up from Washington 
 
 8
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 to receive their verdict. Being a courageous spirit, 
 and, also, a woman not overweeningly in love with 
 life, she had taken the sentence coolly. The knowl 
 edge did not daunt her; it merely changed the cur 
 rent of her thoughts, unhinged her in a measure 
 from the world and, in the old phrase, rendered 
 her meet for repentance. 
 
 She had exacted from the physicians delay in in 
 forming her family and, from the latter, when 
 informed, she meant to exact disregard of her con 
 dition. She did not relish parade of woe, nor did 
 she wish to put any ostensible affection to the trial : 
 were she allowed her way, she would die without 
 preliminaries and minus flourishes. 
 
 Moreover, important events were at hand. Her 
 father was seeking reelection to the United States 
 Senate from Illinois, and her husband was fasten 
 ing his control upon his party in Chicago and look 
 ing out for mastery of the state at large. The 
 political convention, which would decide these mat 
 ters, met within ten days, and the campaign to 
 follow would absorb the summer and most of the 
 fall. In the approaching contest she had her part 
 to play, a part she had conceived in her harassed 
 father s interest, and she had vowed the hazard 
 of sickness and sympathy and anxiety on her own 
 account should not disturb the engrossment of the 
 players in the great game. 
 
 So Mrs. Corlis had determined. Yet, before she
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 put the doom from out the foreground of her 
 thoughts, she would employ the journey to sum 
 up conclusions upon some things. 
 
 A few were proved. Among them that her 
 convictions, as directed by experience, had circled 
 to their source again; for she recognized a little 
 humorously that what survived in her at last was 
 her Puritanism, what her husband was accustomed 
 contemptuously to denominate her " limit." 
 
 She found, now that its conclusion was inevita 
 ble, that she could put an estimate upon her life: 
 so much she knew it meant, so much she realized 
 was missing. She understood, for instance, why 
 she had married Mr. Corlis; it was exactly that 
 knowledge which repelled her now, and yet sub 
 dued her, when he was by, to his desires. She 
 understood why, while youth may seem charming 
 in its ideal aspirations, it must, of necessity, be 
 ignorant and cannot be unselfish. Through ignor 
 ance youth mistakes its heroes, and by reason of 
 self-absorption it must fail of moral beauty. 
 
 For after all, she was convinced, the secret of 
 life was moral and its success a thing of character. 
 She did not frame this dogma intolerantly, since 
 she had need of charity herself, and furthermore, 
 she was to her finger-tips a woman of the world. 
 Yet, discarding though she did the too literal 
 standards of a provincial or conventional morality, 
 she felt in her soul that all men and women must 
 
 10
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 be judged by this moral quality at last. Other 
 wise was not the world a materiality and human 
 life an outrage and a hideous farce? 
 
 In her youth before her marriage she had re 
 volted, mentally, against the restraints of Puritan 
 ism and its want of beauty. She had yearned for 
 enlargements; she had demanded color, passion, 
 outward dignities, expressed nobilities. She had 
 asserted the goodness of life and the possibilities 
 of the human spirit. Art was for delight, society 
 for pleasure, just as wine was for the delectation 
 of the palate and luxury for the delicate perfecvion 
 of the body. 
 
 Now, at forty years of age, she saw that the 
 great truths, formulated by the thinkers of the 
 Puritans, were truths still, though archaically 
 stated. And she, who had enjoyed much, who 
 had achieved more she would have given all, her 
 wealth, her satisfied ambition, the flattery she re 
 ceived, for the plain assurance that she was a 
 good woman in the old-fashioned sense, and that 
 her husband loved her, and that her children 
 thought of her as mother. 
 
 The afternoon declined and presently she grew 
 aware that Chicago must be near. She girded up 
 her will, dismissing from her mind what might 
 have been and what she would be pleased to have, 
 to face what was and what could not be changed. 
 She was again the Mrs. Corlis the world knew. 
 
 ii
 
 II 
 
 MR. CORLIS. 
 
 THE train entered the vast cave of sheet-iron, 
 which was the station. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis appeared upon the platform 
 of her car and obsequious porters helped her down 
 the steps, while the conductor, with a hand to the 
 visor of his cap, stood bowing. 
 
 She afforded a picture as she advanced up the 
 long causeway between the tracks, followed by a 
 retinue of maids and servants and a stout brace of 
 porters. She was so obviously the modern divin 
 ity, the choicest development of the American cul 
 ture of wealth; she could be assured and gracious, 
 since she required no touch of hauteur to enforce 
 her dignity. Whoever saw her felt who she was 
 and yielded precedence willingly. 
 
 She wore a gray traveling gown and a gray hat, 
 whose shades corresponded with the silver-gray 
 of her hair. She was tall and rather strongly built 
 in the shoulders and hips, the waist a bit too long, 
 her hands perhaps too large. But distinction quali 
 fied her not alone the factitious distinction which 
 attends social eminence as diamonds do money, 
 but the essential distinction of spirit and of mind. 
 
 12
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Mrs. Corlis had achieved two different successes, 
 and there was that in her bearing which was in 
 dicative of each. In her youth, in Washington, 
 she had won reputation for her wit and cleverness, 
 her sense for politics and her perception of talent. 
 Since her marriage (she was now forty and had 
 been married fifteen years) she had become recog 
 nized as preeminently a manager: she had man 
 aged society in Washington and at Newport, she 
 had made a place for herself in New York, and 
 had, by degrees, come to be one of those half- 
 dozen women in America who lead society and 
 control fashion. 
 
 " I wonder where Walter can be," she was 
 thinking, as she approached the ticket-puncher s 
 barrier which marked the termination of the cause 
 way. Just then she spied him hastening towards 
 the gate, and a smile curved her frank lips and 
 gladdened her dark eyes. 
 
 Ah, after all, what a man he looked, was her 
 thought. How well he moved; how symmetrical 
 his figure; and, as he came near, how handsome 
 his features! She felt his fascination; she greeted 
 it with an undiminished joy : it had always been 
 thus; it would be to the end. In his presence she 
 did not ask why he dominated her life; she ac 
 cepted the fact almost thankfully. Her rebellions, 
 her criticisms of him, all resulted in this he had 
 but to appear. 
 
 13
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Mr. Corlis welcomed his wife, whom he had 
 not seen for months, as he might have welcomed 
 a confidential friend. His manner made evident 
 that he trusted her infinitely, was fond of her, 
 within limits. She on the other hand did not 
 measure her greeting; she smiled up into his face, 
 her eyes affectionate, her features glowing. But 
 he ignored her fervor. 
 
 Victoria, I am glad you are here; I am in 
 urgent need of advice." These were his first 
 words. 
 
 " Oh, Walter," she begged with a charming 
 expression of disappointment, " for no other rea 
 son, pray? " 
 
 " Oh, don t be a two months bride," he chided 
 laughingly. " I have altogether too much need of 
 your brain to wish to cloud it with sentiment." 
 
 She winced under the phrase, and, to hide her 
 pain, turned to the servants. 
 
 The carriage, William, and Jones, see that 
 the luggage is sent up at once." 
 
 What a town," she remarked to her husband, 
 as the carriage advanced through the streets, 
 " clamor and smoke and no pavements, and yet, 
 do you know, after the smug East I fancy its 
 heathen license for a change. The Democracy is 
 fierce and free in Chicago." 
 
 Characteristically, Mr. Corlis replied with a 
 subject of his own: 
 
 14
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " I suppose you are too tired to allow me to 
 bring a man home to dinner." 
 
 She wanted him to herself, but she did not show 
 disappointment. 
 
 " That depends somewhat upon whom the in 
 truder may be," she replied, smiling. 
 
 "Oh, he will amuse you; he s Mike McBride, 
 Boss McBride," explained Mr. Corlis. " He will 
 be flattered; McBride s Irish enough to long to 
 be a gentleman. A little attention from you will 
 excite his profuse gratitude." 
 
 That is not so bad," she said after a moment s 
 consideration. "A Boss will be novel; he can 
 hardly prove boresome. Besides, it suits me, I 
 fancy; I may interest your buccaneer in a little 
 plot on my own account." 
 
 Mr. Corlis smiled subtly, but he refrained from 
 questions. 
 
 Very well then," he acquiesced, " you will not 
 find McBride impervious to social influence, ex 
 ercised by such a mistress of it as yourself. And 
 if it s arranged, will you excuse me from further 
 attendance and set me down here? This is the 
 Washington and LaSalle corner. You know," he 
 responded to the objection in her eyes, " how busy 
 I am up to my ears with the State Convention 
 but ten days off, and the whole of Cook County to 
 get and to keep in line." 
 
 Until now she had not seen her husband since
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 February, when he had spent a week, less a day, 
 in Washington. That winter and spring she had 
 passed with her father, although in her own house, 
 at the capital; but Mr. Corlis had been so deeply 
 engaged in business that he could not leave Chi 
 cago. In fact, now that he had entered Illinois 
 politics, it was part of his policy conspicuously to 
 identify himself with Chicago life. He desired to 
 dissipate the latent suspicion, that, if not a legal, 
 he might be an actual alien to the state and to the 
 West. Necessity for conformity he felt to be the 
 greater, inasmuch as his wife preferred the East 
 and was supposed to be inclined to eschew the so 
 ciety of the Western " Porkopolis," or, at least, 
 to refuse to be identified with it. 
 
 The carriage proceeded with Mrs. Corlis alone. 
 Yet for her it remained filled with his presence; 
 and then, as the impression of his personality 
 faded, she sought to retain it in vividness by re 
 hearsing its each dear detail: the deep tones of 
 his voice ; the gray tinting of his face ; the proud 
 arch of the head between the closely-fitting ears; 
 the dark hair, grown thin, and thereby increasing 
 his distinction; the square, clear chin beneath the 
 close-cropped mustache; the turquoise colored 
 eyes, with their cold light, shaded by dark brows 
 and lashes; the full neck like a column; the broad 
 chest, where so often her head had lain; the 
 shoulders, strong enough to block a rush, graceful 
 
 16
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 enough to fit a Hermes that conjunction, in fine, 
 which she had never seen so well expressed in any 
 other man; that superb union which fascinated 
 her, of force and elegance, of brutality and re 
 finement, of the luxurious susceptibility belonging 
 to an Aaron Burr and the cold intellectuality 
 characteristic of Jay Gould. 
 
 The very lines of his figure and the modeling 
 of his features, did they not set forth the recon 
 ciliation of opposing qualities in the man? He 
 was black and white, passionate yet cool, ardent but 
 tenacious, genial yet selfish, vain but hardly to 
 be beguiled by flattery. His profile, a little dis 
 tance off, showed aquiline, chiseled in the regularity 
 of a Roman Caesar. Nearer, it revealed curves, 
 so slight as to seem elusive, so faint as to exclude 
 softness, yet sufficient to denote love of sensual 
 things. 
 
 The carriage crossed the river to the North Side 
 and gained the wide avenue of the Lake Shore 
 Drive. It stopped before the great house J. J. 
 Jarrett had built for his niece; but Mrs. Corlis, 
 looking out, hated its magnificence. 
 
 Upstairs in her dressing room, before she rang 
 for her maid, she turned herself critically in front 
 of the long glass. Ruthlessly she put the ques 
 tion: Could she condemn a man for his failure 
 to remain in love with that woman the glass 
 revealed? With candor cruel to herself she 
 
 17
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 pressed the consideration home. At all costs she 
 would be just, just to the man. Was she not proud 
 of possessing the robust mind and magnanimous 
 temper which enabled her to sympathize with mas 
 culinity and to condone its weaknesses? 
 
 She scanned from crown to sole the image in 
 the glass. She catalogued every positive point 
 the white hair that lent a powdered eighteenth- 
 century grace; the lustrous eyes with their depths 
 of passion and their humorous scintillations; the 
 patent intelligence. But, with contemptuous jus 
 tice, she also found in that worldly, kindly, intel 
 lectual woman no least trace of the fascinating doll 
 or the seductive mistress. She could hardly require 
 a man to be overpowered by the impulse to pet 
 such a woman or to dote upon her as the object 
 of his passions. She knew she was the closest 
 friend her husband had; she could not wonder he 
 did not come to her for dalliance. 
 
 Yet she looked again, and the next compart 
 ment of her mind dared to form the query, whether 
 some man, more spiritual, should she say, or more 
 profound, might not discover in her, as she stood 
 there, some tragic import, some pathetic splendor, 
 transcending lust of eye and touch? 
 
 At that reflection she drew herself up scornfully, 
 tall and wasted as she was. A great and almost 
 objective pity moved her for the woman in the 
 glass, a pity touched with pride. For the woman 
 
 18
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 had so much brain and heart and power and 
 wealth, and yet she was denied that common thing 
 which silly women shared with queens of charm, 
 which any hussy on the street might have to sell 
 or give away the seduction of the flesh. 
 
 Then the pious inclination in her blood reproved 
 her gently for her pity of herself and for her 
 pride s assertion. She had reaped what she had 
 sown.
 
 Ill 
 
 THE BOSS 
 
 LADIES of a dainty breeding and of the deli 
 cate refinement of mind which is, fortunately 
 or unfortunately, being considered an attri 
 bute of a past generation, have been known to 
 impute some vulgarity to Mrs. Corlis, or to com 
 ment, at least, on her lack of " tone." True, Mrs. 
 Corlis was both modern and of the world; if she 
 possessed fastidiousness, she seldom allowed it to 
 exclude any phase of the world, however super 
 ficially distasteful. That toleration, or sympathy, 
 which she had, might offend some as lacking in 
 discrimination; to others it appeared to constitute 
 a meritorious catholicity of mind and temper. 
 
 The Black Boss " of Chicago did, to be sure, 
 resemble an opulent bartender or some retired po 
 lice captain; but his hostess immediately decided 
 that she liked the man. She had ever possessed 
 a weakness for human bulldogs. 
 
 Mr. McBride carried an aldermanic paunch and 
 a swollen neck, creased by circles running all the 
 way around; yet he was nimble on his feet and 
 equally ready with his flattery. However, it was 
 not his glibness with compliments that recom- 
 
 20
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 mended him to the favor of his hostess, but the 
 Celtic blue of his clear eyes and the vague pathos 
 which informs so many Irish faces and which may 
 indicate an artless ideality or merely an alcoholic 
 thirst. 
 
 Otherwise " Mike " McBride was a big, black, 
 burly brute, with a heavy jowl, coarse hair, a thick 
 mustache, and the short, curved beak of a fighting 
 brigadier. The man was a policeman s club. Yet 
 a vast diplomacy was expressed, somehow, in the 
 broad slope of the Irish shoulders, and those un 
 lettered lips of his had, beyond doubt, kissed the 
 blarney stone. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis evoked his latent gallantry and 
 under her management he displayed the astonish 
 ing adaptability of his race. She enforced awe, 
 but his excessive reverence did not crush him to 
 the carpet; it rather served to inspire him to rise 
 to the high pitch of the occasion. In other words, 
 the rough Boss demonstrated that he was not de 
 void of a rudimentary social instinct. 
 
 The situation amused Mr. Corlis hugely, as his 
 wife perceived. He and McBride, she saw, got 
 on famously; they " hit it off " well together, and 
 for a time she was at a loss to discover what com 
 munity of spirit could exist between this unpolished 
 diamond of the Chicago river wards and the most 
 sophisticated gentleman she had ever known. The 
 solution burst upon her like a divination before 
 
 21
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 the dinner was half through, and involuntarily she 
 laughed to herself. 
 
 " What a pair," she reflected, " what a partner 
 ship, to persuade a common council, to corrupt an 
 electorate, to plunder a public, to seduce a legisla 
 ture, to bestride a community ! Small wonder is it 
 that the two have built up a marvel of a machine ! 
 What chance has an abject, defenseless community 
 against such an able brace of pirates? " 
 
 That her vision was so unhesitating, was char 
 acteristic of Mrs. Corlis; for she was not one of 
 those good fools of women who spend stolen 
 money unctuously, believing it to be just gain. 
 That clear perception should produce no severe 
 shock to her morality was likewise characteristic, 
 although it is to be said that such callousness of 
 conscience (if it is to be so broadly styled), was 
 due as much to the accident of her environment 
 and the toleration of her mind as to any essential 
 deficiency of nature. 
 
 Presently, borrowing the spirit of her husband 
 and Boss McBride, she caught the contagion of 
 the game. She had already set the Boss at ease 
 by her cordiality and consideration, and the power 
 to do so she enjoyed in all the kindliness of her 
 heart. She entered into the humor of the situation, 
 too, sharing it with her husband and delighting 
 in it like a man. 
 
 McBride proved a " good fellow." If he sus- 
 22
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 pected that he was furnishing entertainment in a 
 form too subtle for himself to grasp, he did not 
 resent the possibility in the least, but was amiable 
 enough to be pleased that he could fulfill an actual 
 function in such exalted company. " Indeed," his 
 hostess genially concluded, " the creature s irre 
 sistible and knows it very well." 
 
 Gradually the conversation took a serious tone, 
 enabling Mrs. Corlis to remark, 
 
 " I have wondered very often how you manage, 
 Mr. McBride. I understand an orator s influence 
 or a debater s in a legislative hall; I can even im 
 agine how a man of great executive capacity must 
 proceed. But, I confess, the methods by which 
 you organization leaders direct the masses of a. 
 great city are beyond my comprehension. How 
 is it done, pray? You must master all sorts and 
 styles of men and magnetize the mob as well, I 
 take it. What more? Where s the secret? I 
 think it marvelous. As a mere feat of leadership 
 it excels, to my mind, most others in America. 
 Now, Mr. McBride " the flattering innuendo 
 was bewitching " you must take pity on my curi 
 osity and tell me just how you do it and what is the 
 mysterious secret of your power." 
 
 The gross Boss shivered with pure ecstasy, like 
 a debutante accepting her first florid compliment 
 from a man of thirty-five. In sheer embarrass 
 ment he winked at Mr. Corlis, while a pleased 
 
 23
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 smile spread thickly from under his stubbed mus 
 tache up to his Irish eyes. 
 
 " Indeed, I m at a loss to let you know, Mrs. 
 Corlis. I just let the boys understand what orders 
 have got to be obeyed, and they go out and get 
 em done. That s all." 
 
 " But if they didn t, it would not be all," amend 
 ed Mr. Corlis, with a smile. 
 
 " Well, I should say not," responded the Boss 
 in an enlarged tone. What s the organization 
 fit for, I m askin , if it don t get orders carried 
 out? Without orders from me and obeyin em 
 by the boys, the organization d be on the bum 
 in no time at all. And the boys, if orders ain t 
 obeyed on the scratch, know there s goin to be 
 the worst kind of rough house." Under her ad 
 miring eye he summed up the theory of his gen 
 eralship, " I don t stop to lead em; I drive em, 
 Mrs. Corlis, and that s about how it s done, I 
 guess." 
 
 "But what gives you the power?" she per 
 sisted, aware that she was playing on the master 
 chord of his self-love. " Why are you boss instead 
 of some other man? Why do they fear and love 
 you so much that they remain loyal to you ? Why, 
 in other words, are you you?" 
 
 McBride dilated under such appreciation. 
 
 "Oh, it ain t me; it s the organization," he 
 24
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 protested. " Every feller that belongs to it knows 
 that to get the benefits there has got to be a Boss." 
 
 " But why are you Boss? What is the magic 
 you employ? " Womanlike, she ascribed his dom 
 inance to personality, to individual power, ignor 
 ing, or disdaining, the institution and the conditions 
 that support the institution. 
 
 "Why me?" echoed McBride in some sur 
 prise. " Why, because I fill the bill, I guess. It 
 was fought to a finish years ago, and since I 
 cleaned out Tim Murphy in the Tenth Ward, 
 the boys have all been unanimous for peace and 
 harmony. My word goes everywhere, see? If 
 there wasn t no call for bosses, there wouldn t be 
 none. And if the organization was run like a re. 
 form meetin , where each yap that wants to can 
 make a holler, the boys would have to be after 
 seekin other bizness openin s, I guess. They 
 know that." 
 
 " Yet organization, important as it is, is not 
 all," Mrs. Corlis contended. " An engine, how 
 ever perfect, requires steam to keep it going." 
 
 McBride s intellect seized the concrete com 
 parison. 
 
 " I should say it did," he agreed. " And don t 
 you forget it, I give em steam, regular, every 
 hour. How d it go, if I let up for a day, I m 
 askin . Men are born a lazy lot and you ve got 
 
 25
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 to prod em up, right along. That s why they 
 need a Boss." 
 
 " There is little doubt but that Chicago enjoys 
 one," observed Mr. Corlis, facetiously. 
 
 " I don t mean there should," rejoined the Boss 
 with grimness. " It wouldn t do. Them fellers 
 has got to know for certain in their minds where 
 orders comes from or the spokes d fly out all 
 round quicker than a fire alarm goes oft." 
 
 They know rest assured they know," chuck 
 led Mr. Corlis, " and you don t use any feather 
 in hammering the notion into their heads at that, 
 McBride." 
 
 The Boss smiled pleasantly, and, on further 
 thought, deemed it necessary to offer some apol 
 ogy for the lady s sake. 
 
 " I hope I ain t as bad as them reformers and 
 newspaper fellers make me out, Mrs. Corlis. 
 There s a lot of people who don t know what it 
 is to be in politics that s what the matter is. 
 They re ignorant, they are. Suppose I undertook 
 to teach em how to run their department stores, 
 their banks and newspapers, they d set up an al 
 mighty howl, I m tellin you. They d say I was an 
 ignorant cuss and a vulgar plug-ugly, and all those 
 other choice pet names they keep on ice especially 
 for me." 
 
 But you can afford to ignore abuse," Mrs. 
 26
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Corlis said consolingly. " Everybody, nowadays, 
 expects to be assailed." 
 
 Well, I don t mind none at all what they say 
 about me in connection with the organization," 
 declared McBride. " That s part of what s 
 comin to you in the bizness, I guess. What raises 
 my hair ain t that at all it s for them college 
 fellers and literary yaps a-sayin in their lives of 
 me how I was born an illiterate Irishman and 
 have stayed so up to date. It ain t the lies, I m 
 tellin you, tis the truth about a feller that stings 
 like pepper in the eyes." 
 
 " So much the more credit to you for making 
 yourself what you are, Mr. McBride," asserted 
 his hostess, quickly and with feeling. 
 
 That don t help none," he dissented dolefully. 
 It s true, that s the worst of it. When I begun 
 life I was only an Irishman, and now I ve sent my 
 boys to college and helped make em gentlemen, 
 and then them reformers go and make a shame of 
 me to my sons. Beggin you ll excuse me, Mrs. 
 Corlis, I hope, if there s to be any of them dum 
 reformers up in heaven, I ll be put out before I 
 get let in." 
 
 " I m hanged if I blame you ! " exclaimed Mr. 
 Corlis. 
 
 " Nor I," declared his wife with equal em 
 phasis. 
 
 And she related how her own father had come 
 27
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 up from the bottom and had managed, somehow, 
 to educate himself between labors. She spoke of 
 the struggle of his youth, its deprivations and its 
 sacrifices, and of how meager were his first suc 
 cesses. And as she recounted the story, so common 
 in America, she directed now and then a challeng 
 ing glance at Mr. Corlis, realizing that nothing 
 was to him so distasteful as the publication of the 
 rural origin of her family, although in private he 
 was not above taunting her, occasionally, with her 
 plebeian blood and explaining thereby some of her 
 idiosyncrasies. 
 
 But McBride refused the sympathetic pallia 
 tion. 
 
 "That s good to hear, Mrs. Corlis; but the 
 Senator s different from me. He ain t illiterate 
 and he ain t Irish, no matter how hard up he was 
 born. I m that proud of my Irish, though when 
 it s put as it ought, as an honor and not as a slur. 
 A boss s a boss, though I ain t sayin it s bad as a 
 bizness. But a senator s a statesman and orna 
 mental to the country. And I ll say this for Sen 
 ator Dawes, though he s fought me bitter for fif 
 teen years he s a man his state honors; he s the 
 grand old man of Illinois." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis glowed; the dearest pride she con 
 fessed was her father s fame. 
 
 " I thank you, Mr. McBride, for your gener 
 ous tribute, and I am confident that when I let my 
 
 28
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 father know how beautifully you have spoken of 
 him, he will be greatly pleased. Indeed, if you 
 will allow me to speak frankly, I am more than 
 half persuaded it is my duty to make you two 
 good friends. A woman is a natural mediator, is 
 she not? " 
 
 Praise of his chivalry in speaking well of his 
 enemy had warmed the cockles of his Irish heart; 
 but, when she suggested mediation, she touched 
 his shrewdness. The Boss smiled a different smile 
 as he looked again at her and hung his head a 
 little to one side. 
 
 " That s appertainin to politics, I guess, and 
 bizness ain t related to good feelin . I ve enjoyed 
 the best of feller-feelin for some friends of mine 
 I meant to rip up the back the next election day. 
 Same now with the Senator. He s fought the or 
 ganization with every weapon for the last ten 
 year, and he never would consent to let me set 
 down at the national dinner table. Personal 
 feelin is all for you, Mrs. Corlis, but I ain t foot 
 loose. I m tied up by my duty to the organiza 
 tion." 
 
 " But has not the time about arrived for a new 
 deal all around? " suggested Mr. Corlis softly. 
 
 " Has it? " replied the Boss, dubiously. 
 
 " I trust so," Mrs. Corlis stated. " At least 
 I m hopeful that much misconstruction on both 
 sides may be removed and that old enmities may 
 
 29
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 die. And I am certain, Mr. McBride, your words 
 to-night of respect for my father s services and 
 character will go far towards obliterating in his 
 mind the effect of years of misunderstanding and 
 misrepresentation fomented by your enemies and 
 kept alive by parties interested in keeping you two 
 apart. He has learned, I know, to respect your 
 resolution and abilities, Mr. McBride, and he esti 
 mates most highly the influence that you wield." 
 
 McBride cleared his throat. 
 
 " Humph, I m dead willin , Mrs. Corlis," he 
 announced. " I don t cherish no hard feelin s 
 against the Senator, myself, and I d extend him 
 the glad hand to-morrow mornin sure, and prom 
 ise him the backin of the organization where he d 
 most want it, if he d agree to stand in with us for 
 good, and see we got our share down at Spring 
 field, and steer us up around to the White House 
 whenever we wanted to pay a call. The trouble 
 up to date has been, Mrs. Corlis, and I don t 
 blame him none for it, the Senator was in politics 
 for glory and he never would consent to hear we 
 wasn t in it for our health."
 
 IV 
 
 MR. CORLIS ON POLITICS 
 
 LUXURIOUS inclination made of Mr. Cor- 
 lis a lazy animal, except when aroused by 
 the pleasures of society or the greed of gain. 
 Normally he remained a drowsy force ; at intervals 
 he became a whirlwind of energy. In such intense 
 periods his great powers were used with concen 
 tration, in order to dispatch the business finally 
 and with effect, and to enable himself to live at 
 ease again. 
 
 He sauntered into his wife s room after the 
 Boss had gone. She was idly turning over the 
 leaves of a French novel, while she w r aited for her 
 maid. She looked up to welcome him with a 
 smile, but he made no articulate response until he 
 had elaborately stretched himself out at full length 
 upon the sofa. There, lying on his back, he 
 puffed milky rings of smoke upward at the ceil 
 ing and drawled an occasional observation at his 
 wife. 
 
 Many of their conferences were conducted in 
 this manner. Mrs. Corlis liked them for the inti 
 macy they entailed. And while he looked at noth-
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ing, or the ceiling, she looked at him, admiring at 
 her leisure the vigor of his manhood the deep 
 curve of his chest, the well-shaped limbs, his 
 sinewy neck, the high arch of the head, the gray 
 tinting of his features with their marmorean sur 
 faces. 
 
 " Rather regal you are to-night, Victoria," he 
 remarked, his eyes at a point of the ceiling. " Dia 
 monds and other trappings all for McBride !" 
 
 " Pearls before swine, you mean? Oh, I fancy 
 not. What most impresses a barbarian, Wal 
 ter?" 
 
 " Exactly, Victoria you produced the effect 
 intended; you succeeded. The Boss regards you 
 as the Queen of Sheba, or, in his vernacular, the 
 whole thing." He turned his head to glance at 
 her. " What is your game? " 
 
 " Why do you ask," she rejoined, " since you 
 know as well as if I had explained it to you spe 
 cifically?" 
 
 " Merely because I wondered if the Senator 
 had actually sent you out to rig up a treaty with 
 McBride," said Mr. Corlis, so drily it might have 
 been a sneer. " The grand old man of Illi 
 nois humph, he should be dubbed the sly old 
 fox! Pardon me, I know you dislike to have me 
 speak flippantly of the Anointed of the Lord." 
 He chuckled, turned back his head and blew a 
 vast cloud ceilingward. 
 
 32
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She ignored the pain his words caused her, but 
 she hastened to deny the imputed fact. 
 
 " I assure you, Walter, the Pater has not the 
 least idea of this. It has not even occurred to 
 him to so much as mention the name of Mr. Me- 
 Bride to me or in my presence." 
 
 Then why, allow me to ask," responded 
 her husband coolly, " do you talk as you do to 
 McBride, if you cannot speak authoritatively? 
 Excuse me, but you only misrepresent the Senator, 
 and, to use the slang, put him in a hole with Mc 
 Bride. Besides, your method is not well consid 
 ered; for if you want to influence the Boss, you 
 must be prepared with substantial propositions. 
 McBride is only sentimental on top; at bottom 
 he s a cool trader." 
 
 Mr. Corlis tone was disinterested. 
 
 " I confess it is altogether my own scheme," 
 admitted Mrs. Corlis, almost crestfallenly " but 
 I have thought it all out, Walter, and there is no 
 other way." 
 
 Mr. Corlis bit hard on his cigar. 
 
 ; If the old fox hasn t lost his patriarchal cun 
 ning, he ll see that as well as you," he muttered, 
 perhaps reluctantly. 
 
 Again her eyes showed, momentarily, how his 
 phrase hurt; but she repressed her impulse to pro 
 test in order to explain. 
 
 " Since Governor Ransom and the Pater split 
 
 33
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 on this wretched silver question, Walter, the old 
 combination that has worked well so long, no 
 longer holds. Consequently the Pater must find 
 a compensation for the loss of Egypt, and where 
 can he hope to balance it unless here in Chicago? " 
 
 " It needs no marvelous penetration to discover 
 that," said Mr. Corlis. 
 
 She spoke eagerly, 
 
 The Pater must be reflected, Walter. He 
 has had five terms in the Senate and has twice 
 been governor. He is an old man now, and if he 
 loses, it will break his heart. He deserves a re 
 election at the hands of the state he has served so 
 faithfully, and, you know, the Senate chamber has 
 become like home to him. If he is not returned 
 he will be crushed; he ll die within a year." 
 
 " No need of melodrama about it in the least, 
 Victoria," advised Mr. Corlis lazily. " The prob 
 abilities all favor him. He knows a trick or two; 
 he s up to every device known in the game; he s 
 slippery and surpassingly smooth. No man can 
 say he has ever beaten Uncle Simeon yet, al 
 though many have been certain they would get 
 his brush before the old fox ran to cover. He has 
 always had the laugh on them." 
 
 The levity of the characterization was too much 
 for Mrs. Corlis. 
 
 "Don t, Walter, don t, I implore! Have you 
 no least reverence for age and reputation? " 
 
 34
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Mr. Corlis writhed gently on the sofa and 
 puffed jets of smoke in his delight. 
 
 " I know you believe the Senator is a great 
 man. Pure family pride, Victoria ! True, I must 
 admit that as a deft old hand at politics he has 
 skinned all his contemporaries the scalps of his 
 rivals adorn his belt. But, I fancy, he is now a 
 trifle out of date; getting a bit obsolete, you 
 know. However, in his heyday your distin 
 guished father was the cock of the walk, there s 
 no denying that." 
 
 You are a denying spirit, Walter; your tongue 
 belittles everything," asserted Mrs. Corlis, with 
 some indignation. The Pater is no mere poli 
 tician; were he to die to-morrow, he would be 
 ranked as one of the statesmen of the nation." 
 
 " Certainly, Victoria, his fame would be se 
 cure," agreed Mr. Corlis, in a most correct tone. 
 " Tom Reed defined a statesman as a politician 
 dead twenty years. Occasionally even, a poli 
 tician may get canonized before he s dead. The 
 Senator, perhaps, is such an one. He has kept him 
 self in office forty years and never once been 
 out; he has known how to get on the right side 
 of every question that has come up, and every 
 parlous issue he s side-stepped. Then consider 
 what an artist he has been at helping rising men 
 to power and at using their gratitude to boost him 
 self. When, in turn, they reached the end of their 
 
 35
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 rope and lost their grip, he knew how promptly 
 to forget them. Oh, the Senator s a bird ! " 
 
 "Walter! " 
 
 She was wounded to the heart, yet for her life 
 she could not help smiling. 
 
 Her husband turned his head far enough to 
 catch her smile. He was emboldened. 
 
 " Now, there is your old-time friend and quon 
 dam lover, Governor Ransom; his case ll serve 
 to adorn my moral and point my tale. Who 
 helped Ransom up, I say? Senator Dawes, to be 
 sure. Who reelected Uncle Simeon to the Senate 
 six years ago? Governor Ransom whom would 
 you expect? Ransom is finishing his second term 
 as governor, and how is he now? About to join 
 the company of defunct politicians and ancient 
 lights, I take it, along with Sam Thurston and 
 Black Dan Hawkins and E. S. Blodgett, and all 
 the rest that your doughty Uncle Simeon has 
 gloriously survived, you bet." 
 
 Mr. Corlis tossed himself emphatically upon 
 the sofa and his wife felt, herself, as if the last 
 word had been said. 
 
 Presently, however, she ventured in rather an 
 apologetic voice, 
 
 " Politics must have its dark side, I suppose, 
 but why insist upon seeing that side alone? Dirty 
 work, as they call it, is a necessity in everything; 
 it is an element even in the church, I m told." 
 
 36
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Naturally," he responded. " The unique dis 
 tinction of politics, however, is that all the work 
 is dirty dirty work without a chance for heroics. 
 High statesmanship s a myth, like many other 
 bombastic things. The trouble is, you women 
 never know the world, the world as it is not 
 even you, Victoria." He sent his wife an admir 
 ing glance, perhaps in amends for his iconoclasm. 
 
 She was appreciative, even as nowadays she 
 was thankful for an occasional caress from the 
 man she loved. She smiled back into his eyes. 
 
 " Maybe, Walter; but it is well for you men 
 some of us women can retain our illusions of life." 
 
 " Ah, that s another proposition." Mr. Corlis 
 dismissed the discussion with a chuckle. 
 
 Suddenly he swung his feet to the floor and 
 sat up, his jaw seeming very square and his fore 
 head unusually high. He looked intently towards 
 his wife. 
 
 " I ll tell you who is needed now, Victoria, who 
 is the man of the time. It is the manager. Every 
 dog his day ! The day for the orator and pee- 
 pul " he used the exact pronunciation of the Sen 
 ator " is done. The rhetorical Pharisee no 
 longer has the old-fashioned pious constituency to 
 which to make his appeal; it does not exist. Chi 
 cago is a long ways off from Yankeedom, and the 
 agriculturists themselves, nowadays, are on the 
 make. He smiled a trifle grimly as well as with 
 
 37
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 his wonted superciliousness. " I ll tell you what, 
 Victoria, if you are bent on reelecting your father, 
 you had better settle with me. I am the man." 
 
 He cast her a look of power, then got slowly 
 to his feet, stretching out his muscular arms in 
 graceful abandon. Mrs. Corlis thought of the 
 yawn of a beautiful tiger. 
 
 Then you will aid me, Walter? You must. 
 It is in the family, you know, and Uncle Johnny 
 is interested." 
 
 He glared at her suddenly. Something like a 
 snarl came into his voice. 
 
 "I must, must I? I am the family s humble 
 servant, I suppose; the serviceable catspaw to 
 drag the chestnuts out of the fire, whenever your 
 distinguished father and your opulent uncle com 
 mand." 
 
 She soothed his injured susceptibility. 
 You mistake, Walter dear. We greatly need 
 your help, that is all. All of us recognize your 
 power. Uncle Johnny often talks to me of your 
 exceptional talent for handling men, especially of 
 the McBride type; he credits you with a positive 
 genius for that sort of thing." 
 
 Mr. Corlis allowed himself to be easily molli 
 fied, and, perceiving how much he relished praise 
 of this sort, she continued to please him. He 
 never allowed his vanity to intrude upon practical 
 business, and few who came in contact with the 
 
 38
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 cool, adroit man of affairs had suspected how 
 much he indulged his vanity at home. No small 
 part of his intimate association with his wife was 
 consumed in rehearsals of his achievements and his 
 projects. She listened and admired always; in 
 deed, her constant appreciation constituted her sin 
 gle hold upon him. 
 
 Now, in an enthusiasm of self-love, skillfully 
 directed to the attainment of a concrete end, he 
 crossed the room to his wife and stood over her. 
 Her dark eyes, looking up into his face, expressed 
 her pride in him. 
 
 Victoria," he declared, " if I can influence 
 McBride, you can twist Mr. Jarrett around your 
 finger twice. Do lit des, as was Bismarck s motto. 
 I will engage to have the Senator endorsed in the 
 Convention, if you will interest your Uncle Johnny 
 in my new scheme. Is it a go? " 
 
 " What a veritable Jew you are ! " she pro 
 tested, laughing, but with avowed acquiescence in 
 whatever he might desire in her eyes. He was so 
 compelling when he was in earnest, and it was 
 that compulsion that she loved. Moreover, she 
 welcomed anticipatively the association this new 
 partnership would bring her, knowing well that to 
 share his mind and ambitions constituted her main 
 and single chance with him. 
 
 " Let me tell you," he commenced. He touched 
 her knees and gesticulated about her head as he 
 
 39
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 talked. He sketched the project for whose sup 
 port he desired the credit and capital of J. J. Jar- 
 rett. His strokes were swift and vigorously pre 
 cise. His grasp, his cold enthusiasm, fixed his 
 wife s imagination. The glimpses afforded into 
 the complicated machinery of a vigorous mind 
 affected her more powerfully than even the mag 
 nitude of the plan itself, masterly as was its pre 
 sentation and daring as appeared its scope. 
 
 The cold electricity propelled from the great 
 schemer s brain, entering her nerves, was trans 
 formed into emotion. And to her ardent sym 
 pathy Mr. Corlis opened the bottom secrets of his 
 mind, so that she recognized, with a gasp of ter 
 ror as much as of astonishment, the vast ambitions 
 crouching there like tense springs ready to uncoil. 
 The projected combination he had outlined he 
 meant should serve him for a pedestal; on it a 
 future would be based, a future such as few would 
 dare dream. The mastery of finance, the control 
 of the commerce of America, perhaps politically 
 the Presidency of the United States itself, were 
 the finalities involved. 
 
 Against the magnitude of this adventuring am 
 bition, this Napoleonic thought, the man loomed 
 large to Mrs. Corlis so large that quibbles con 
 cerning his rectitude suddenly appeared evidence 
 of littleness in herself. His sheer dimensions re 
 duced her sentimental questionings and her wom- 
 
 40
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 an s scruples to wretched ignobilities, for which 
 she felt ashamed. 
 
 She had time to feel so much, before she was 
 swept out upon seas illimitable under majestic 
 skies. She lost consciousness of self, forgot mor 
 ality, justice; his glory and his might absorbed, 
 consumed her. She sprang to her feet. 
 
 Walter, oh, Walter!" she cried, and flung 
 herself upon him, kissing his hands and face in 
 ecstasy. 
 
 With arms locked about his neck and leaning 
 off, she perused the meaning of his countenance. 
 
 " I am your partner and your ally, something 
 more than your mere wife. It is proved, since I 
 demand no narrow moralities of you. What I 
 demand is only that you be grander, prouder, 
 more splendid than other men. And what is 
 sweetest to me is that I can aid, not in wish and 
 thought and prayer, but in actuality, in truth. Oh, 
 I would slave and charm and almost cheat for 
 you ! I will make Uncle Johnny do what you 
 wish. He shall, he must, or I am no niece of 
 his!"
 
 THE BOSS AT HOME 
 
 THE " Black Boss " sat at home in his own 
 house, in the basement, in the dining-room, 
 in a big, cane-bottomed chair, drawn close 
 sideways to the table. He sat comfortably 
 in his shirt-sleeves and thus exposed the power 
 of his neck and shoulders and the depth of his 
 paunch. A big, black cigar was set well in his 
 mouth, while upon the table, scarcely cleared of 
 the supper dishes, stood, directly at his elbow, a 
 huge stein of German beer. Through the half- 
 open kitchen door sounded the clatter of china, 
 for his wife was " doing up the dishes " in the ab 
 sence of the " hired girl " on a Sunday night. 
 
 The Boss, as he sat and ruminated, looked like 
 a big, sad dog who needed a patting on the head. 
 His amorphous black poll, his chaotic counte 
 nance, in which Celtic pathos and Celtic idealism 
 indescribably mingled with so much dross, with 
 such coarseness and such vulgar passion, indicated 
 the powerful and contradictory personality of the 
 man. 
 
 His immediate mood, however, was most equa 
 ble, nay, even smugly self-congratulatory. He 
 
 42
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 was swaddled in Teutonic comfort, as it were. 
 Perhaps the phlegmatic nature of his dissipation 
 soothed his Celtic nerves, as the imported Munich 
 beer dulled his elastic mind. His second marriage 
 with a girl of German blood had introduced this 
 salutary slowness into the mercurial currents of 
 his blood. Thus, every Sunday night he sat at 
 home, temporarily transformed into a great, squat, 
 amiable burgher, sucking smoke and soaking beer. 
 
 No doubt the transformation contained a bit of 
 deliberate politics come to sift them, most things 
 did with McBride. Since he had attained undis 
 puted supremacy in the wards, it was expedient to 
 become somewhat more of a mystery in the com 
 mon mind; it no longer behooved him, as ac 
 knowledged Boss, to joke and drink and swear 
 like any ordinary pot-house politician, in the sa 
 loons, or even in the side room off McMahon s 
 Place in Clark street, although from thence went 
 forth the decrees that ruled Chicago. 
 
 This particular Sunday night there was so little 
 to bother him that he was inclined, as an indul 
 gence along with the tobacco and the beer, to let 
 his sentimentality run loose. The Corlis dinner, 
 as Mr. Corlis had divined, had immensely flat 
 tered him and increased his self-respect. For, in 
 spite of the coarse fibre of the man, he possessed 
 the Irish itch after gentility. 
 
 So, as he sat, gorged with supper and irrigated 
 
 43
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 by beer, he chewed the sentimental cud of recol 
 lection. He gratefully remembered how, after 
 dinner, while Mr. Corlis was out of the room, he 
 had told his gracious hostess of his children and 
 his wife. Could he not feel the tender sympathy 
 of her dark eyes upon him still? 
 
 First of all he had told of his nearly grown sons, 
 the children of his first wife, and to what insults 
 and isolation they were subjected by their college 
 mates, because they had for father a notorious 
 Irish Boss and former " dive-keeper." After that 
 he had let her learn something of his o\vn poor at 
 tempts to retrieve his early disadvantages and to 
 atone for the ignorance and brutality of his past; 
 how he had engaged tutors to come to him for two 
 hours in each day throughout four years of his 
 most strenuous activity; how he had striven to ac 
 quaint himself with a little of English literature 
 and of human history, and even taken lessons in 
 art. Art he thought a talismanic word, which he 
 used only on " swells " who had " cultured man 
 ners." 
 
 Now the sentimental tears filled his big, blue 
 eyes, as he recalled how attentively she had list 
 ened to all he had had to say and how kind were 
 the replies she had made. 
 
 He had concluded, 
 
 " But there s things can t be fixed up, Mrs. Cor 
 lis. I never can get the mark off of my bringin* 
 
 44
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 up in a saloon and my tendin bar. They won t 
 let no one forget. Even if I could rub the slate 
 clean myself, they won t, them reformers. But 
 for my boys it s different; I sent em to a swell 
 school and I m puttin em through Harvard now. 
 They ll come out gentlemen, my boys will I ain t 
 sparin no expense. They ll be as good as the rest, 
 and won t have nothin to be ashamed of, when 
 they get through, except me." 
 
 He had told Mrs. Corlis about his girl-wife, 
 too, and the story seemed to take the lady even 
 more than the story of his boys. 
 
 " Why can t they be decent and let up about 
 who I married, anyhow? " he had asked with sup 
 pressed fierceness. " I ll commit murder on some 
 of em yet. She never done nothin ; she is a 
 small, weak creature, just a slip of a lass. I ve 
 got over mindin what they sling at me, but it s 
 worse n dirty for em to insinuate about her in the 
 daily columns of the newspapers. It ain t manly ! 
 It ain t Christian! If it wasn t for the organiza 
 tion, if I was foot loose, I d go after some of em, 
 I would. 
 
 Why, Mrs. Corlis, little Gretchen ain t much 
 more than a child. She never could protect her 
 self, and until she found me, she didn t own a 
 single friend in all the ugly world. It s true I 
 took her off the street; but it weren t her fault 
 any more than it was mine that I was born up over 
 
 45
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 a saloon instead of on Prairie Avenue. What do 
 people who have enough to be good on and more, 
 too, expect of a poor weak girl, who s naught but 
 a child and pretty, and hungry half the time and 
 badgered to death by every man that sets his eyes 
 on her! But I give her a chance, Mrs. Corlis. I 
 made her my wife, and she knows I m between 
 her and the world and that nothin nor nobody 
 can hurt her any more at all. She s got the chance 
 and that was all she needed, I m tellin you. She s 
 good and happy, and she goes to Mass every Sun 
 day early, and there ain t no better wife nor 
 mother in the city than my Gretchen." 
 
 It delighted the Boss, as he sat at home in his 
 broad chair, to think how nobly he had spoken 
 and how Mrs. Corlis in return had beamed upon 
 him. 
 
 Had she not said, 
 
 " You are like a knight of old, Mr. McBride; 
 you rescue women and you think well of us. That, 
 I think, God will let atone for a multitude of 
 deeds. I wonder if I may not help a bit? Some 
 times I question what my social power is worth 
 social power seems a thing so idle. But you will 
 let me call upon Mrs. McBride, and I should like 
 to invite her to my house. As this world is made 
 it s cowardly perhaps I can help you more in 
 that way than in any other. And your wife shall 
 like me; I ll make her like me." 
 
 46
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ( Mrs. Corlis had displayed the enthusiasm of a 
 generous child seized with a benevolent idea. 
 
 He remembered his own reply: 
 
 " But I m sure it would scare little Gretchen 
 most to death, Mrs. Corlis. She s a hausfrau, 
 that s what she calls herself. She ain t built a bit 
 for society, Mrs. Corlis, and seein what she s 
 been dragged through, she s satisfied enough to be 
 locked up safe at home." 
 
 Of such recollections were the Boss s rumina 
 tions woven, until a familiar sound caused him to 
 look up. His wife stood in the kitchen doorway, 
 her arms, bare to the elbow, set daintily akimbo 
 upon her hips. 
 
 " My, Mike, you do look comfortable; I m so 
 glad. I guess I d better fill up your stein again 
 before I come in." 
 
 She was a flaxen mouse of a woman, plump and 
 sleek with happiness and good health. The oval 
 contour of her Teutonic face was Madonnaesque; 
 her skin was soft as a babe s, and in her hazel 
 eyes dwelt security and peace, contented submis 
 sion to a will she loved. What blundering fate 
 had sent this simple creature, designed so obvi 
 ously for wife and mother, adrift upon the pave 
 ments of a brutal city, the victim of carnal youth 
 and obscene age ! 
 
 She stole about the room so softly, her two long 
 braids reaching below her waist; her face was 
 
 47
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 naturally demure and her eyes returned always to 
 the burly figure in the cane-bottomed chair. Dog- 
 like fidelity warmed each fond glance, fidelity of 
 the sort that never questions and likewise never 
 fails. 
 
 " Gretchen," the Boss grunted, between a 
 draught of beer and a puff of tobacco, " how d 
 you like to know Mrs. Corlis? " 
 
 " My ! " exclaimed Gretchen, sudden trepida 
 tion bringing to a stop her noiseless travels about 
 the room. 
 
 Well," announced McBride phlegmatically, 
 " anyhow she s comin to make a call on you." 
 
 " On me? " quavered Gretchen in alarm. " Oh, 
 Mike, don t let her do it." 
 
 " Can t be helped, I guess. You re the wife of 
 a somebody, you see; you can t help that. There s 
 social requirements to the position, I m tellin you, 
 that have got to be lived up to, somehow." He 
 rumbled grandly, but there was a twinkle in his 
 eye he would not let Gretchen see. 
 
 " But I won t know what to do, Mike," she 
 begged plaintively, standing before him, even her 
 braids assuming a hopeless hang. " And she s 
 such a high-toned lady for the like of me, Mrs. 
 Corlis is. Please, please, do tell her not to come. 
 Say I m afraid. Be a good Mike." 
 
 " Oh, she s set her heart on it," McBride loftily 
 explained. " She s got her plan, and all that s 
 
 48
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 left for us common folks is to fall in with it. She 
 is set on invitin you along with me to her palatial 
 residence upon the Lake Shore Drive, and her 
 mind s made up to extend my wife the glad hand 
 socially." 
 
 " But I don t have to take it, do I?" wailed 
 Gretchen in despair. " I won t have her here, 
 snoopin round, I won t. You can t bring no 
 nasty politics inside here, Mike, to disturb our 
 home." She flung her sobbing self on the Boss s 
 ample breast, crying, " I won t have no struttin 
 proud swell airing her goodness over me, I 
 won t, I- won t ! I know my place I do and I 
 wish people higher up d keep to theirs. Don t 
 make me, Mike, please don t! I won t love you 
 no more, if you do not one tiny bit, not a bit! " 
 
 "There, there! " McBride soothed her rough 
 ly, while his blue eyes danced. "Just think how 
 proud it would make you, little woman. Think 
 of the grand Mrs. Corlis rolling down the street 
 in her open carriage, just to call on you. How 
 all the neighbors would be jealous and how low 
 they d duck next day." 
 
 Gretchen suppressed her sobs to hear. Then 
 commenced afresh, 
 
 " I won t have her here coming round and 
 prying just like those Methodist women and 
 sniffing at my oh, oh, at what I used to be." 
 
 49
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 The vast arms went round her like protecting 
 walls. 
 
 " Pooh ! That needn t worry you none, poor 
 child. She ain t that kind at all, Mrs. Corlis ain t. 
 Sit up, now, on my knee, like a good, obedient girl, 
 and wipe your pretty eyes, while Mike tells you 
 what s what. There! She s like me and other 
 men, Mrs. Corlis is. She knows the world, I 
 guess, and a bit of human nature. And that s a 
 thing that knocks the ignorant discriminations out 
 of man or woman, Gretchen, unless they re fools. 
 From what I seen of her so far, I should judge 
 that to be the Queen Society Bee ain t unlike bein 
 Boss of the Cook County organization. That s 
 my opinion. Either of us, Mrs. Corlis or me, has 
 got to take the world as it comes along, and not 
 raise no holler because it ain t as we d have put it 
 up, if we d had the packin instead of God. And, 
 if anybody s askin , to try to get along with every 
 mother s son amounts, before you end, to a lot of 
 charity or near it. So, I m tellin you, you ain t 
 got no kick comin , Gretchen, about Mrs. Corlis 
 callin . She won t make you afraid, even if she is 
 the first Chicago lady and a queen all over the 
 land. I ll go you a bet, she ll turn out the best 
 friend you ever had." 
 
 So Gretchen, having dried her eyes on her hus 
 band s shirt sleeves, allowed herself to be com- 
 
 50
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 forted. Soon, indeed, she was pressing exhaus 
 tive inquiries. Finally 
 
 "And her husband, Mr. Corlis? Card says 
 she used to know him. What s he like ? " 
 
 " Corlis? Oh, he s smart, and he thinks he s 
 a dum sight smarter than he is," McBride an 
 swered. " But he has got to show me, yet, it ain t 
 J. J. Jarrett s millions that made him he s got 
 to show me that. Still, Corlis is pretty cute, pretty 
 cute he is."
 
 VI 
 
 HILDEGARDE BROWN 
 
 GRETCHEN slipped from her lord s knee. 
 " It s the back door," she said, " and I 
 guess it s Gard." 
 
 She went into the kitchen. McBride heard the 
 unlocking of the door, followed by shrill feminine 
 greetings. 
 
 " Come and see Mike," Gretchen prattled. 
 " He has lots to say, and he always likes to hear 
 you go on, he says." 
 
 She appeared in the doorway, an arm stretched 
 back to tug her visitor. 
 
 " Here s Gard, Mike." 
 
 " Good," the Boss grunted, hospitably. 
 
 Gard was tall and angular. Her frame was 
 broad, but she was thin through front to back, 
 Her long limbs might have made her awkward, 
 but her swiftness saved her, lending her not grace, 
 but the aspect of grace. The paradox extended to 
 her features, which were aquiline, keen, the articu 
 lations all edged, as it were, while the dark gray 
 eyes glittered like steel points; yet the skin which 
 clothed these sharpnesses was fair, with the tex 
 ture of velvet and satin both. 
 
 Therefore her face, had it not been so indis- 
 
 5*
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 putably incisive, might have been charged with 
 being tender. For, despite its underlying hard 
 ness, no mean lines nor bitter, no small line of 
 spite, appeared at the nostrils or around the 
 mouth. Indeed, the lips, edged though they were 
 and resolute, had inner curves, and the lower lip, 
 at its middle, hung a bit. Finally, her hair was 
 pale gold, like the aureole of a saint, and it flowed 
 about her temples and on her neck in shining 
 streamers with gleaming eddies. Had Saint 
 Michael been a woman, he would have been such 
 a woman as Gard looked. 
 
 " Hello, Gard," was the succinct greeting of 
 the Boss. " How s biziness? " 
 
 " I m still cheating the public," flashed Card s 
 answer. Her clear voice, low as it was, pained 
 the ear-drums, it was so distinct. " And you, I 
 suppose you re still skinning the people." 
 
 She ended with an infectious laugh. It came 
 like silver chimes after the cutting clearness of her 
 talking tones. 
 
 " Pretty strong language, Gard, as usual," 
 commented the Boss, with an answering roar. 
 I m mighty certain you find it pays as much as 
 I do," he added when his laughter ceased. 
 
 " Can t say I do," she retorted. " The invest 
 ing public is pretty smart, you know; but your 
 victims, the patriotic people, they relish being 
 gold-bricked." 
 
 53
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Why don t you drop promotin then and go 
 into politics with me? I d make a man of you, a 
 winner, too." 
 
 He put forth the idea to draw the lightning 
 which delighted him. 
 
 He succeeded. 
 
 " Not much. I might steal from a millionaire, 
 but I wouldn t touch your dirty revenue, Mc- 
 Bride." 
 
 Did the Boss flinch? Underneath his leathern 
 visage a dull red appeared. 
 
 " But what if I showed you a clean graft, Gard, 
 profits that d make Jay Gould s mouth water, all 
 in a way that wouldn t make no deacon sneeze? " 
 
 " I thought you thought Tweed a big stiff, and 
 copied Croker." 
 
 "That s right; you ve got it. But what I m 
 talkin is a brand new deal, my girl. It ain t no 
 scheme to raid the City Treasury. It ain t no 
 hold-up neither." 
 
 " Not another cinch on the gamblers, eh? " 
 
 " Not on your life. It ain t no such thing. It s 
 bizness, simon pure. I furnish the pull, my side 
 partners the dough and I guess we can bake a 
 cake between us. But what I m askin , Gard, is 
 your office, noons, to meet in, until after the elec 
 tion bizness s over." 
 
 " I guess it s pretty nearly yours, McBride, 
 since you just about support it, as it is." 
 
 54
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Oh, I ll let you in on the ground floor of the 
 deal." 
 
 " Thanks; perhaps I won t want to be let in." 
 
 " Humph, you won t be so dum coy when I tell 
 you who s the people W. H. D. Corlis and J. J. 
 Jarrett!" McBride looked triumphant. 
 
 Card stiffened as with death, and her expression 
 locked. After a moment she said quietly, 
 
 " No, I don t care to be mixed up with that 
 crowd. I know what their names mean." 
 
 The Boss had watched her narrowly. He 
 waved a hand. 
 
 ; Well, I can have the office, anyway, can t I? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " And when you feel you want to, any old time, 
 Card, you can get in at the basement, even if we re 
 goin up ten stories every month." 
 
 I won t want," said Card. 
 
 " Why do you flare up so, or I guess it s freeze, 
 whenever Mr. Corlis name is mentioned in the 
 conversation?" asked the Boss. 
 
 " None of your confounded business, McBride, 
 if you want to know." 
 
 McBride exploded. 
 
 Gretchen purred approvingly. 
 
 You do Mike such a heap of good, Card, 
 darling. It takes you, Sunday nights, to stir him 
 up." 
 
 Card irrelevantly demanded, 
 
 55
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " But what I want to know, McBride, is who 
 you re going to nominate for governor. Got any 
 one cropped out yet? " 
 
 "What do you want to know for?" growled 
 the Boss. 
 
 " Because I ve got a friend, a reporter on The 
 Pundit, outside, waiting on the corner," announced 
 Card, her eyes burning despite herself. 
 
 " Oh, you have, have you? " grunted McBride. 
 " You must think I ve turned fool over night." 
 
 "Well, you can lie about it, can t you?" she 
 retorted, " enough for him to hang a story on. I 
 never knew you to hesitate about lying when it 
 served your ends, and I guess it won t hurt you 
 any to lie once in a righteous cause." 
 
 The Boss s face was wreathed in smiles. 
 
 " Humph, who s your friend outside? It ain t 
 hospitable to leave him to cool his shins." 
 
 " Oh, it s a warm night," said Card. " His 
 name s Ruggles." 
 
 Her voice lingered on the name and there was 
 shyness in her keen face. 
 
 " Chris Ruggles of The Pundit? I know him. 
 Let him inside." 
 
 Card moved to comply. 
 
 " And you volunteered to get him an interview, 
 did you?" asked McBride. " W T ell, I like your 
 nerve." 
 
 " It won t hurt you," she rejoined, with char- 
 
 56
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 acteristically defiant humor. You don t want to 
 play the clam too much or people will get to think 
 ing you aren t wise as an owl, but only dumb as 
 an oyster. That wouldn t be good for your busi 
 ness." 
 
 " I ll tell him something, if you ll let him in," 
 agreed the Boss, as if he felt the force of the re 
 mark. 
 
 The two women went through the kitchen to 
 fetch the reporter. Meantime the Boss ruminated 
 and rumbled a little to himself. 
 
 McBride shook the newspaper man heartily by 
 the hand. 
 
 " I think we know each other pretty well, if 
 anybody s askin ," he said. " And you know, 
 Ruggles, I never talk none. But Card here says 
 I ve got to." 
 
 " He ll tell you all about it, Mr. Ruggles," 
 Card announced shrilly. Just you keep at him. 
 He s got it all rigged up beforehand. The Con 
 vention s set to go off like a patent alarm clock at 
 the hour wanted. Pie s told each speaker exactly 
 how much he can say and when he s to sit down. 
 The names of the nominees are stuck in his vest 
 pocket snug up to his own fat self there." 
 
 All laughed together, the Boss with them. 
 
 " I am the only one alive who dares twist the 
 lion s tail," continued Card, her eyes exultant. 
 
 57
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Come, McBride," she bade, " tell Mr. Ruggles 
 whom you ve ticked off to head the slate." 
 
 " Humph ! to hear you goin on, people d sup 
 pose I was the whole thing in Illinois," demurred 
 McBride. " I m only interested a bit in Chicago 
 politics, Ruggles, you know." 
 
 " Anyway, Mike was to dinner last night at the 
 Corlis s," announced Gretchen, triumphantly. 
 
 She had been bursting for an opportunity to tell 
 it, and this seemed to her as good an occasion as 
 any. 
 
 The Boss shot a glance at the reporter. 
 
 " Don t put that in The Pundit," he warned 
 him. 
 
 " Certainly not, Mr. McBride." 
 
 " Good," the big fellow grunted. 
 
 " Now, I m tellin you, young man, I haven t 
 been interviewed for the last two years, and if 
 you re set on it, I want you to get exactly what I 
 say without any of them frills you fellers stick on. 
 I want to let them high-toners, them Puritans and 
 silk-stockin s, who steal but never swear I want 
 to let em know exactly what I mean; but I don t 
 want em sayin what I didn t say. Are you on? " 
 
 The reporter took out paper and pencil and pre 
 pared to write upon his knee. 
 
 " Here, shove up to the table. And now mind, 
 here s what I ll stand for: The Cook County 
 organization ain t pledged to no man for neither 
 
 58
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 governor, nor senator, nor both. It s goin into 
 the convention a week from the comin Tuesday, 
 solid, and it s goin to stay solid. It s goin to 
 look after its own interests first and last and all 
 the time. The Cook County regular organization 
 ain t only good Republican on election day, but 
 good Republican between times. It s goin to be 
 recognized as such. The Cook County organiza 
 tion wants a man for governor who ll be polite to 
 it when he gets down to Springfield as well as just 
 before election day, and for senator it wants a 
 man who won t be ashamed of it at Washington. 
 That s all." 
 
 The Boss had spoken slowly, each word like a 
 soft blow, and he had brought his fist down on 
 the table silently after every word. 
 
 " Now read it over, my boy, and let s see how 
 it sounds. That ll do. When Senator Dawes 
 and the rest of them fellers read that ultimatum in 
 The Pundit to-morrow mornin , they ll get on to 
 the fact I m meanin bizness. And, by holy 
 smoke, I do." 
 
 " I am greatly obliged to you, Mr. McBride," 
 the reporter said. " It will be an exclusive story 
 for The Pundit, won t it?" 
 
 u I guess so, Ruggles, unless the other papers 
 send their men over here to-night, and you can 
 trust me I ain t a-goin to look em up." 
 
 59
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 His blue eyes twinkled, seeming to admit the 
 reporter into an enviable fellowship. 
 
 " Twas this way: you just happened to drop 
 down on me when I d about made up my mind, 
 Card helpin , it was about up to me to say a word. 
 Well, I ve said it, ain t I? and mind, don t you 
 change no word or fix it up it wasn t no college 
 professor who spoke it. Let it stand out naked; 
 Chicago knows my style. And now bizness is 
 done, you and Card draw up here, and Gretchen, 
 she ll fill us up a stein apiece. Let s enjoy home 
 life while we can, s my sentiments." 
 
 Card smiled gratefully at the Boss and made 
 no more personal assaults upon him that night. 
 
 60
 
 yii 
 
 THE OFFICE IN THE " OBELISK " 
 
 THE " Obelisk " rises in La Salle street to 
 the height of seventeen stories. It pro 
 jects, tower-like, above the tops of the ad 
 jacent buildings. Within, the floors and walls are 
 tiled in white, while the offices are finished in hard 
 woods and marble wainscoting. Banks, trust com 
 panies, estates, one or two great law firms, pro 
 moters of large enterprises, are the tenants of the 
 building. 
 
 A visitor to the higher floors experiences an 
 aerial sensation. The outer walls seem thin parti 
 tions against space, the windows are so wide and 
 the piers between so narrow, that, looking out, he 
 feels as if a stumble might precipitate him into 
 midmost air, and, until custom reassures him, he 
 is persuaded that he might as well be standing on 
 the edge of a precipice, shielded from the abyss by 
 only a fragile pane of glass. Then he remembers 
 that through the body of the structure runs a net 
 work of steel beams and girders, a hidden skele 
 ton, and his knowledge of the architectural secret 
 stands him in place of the assurance of the eye. 
 
 An office door upon the fifteenth floor has 
 61
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 painted on its clouded glass black letters which 
 read, " H. Brown Mineral Properties Stocks 
 and Bonds Investments." 
 
 The offices comprise a suite of rooms, the inner 
 most of which has a private entrance opening into 
 the hall near the elevators. That door is unlet 
 tered and holds no glass, nor could any one sus 
 pect that it opened into offices to be reached pub 
 licly only through two corridors. 
 
 The innermost office of the suite, possessing this 
 side entrance, enjoys a wide south front of win 
 dows, which for the purposes of light, at least, 
 renders it but a recess far up the face of a cliff. 
 The business character of the room is indicated by 
 the large mahogany roll-top desk, and at its far 
 ther end by a long table set about with ten straight- 
 backed chairs, all of a pattern, evidently for the 
 use of a meeting of the directors of companies. 
 The room, in addition, is furnished somewhat 
 richly: the carpet underfoot is thick; four good 
 pictures are suspended on the walls; a bronze 
 clock ticks from its place on the mantel-piece; 
 brass andirons occupy the fireplace; there are 
 three or four luxurious chairs and a sumptuous 
 leather-covered lounge. 
 
 The outer offices are devoid of ornament. A 
 number of flat-topped desks for clerks fill the 
 space behind the wooden bar, which rails the pas 
 sage to the inner room. Two typewriters, screwed 
 
 62
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 to tables, are constantly clicking under the indus 
 trious taps of two young women. A huge safe 
 protrudes from one wall. An office boy sits near 
 the outer door, and when not attending to the 
 wants of callers, is forever licking stamps to en 
 velopes. 
 
 Hildegarde Brown, in a high-backed swivel 
 chair placed before her roll-top desk, was enabled 
 to swing half about and put her feet upon the low 
 window sill or the steam pipes just beneath the 
 sill, and so look out upon the uneven roofs and 
 the sheer gulfs between which compose the land 
 scape offered by the business quarter of Chicago. 
 At that altitude, in that rectangular, perpendicu 
 lar world, dwelt peace, as much peace as is possi 
 ble in an enormous modern industrial city the 
 peace of the upper air. 
 
 She often turned thus from her work and sat 
 half-hours through, gazing across the irregular 
 planes of the high roofs, penetrating downwards 
 in the chasms of the streets, idly noting the belch 
 of steam and smoke from a hundred painted iron 
 chimneys. To her it seemed somewhat of an Al 
 pine prospect, grandiose if not grand. 
 
 She had ample leisure, or she made it. Her 
 business was an affair of wits. She thought and 
 talked and issued orders to the clerical force with 
 out. 
 
 " It s a regular Irish business," she often de- 
 
 63
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 clared to McBride. " You people are a success at 
 everything but work and I ve caught it from you 
 by contagion. The police force or some City Hall 
 job, that s what fits the Irish, where imagination 
 doesn t damage any and they aren t kilt per- 
 spirin ." 
 
 In the last few words she mimicked the Boss s 
 speech to perfection. 
 
 Card swung slowly in her chair, and glancing 
 out of the window, observed to her visitor, after 
 her own peculiar fashion, 
 
 ; What a deal of deviltry those roofs we see 
 conceal ! By Jingo, I d cut Chicago to-morrow 
 afternoon and hunt a hole in some clean, stupid 
 place, but I m certain that before twenty-four 
 hours had elapsed, positively I d miss the hellish- 
 ness. Life has a gait to it here; Chicago may be 
 brutal, may be ugly, but it s got a hustle to it, all 
 the same." 
 
 Her vehemence neither shocked, surprised, nor 
 caused her visitor to smile. The humorous recipi 
 ency of Christopher Ruggles was indeed small, 
 hardly to be tickled by any provocation, while as 
 for being shocked, he had too long ago shaken the 
 last dust off his feet upon what he styled "respecta 
 bilities." Lastly, as to surprise, no friend of Card 
 Brown could afford to be surprised. 
 
 Ruggles was a serious, perhaps a solemn look 
 ing personage. In expression he was sombre, with 
 
 64
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 a sombreness that not long ago had been gloom, 
 and the patient look of his sad blue eyes betokened 
 some catholic acquaintance with grief. His body, 
 though vigorous, was clumsily made, and his big 
 feet, as he moved them, seemed heavy to lift and 
 were certainly heavy w r hen set down. His dark 
 brown hair was thick, his beard square-cut and 
 shot with red. The full brows above the brood 
 ing eyes denoted intellectuality, and the whole 
 face had much in it of the granitic character of 
 the New England race. It was the granite of en 
 durance, however, rather than the rock of aggres 
 sion. The man, indeed, looked baffled, though 
 not beaten, and there showed in his eyes a won 
 der, as if he were constantly called upon to marvel 
 at experience, which daily revealed such a fund 
 of unsuspected meanness in men, and such a ca 
 pacity for brutality in nature. 
 
 In truth, Ruggles inevitably, by reason of his 
 higher qualities, his conscientiousness, his austere 
 searching after truth, and his lack of self-conceit, 
 must find life hard. The resiliency which adven 
 turers possess, the compensation which humor af 
 fords, were benefits unknown to him. 
 
 Perhaps Card Brown, child of the practical life 
 though she was, divined mistily these character 
 istics and what must be their consequences to her 
 friend. At any rate, her instinct from the first 
 had been to protect him. The glance she ever 
 
 65
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 met him with was in part solicitous. She, who was 
 conventionally uneducated, had what Stevenson 
 has called " the superstition of letters." And her 
 keen perception a special gift of women recog 
 nized in Ruggles the presence of a real intellect. 
 It touched her compassion as well as her sense of 
 the disorder which constitutes society, that this 
 man of thirty-five, superbly educated, highly gifted, 
 with so sincere a devotion to duty, should be un 
 able to find a use for his talent and should fulfill 
 no higher function than that of a reporter on the 
 Chicago Pundit. 
 
 She swung her chair from the window to face 
 him. She asked what he thought of McBride. 
 
 You seemed to like him last night," she said. 
 The Boss is at least a genial sinner." 
 
 " I haven t the least doubt that he possesses 
 the primitive virtues," answered Ruggles gravely. 
 " He is certainly more pleasant to interview than 
 a good many reformers. That is always it," the 
 reporter smiled in a removed and wintry way, 
 " good motives don t improve one s charm." 
 
 " Well, I d rather trust McBride than some." 
 Her gray eyes flashed beautifully. " I hate a Phar 
 isee ; I hate a Pharisee ! And respectable people 
 have such mean sins, contemptible deals they won t 
 acknowledge to themselves things that a pirate 
 like McBride wouldn t stoop to. I ve got so I 
 don t look for saints any more. And, since I m 
 
 66
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 sitting in the game, I follow the rules along with 
 the rest of the boys and I don t care what the 
 respectabilities think of it." 
 
 " What they think depends eventually upon 
 how far you succeed," said Ruggles. 
 
 u And I don t like saints either," continued 
 Card in her reckless fashion. " I ve lost my taste 
 for them. Unregenerate human nature is good 
 enough for me. To love, to hate, to dare, to pro 
 tect what one loves and to be generous that may 
 not be very developed; but I like it better than 
 the pale passions of these complicated fish. These 
 righteous people who automatically stop loving 
 when the loved one proves not worthy, and who 
 only hate a bad principle but never a good 
 man!" 
 
 She got to her feet and stamped once or twice 
 to emphasize her disdain. 
 
 Ruggles was used to these scenes. It cannot 
 be said that he enjoyed them, but knowing Card 
 for what she was, he may be supposed to have dis 
 counted them. 
 
 He rose. 
 
 " I must go, Card. It s past noon now, and, 
 you know, I m required to report to the paper 
 at half past one, and get my lunch besides." 
 
 ;< I would go to lunch with you," she declared, 
 " but you heard McBride say last night he d be 
 
 67
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 in here about noon. Good-by. Come in to-mor 
 row, the same time if you can." 
 
 She had followed Ruggles to the outer office. 
 As she stopped and turned to bid a stenographer 
 come into her room to take some dictation, the 
 office boy at her elbow said, 
 
 " A gentleman to see Mr. McBride." 
 
 Card looked up and blanched to her lips. Was 
 it terror that for a moment usurped the clear con 
 fidence of her eyes? She shrank the merest frac 
 tion of a second, then sprang erect again, while 
 a look of intensity rushed into her face and set 
 a rigid hardness there. 
 
 She sped one anxious glance toward Ruggles 
 to note if he had seen; he was blessedly oblivious, 
 involved in his own dream. But Mr. Corlis, fol 
 lowing her glance from the corner of his eye, re 
 corded a mental note, which might or might not 
 some day prove valuable, he surmised. Ruggles 
 he recognized as the reporter who had interviewed 
 him for The Pundit two or three times. 
 
 This passed most briefly. Then the eyes of 
 magnate and business woman locked for a second 
 like dueling foils. Two spots of scarlet burned 
 in Card s cheeks and her nervous hand gripped 
 hard on the knob of the door she held. Otherwise 
 she was very still. 
 
 " You wish to see Mr. McBride?" she asked. 
 
 " If I may," he rejoined, coolly, with the in- 
 68
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 different ease of the man of the world. " Mr. 
 McBride made an appointment with me here." 
 
 " It s all right," she assured him in a tone of 
 business. " If you will walk into the private office 
 and be seated, he will join you through the other 
 door in a few minutes, I am sure. Do you care 
 to wait? " 
 
 "Thank you, I ll wait," replied Mr. Corlis, 
 walking past her into the room. 
 
 Card closed the door upon him and went about 
 matters in the outer office that demanded atten 
 tion. 
 
 60
 
 J 
 
 VIII 
 J. J. J. 
 
 OHN JAMES JARRETT, familiarly re 
 ferred to by his admiring or envious fellow- 
 citizens as J. J. J., was a very plain Ameri 
 can. He wore, perpetually, baggy trousers and an 
 old gray slouch hat, and, until his identity became 
 too well known to be mistaken, he preferred 
 traveling in the common coach along with the 
 rest of the public. It enabled him, for one thing, 
 to discuss politics and affairs with whosoever 
 shared his seat. In that manner, he declared, one 
 could meet a cattleman from the Southwest, a 
 wheat farmer from up in the Dakotas, a shoe 
 drummer from New England and a coal operator 
 from the Hocking valley, and pick up more perti 
 nent information in a half-day s chat than could 
 be learned from forty newspapers and a dozen 
 magazines. 
 
 Of late years, however, such indulgence had 
 been impossible. J. J. J. had become too well 
 known. His unique personality was unmistak 
 able, so much so that before ten sentences had 
 been exchanged, some numskull was sure to re 
 mark, 
 
 70
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Excuse me, sir, but you re the everlasting 
 photograph of that old skinflint, J. J. Jarrett, 
 big bug of the Transcontinental and Pacific." 
 
 Whereupon J. J. J. would cholerically retort, 
 
 "No, I ain t, you fool; I m the old skinflint 
 himself." 
 
 Thus was he forced against his inclination to 
 the seclusion of his private car, on his continental 
 journeyings between New York and Chicago, 
 Washington and Denver. His home, legally, was 
 in Denver, where he had built himself, as a sort of 
 proclamation of the fact, a great house. But 
 he was seldom at home. His wife had been dead 
 so long that she had passed from his memory 
 and, except his niece, he had no kin. In literal 
 truth he was a wanderer in the fashion possible 
 to a modern millionaire. He inhabited his car, 
 and he preferred to have the wheels forever mov 
 ing under him. Motion stimulated his brain, he 
 thought; at least he was sure that it relieved 
 his melancholy. 
 
 " What is the difference between me and a 
 tramp?" was one of his jokes. The tramp 
 rides on a truck underneath and I upon the plat 
 form on top." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis had listened to that jest four hun 
 dred times. 
 
 He was a strange man, the world declared, and 
 verily he looked the part. His short body was 
 
 7 1
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 foreshortened by his breadth, though little flesh 
 ]ay upon the frame. His chest was the bellows 
 for a giant and his arms had a gorilla s length, 
 his hands a gorilla s tenacity. The head fitted 
 to this peculiar body was picturesque. The fore 
 head was like a wall and from its summit back 
 ward the straight brown hair, thickly streaked 
 with gray, descended like a royal mane between 
 big, out-cropping ears to the velvet collar of his 
 coat. 
 
 The countenance beneath that Periclean ex 
 panse of forehead contained crude force in blocks. 
 What it expressed besides was a genius for duplic 
 ity. The jaw was massive, the cheekbones rug 
 ged, and the nose obtrusive, but the bristling 
 eyebrows were curved ingenuously and the dark 
 eyes themselves, brilliant as jewels, sharp as points 
 of steel, were always on the watch. 
 
 Yet in the face was something more something 
 elusive, wistful, always unutterably sad. The 
 mouth, fringed in the uneven beard, for all its 
 terrible decision, was tender at times; the eyes, 
 when their watch slept, soft as a poetic girl s. 
 
 It was a face, indeed, which, when not feared, 
 men loved, they knew not why a face that, had 
 it not been a colossal doer s, would have been a 
 great dreamer s. America and the West decided 
 It must be the first. 
 
 J. J. J. stepped straight with no turning out of 
 72
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 the toes. Some wondered if an Indian strain were 
 not crossed in his inheritance so especially his 
 enemies, whom he pursued until he had them 
 down. Others, nearer to him, subject to the com 
 pulsion of his magnetic eyes, credited him with 
 the intensity of some passionate race, Jewish, per 
 haps, or Spanish. In fact, he was half Yankee and 
 half what America styles Scotch-Irish, and, if the 
 Celtic quarter contributed subtlety and fervor, the 
 three-fourths Saxon supplied him with poise and 
 iron. 
 
 He was a son of the West beyond the Missis 
 sippi. He had succeeded first upon the " Coast " 
 and then in Colorado. With a fortune of twenty 
 millions, dug from the mines, at his back, he had 
 gone into railroads. He flung lines of steel across 
 empty states; he distributed farms; he planted 
 towns. The same genius that mastered the com 
 mercial geography of the West, applied to war, 
 had made a Sherman or a Kitchener. He fore 
 casted futures, he discounted time, he stretched 
 his rails along strategic routes and knit the Great 
 Plains to the Western Ocean. 
 
 The master of a gigantic system, with a hun 
 dred and fifty millions to his credit, J. J. J. de 
 veloped a third and final phase. He forced him 
 self into that small coterie who wield billions as 
 their weapons; who seek to control the whole 
 American product; who by the power derived 
 
 73
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 from mechanical invention and directed through 
 perfected organization, would rear, consciously 
 or unconsciously, inside the Republic, an indus 
 trial and commercial despotism capable of domin 
 ating the globe. 
 
 Through these successive transformations of his 
 life, J. J. J. preserved his individuality unchanged. 
 He remained a simple man of simple habits, a 
 Westerner in manner, in his democracy, and even 
 in his sentimentality. In truth, the man was so 
 original that he could not conform to the con 
 ventions of New York any more than formerly 
 he had to those of San Francisco and of Denver. 
 Unaccountable, unique, a dreamer among realists, 
 a melancholy muser upon life s verities, a thinker 
 without education or a knowledge of books, he 
 surpassed men of imagination in the magnificence 
 of his projects and astonished mere financiers by 
 the celerity with which he reduced visions into 
 facts of steel and steam. 
 
 J. J. J. reached Chicago Tuesday morning. 
 He came over the Northwestern in his second 
 private car, the " Swiftsure." 
 
 When his carriage drew up in front of the 
 Corlis house, he was welcomed by the sight of 
 the pride of his heart standing at the top of the 
 steps before the great arch of the entrance door. 
 
 How quickly the ungainly old man got out of 
 the carriage and up the low, broad steps ! 
 
 74
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She leaned over him from her height and kissed 
 his eyes, holding his bearded old face between 
 her hands. 
 
 " Uncle Johnny, Uncle Johnny," she repeated; 
 it was all that she could say without bursting 
 into tears. 
 
 " Child, child, my little Vicky," he cried in a 
 rapture, and he held her off by his long arms and 
 gloated over her. 
 
 She drew him into the house, saying, 
 
 " I am so glad to have you come. It always 
 lets me feel so irresponsible, when you are on hand 
 to take charge." She sighed. 
 
 Despite their difference of stature and of 
 breeding, when together the nearness of their kin 
 was recognizable. From his blood came her olive 
 cheeks and speaking eyes ; doubtless, too, her quick 
 impetuosity which so often unexpectedly varied the 
 processes of her calculations. Both had been 
 guilty of originalities in their lives. 
 
 Continued scrutiny upon his part resulted in 
 the question, " But are you feeling wholly strong, 
 Victoria?" 
 
 She met his query impatiently; then dismissed 
 it with her dazzling smile. 
 
 " Oh, it s only that we are growing old together, 
 Uncle Johnny." 
 
 " No, no," he protested, not liking the notion. 
 " You are to come after me, Victoria. You reap 
 
 75
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 where I have watered. I m the rough plough 
 man; you, the dainty f caster." 
 
 But she turned the subject. 
 
 " Are you aware that I have not seen you since 
 Christmas, Uncle Johnny? Do you call that be 
 ing good to your one and only niece? " 
 
 " Ah, I have crossed the Sierras and the Rockies 
 just to see my child s face; to learn from her lips 
 if she wanted anything." His subtle countenance 
 looked seraphic as he uttered these words. 
 
 She leaned a cheek against his shoulder. 
 
 " Snuggle me up close," she bade, " just as if 
 I were a child. I m so tired, awful tired, of play 
 ing the grand lady. You have no idea, Uncle 
 Johnny, what a bore it s become. Why, it s only 
 to you I can let down, and you only come twice 
 a year. To the Pater I am a mental comrade, a 
 sort of secretary to his mind, and to dear Walter 
 I m a helpmate, I suppose, though I do detest 
 that term. Nobody that isn t serious has any 
 use for me, Uncle Johnny nobody but you. But 
 to you I m still your little girl, am I not, Uncle 
 Johnny, and it s so restful, oh, you can t believe 
 how restful." 
 
 That whole day the two spent together, unin 
 terrupted except for the telegrams that pursued J. 
 J. J. everywhere. It was one of his most common 
 jokes that when St. Peter let him in the gate, the 
 first angel he met would say, " You ll find your 
 
 76
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 telegrams awaiting you all right enough, Mr. 
 Jarrett, half a block up, left hand side, the Golden 
 Street." 
 
 The telegrams in sequence told of the break 
 in Wall Street that had occurred the day before 
 and was then developing into a " slump." Rail 
 way stocks had taken a sharp tumble and showed 
 no signs of a rally anywhere. Besides the business 
 telegrams there were those from friends he knew 
 and from members of the public who knew him; 
 they were angry or reproachful, many of them, 
 stating that the senders of them had had trust in 
 him, had invested in his properties or speculated 
 according to his theories, and that now they had 
 lost money or been ruined by reason of their faith 
 in him. 
 
 The great manipulator grew depressed as the 
 day lengthened and the telegrams increased. He 
 had never been a ruthless man, except when he 
 hated or where necessity demanded ruthlessness. 
 Now he remarked to his niece, who leaned over his 
 shoulder while he tore up a message, 
 
 " Sometimes I wonder, Vicky, if the essence of 
 life is not cruelty. One can t put a foot down 
 without dealing death. I never speculate; I only 
 buy to bring together, to end factions, to bind 
 weaknesses into one strength, in fact, to benefit the 
 investors and ultimately the public we all serve. 
 But I can t make a well-considered move, one 
 
 77
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 dictated by judgment and the most wholesome ex 
 pediency, without hurting some poor man, some 
 widow, some aged person. Yet if I stood still, 
 more would suffer and others might bungle where 
 I do well. Power is a fearful thing, Victoria, and 
 if you are tired of your kind of success, upon my 
 soul, I d rather be driving a pick in a California 
 gulch, as in the old days, than to be lashed every 
 hour by this string of money I have got and that s 
 got me. What s in it all for me, knowing, as I 
 do, I can t stop without bringing down a crash, and 
 I can t go on without treading upon fallen men? 
 God knows I wish He had made His world upon 
 a simpler plan ! " 
 
 She hardly tried to comfort him; to do so 
 would have been a vain thing, she knew. What 
 comfort so strong a soul as J. J. J. got in this 
 world he derived from himself; that was his dis 
 tinction and his sorrow. 
 
 She sought instead to divert his attention to the 
 matter of her father s reelection, which she knew 
 he had at heart. She explained the situation to 
 him fully. 
 
 " You see the poor Pater has a stiff fight ahead 
 of him," she ended. " It seems as if all the 
 enemies he had ever made were, somehow, joined 
 in league; they decry his abilities shamefully and 
 they rake up all that ever happened or might have 
 happened or that they wish had happened. It 
 
 78
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 appears very pitiful, doesn t it, to see an old man, 
 after so many years of service and of honor, so 
 assailed? " 
 
 " Cheer up," bade J. J. J. " The old lion is 
 not going to die this year, and there s an old 
 grizzly in the background the dogs must reckon 
 with before they finish." 
 
 In her delight Mrs. Corlis hugged his huge 
 head. 
 
 " Uncle Johnny, you are what do they call it? 
 you re a trump ! " 
 
 Your Uncle Johnny, Vicky, always gets into 
 every game, as I ve assured you lots of times." 
 A flash of pride lit up his melancholy face. " You 
 will be satisfied with Uncle Johnny before you get 
 through." 
 
 Had any one suggested to J. J. J. that his use 
 of " corporate influence " to dictate nominations 
 or to qualify elections, was unpatriotic and injuri 
 ous to the country, the magnate would have char 
 acterized him as a fool. J. J. J. loved his country. 
 Just as he possessed the old-fashioned American 
 reverence for women, he had preserved the old- 
 fashioned devotion to the Republic and the old- 
 fashioned esteem for her statesmen. Administra 
 tions in Washington, of either party, understood 
 perfectly that in a crisis of the country the millions 
 of John J. Jarrett, to the last of them, might be 
 
 79
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 relied upon to buttress the country s credit or assist 
 the country s cause. 
 
 Senator Simeon E. Dawes, to the mind of J. 
 J. J., was a distinguished statesman, a great man, 
 a great servant of the United States. In com 
 parison, he himself was but a money-getter, a ser 
 viceable fellow, and could he have been of mone 
 tary service to his brother-in-law, he would have 
 felt much the same elation as if he had shared the 
 privilege of paying Daniel Webster s debts. 
 
 He was aware that Senator Dawes had more 
 than once been pressed for money. He knew that 
 the Senator, with the financial opportunities of a 
 lifetime in the public service, had remained poor. 
 The Senator,- in his integrity, had even leaned 
 backwards; he had rejected, not aid, but op 
 portunities, which J. J. J. had offered him. 
 
 When J. J. J. read criticisms of some of " Uncle 
 Simeon s " political methods, he remembered how 
 positively ignorant the latter was of even the rudi 
 ments of business. And the image of the aging 
 statesman, alone in his country house down at 
 Primrose Hill, learned, sage, patriotic, incorrupti 
 ble, poor in a time when the best of men did not 
 disdain to turn " an honest dollar," struck J. J. 
 J. s imagination. While America was advised by 
 such old Romans, argued J. J. J., the country re 
 mained safe. 
 
 The chief pride J. J. J. cherished lay in the 
 80
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 marriage of his only sister to Senator Dawes. 
 The child of that union he had doted on from 
 birth, and as she grew his fondness and his worship 
 had also grown. That she was the daughter of a 
 great statesman and had inherited her father s 
 mind filled him with contentment, and that she was 
 yet his own niece allowed him a fearful sense of 
 ownership in what he felt was beyond his deserts. 
 For J. J. J. was modest in a sense; he did not share 
 in the delusion of the day that because a man 
 piled up millions he must therefore possess an in 
 tellect. He might himself have gone to the Senate, 
 he could have bought the honor several times; 
 but he did not fancy himself a natural born legisla 
 tor and he thought too many millionaires were 
 members of " the club " already. He was re 
 solved, however, to keep Senator Dawes in the 
 Senate; if the people did not know enough to re 
 turn him, J. J. J. would assist their perceptions all 
 he could. 
 
 81
 
 IX 
 
 MR. CORLIS AND HIS SUPERIOR 
 
 MRS. CORLIS, devoted as she was to the 
 furtherance of the ambitions of her hus 
 band, was nevertheless enabled to enjoy 
 the evidence of his discomfiture, apparent but to 
 her, whenever the presence of J. J. J. imposed 
 subordination. 
 
 Mr. Corlis was extremely deferential to the rail 
 road king; but it chafed him secretly that his def 
 erence was exacted. Mr. Jarrett s manner never 
 varied; it was that of a blood relation to a fascin 
 ating younger man, whose character, according to 
 an old man s standards, was not fully formed. 
 Sometimes, unexpectedly, the magnate would re 
 gard Corlis through half shut lids and maybe at 
 the conclusion of his scrutiny would compress his 
 lips. Upon the whole, however, his treatment of 
 his niece s husband denoted the toleration of sus 
 pended judgment plus an inclination to accept him 
 at face value. Yet J. J. J. was not at all backward 
 in making the fact clear that what he had done for 
 Corlis was for " Vicky s sake," and in no measure 
 due to the merits of the man himself, however con 
 siderable they might be. 
 
 82
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 At dinner that night Mr. Corlis was disposed to 
 be pleased with himself. 
 
 " McBride and I," he announced, " have swept 
 the primaries. We ve got two-thirds of the wards. 
 The reformers are nowhere, and we will go into 
 the Convention with a solid body of four hundred 
 delegates to deliver as we please. It is the first time 
 exhaustive New York methods have been applied 
 in Chicago; it illustrates the difference between 
 scientific procedure and amateurish guess-work. 
 You have seen the same thing in railroading, Mr. 
 Jarrett. Of course, the newspapers will all be full 
 of McBride and what a Croker to Chicago he has 
 become; but the few who understand know who 
 told him how, who taught him the game, whose 
 directions he obeyed." 
 
 Mr. Corlis was justified in his elation; he had 
 much reason for self-congratulation. Moreover, 
 he loved these outbursts of vanity, these songs of 
 triumph in the bosom of his family, which he was 
 too astute to indulge in elsewhere. And he was 
 so much elated that he could not momentarily re 
 gard J. J. J. as a restraining presence. 
 
 The latter asked some questions concerning the 
 success at the primaries; but Mrs. Corlis fancied 
 he was scarcely pleased with her husband s paean, 
 and accordingly she shifted their interest. 
 
 " Walter," she announced, " I have told Uncle 
 Johnny of your scheme, yours and Mr. McBride s, 
 
 83
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 and I ve half persuaded, half coaxed him into be 
 lieving it may be a great idea. Have I not, Uncle 
 Johnny? All he now requires, Walter, is the 
 facts and figures from you and he will become en 
 thusiastic, I prophesy." 
 
 "Is it true?" Mr. Corlis bowed as only he 
 could bow. " We shall be delighted if we can en 
 list your interest, Mr. Jarrett. For myself, I ll 
 swear it is the most lucrative enterprise in Christen 
 dom, and I hope you will agree with me, as Vic 
 toria does." 
 
 "I ll listen," agreed J. J. J. "I promised 
 Vicky. What is it you want? " It was the blunt 
 question with which the magnate met every one, 
 for every one he met was a solicitor of some kind. 
 
 Mr. Corlis answered in a word, 
 
 " We want you to finance the campaign, Mr. 
 Jarrett, and McBride and I will handle the politics 
 of it here in Chicago and in Springfield." 
 
 J. J. J. smiled. He liked a pithy answer. 
 
 " Well, I ll look into it, I ll look into it," he 
 promised. " Vicky seems to want me to very 
 much, and as you ve learned, Corlis, what your 
 wife wants goes very far with me." 
 
 " The merits will commend it for itself," re 
 sponded Mr. Corlis, drily, allowing it to be seen 
 that he was a bit put out. 
 
 " Not with me, unless Vicky first approves," 
 said Mr. Jarrett, pointedly. But he continued in 
 
 84
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 a fatherly tone, perhaps to show that he meant no 
 offense to Corlis, 
 
 "If you want me to look at it, my boy, you ll 
 have to let me see the papers right after dinner. 
 I must go to New York to-night, from the tele 
 grams I have received. That market must be 
 bolstered up and taken advantage of. And it 
 makes me sick to think of the want and ruin that 
 will stare hundreds of poor people in the face if 
 a panic comes just now. Poor fools, they never 
 seem to learn." 
 
 He fell abruptly into a brown study as was his 
 habit, and they, who knew him well, respected his 
 mood. 
 
 " By God," he cried suppressedly, at last, " if 
 I were the government, I d hang every stock 
 broker, but I d stop that game." 
 
 Again he mused. The strange head drooped 
 and the dark eyes stared without power of sight, 
 as if a trance had come upon him. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Corlis talked together, pretending not to notice 
 him. 
 
 When presently he lifted up his head again, his 
 niece asked with concern if he were not coming 
 back to her for a longer visit. 
 
 Yes, child," he answered. " I think I ll come 
 right back to you. I want to see that Convention. 
 It will divert me. Expect me some time along 
 about Saturday or the following Monday." 
 
 85
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Ah, that will be delightful," declared Mrs. 
 Corlis. " The Pater comes Saturday himself. You 
 can see him, Uncle Johnny, and he can see you, 
 and I I will have you both together. Nothing 
 could please me so well." 
 
 " Good," responded J. J. J. " I ll make a point 
 of it, Vicky, to be back by Sunday anyhow. 
 There ll either be a howl in Wall Street or there 
 won t by Friday, and I can t help them after that. 
 That reminds me too, Corlis, you mean to help 
 the Senator in his fight, don t you? I mean you 
 and this fellow McBride." 
 
 " He is to be endorsed for reelection to the 
 Senate in the Convention; that is part of the 
 plan," replied Mr. Corlis. 
 
 " If we can only get him to agree to be friends 
 with the Boss," Mrs. Corlis added in explanation, 
 thereby innocently stating what her husband wished 
 to leave unsaid. 
 
 J. J. J. looked for enlightenment to Corlis, who 
 hastened to reveal just enough to satisfy his inter 
 locutor. 
 
 " McBride is willing and the Senator must be, 
 Mr. Jarrett. Egypt, with Governor Ransom, his 
 former standby, has turned against him. The Sen 
 ator will thoroughly appreciate the exigency, I am 
 sure, and we shall have no trouble in bringing him 
 to an understanding with McBride." 
 
 The magnate s manner was as mild as milk. 
 86
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Certainly we must leave no stone unturned to 
 reelect the Senator. You understand that, Corlis. 
 It is a family matter and I leave it to you. And, 
 now we ve finished dinner, if you will drive down 
 with me to the station, you can explain your project 
 to me. We ll have as much as half an hour in my 
 car before the train starts, and if I like your 
 scheme, I ll tell you whether I ll go into it and 
 whether I ll let Vicky put her money in." 
 
 Mr. Corlis cordially expressed his sense of obli 
 gation. He looked cheerful, but at heart he was 
 seething with rebellion, in the first place, because 
 the favor was forthcoming through his wife s in 
 tercession, and in the second, because J. J. J. s 
 expressed wish about the reelection was in reality 
 an order. He kept his head, however, for he 
 realized the value of the chance offered him. 
 
 Mr. Corlis was not above profiting by his wife s 
 intermediation indeed, as we have seen, he fre 
 quently prompted her action in his behalf but 
 the fact that he was dependent upon it awakened 
 his resentment. However, he congratulated him 
 self that if his present project succeeded, it would 
 emancipate him, in a large degree, from the mil 
 lions of his wife and the favor of J. J. J. 
 
 In a measure his political ambitions likewise pro 
 ceeded from his relationship to the family into 
 which he had married. Some day he hoped to 
 be relieved from the shadow of the fame of Sen- 
 
 87
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ator Dawes. One thing comforted him : J. J. J. 
 and his father-in-law were both old men; he was 
 forty-five. They must decline; he had not yet 
 touched his zenith. 
 
 The carriage was announced. Mr. Corlis 
 stepped outside to speak to the coachman, while 
 J- J- J-> wrapped in the cloak he preferred to an 
 overcoat, bade his niece good-by. She noticed his 
 depression 
 
 ; I m sorry to have you go off alone, Uncle 
 Johnny. If it were not for these politics I would 
 go with you. You ought to stay a day and let me 
 cheer you up." She stooped to kiss the old man 
 on the mouth. 
 
 He held both her hands tightly clasped within 
 his own. 
 
 " I hate to go, Vicky, and I hate to do what I 
 know I shall have to when I get to New York. 
 To have power is to have a night hag on one s 
 back. And are we ever permitted to choose be 
 tween the good and the bad in this world? It s 
 nothing but a choice between evils that we get." 
 
 She watched him down the steps, the light from 
 the hall thrown out into the night over him. He 
 turned at the bottom and gazed back at her long 
 ingly, she thought. How grotesque, how pictur 
 esque he was ! Almost misshapen, but with what 
 points of dazzling beauty those unfathomable 
 eyes, that woman s tender smile ! 
 
 88
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 He left Tuesday night. Thursday morning 
 he was in Wall Street. The crash of stocks re 
 sounded from London to San Francisco. The 
 thousand and one small speculators were " cleaned 
 out; " the plan of the masters of finance was ruth 
 lessly executed. J. J. J. effected the combination 
 he desired. He blasted his way through. If war 
 has its necessities, so also has finance.
 
 X 
 
 THE REPORTER FROM THE PUNDIT. 
 
 MRS, CORLIS strode back and forth, 
 through the empty rooms, after Uncle 
 Johnny and her husband had gone. The 
 old man s depression and its cause, as revealed by 
 the few words he had let fall, served to stir again 
 in her mind the old impossible question which had 
 pursued her, at intervals, all through her life 
 Why have I more than I know what to do with, 
 while the woman around the corner must pawn 
 her soul to get bread to stop her hunger? " 
 
 She knew how vain the question was. She had 
 assured herself a thousand times that all her riches, 
 however used, could not avail to alter by a particle 
 the eternal division between those who have and 
 those who have not. The Biblical solution she 
 knew was no solution, and, if attempted, must ag 
 gravate the trouble. At times she was even half 
 persuaded the trouble did not exist, except in the 
 fancy of over-conscientious people. 
 
 Mr. Corlis had feudal ideas upon the matter. 
 He believed in great power for the few and in 
 the duty of the few to look after their dependents. 
 His wife observed that in practice, however, he 
 
 90
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 was keen, excessively so, about the power, but in 
 clined to laxity in regard to the obligation. 
 
 He supported his theory of the few versus the 
 many by a dogma concerning blood and family. 
 She had heard it many times. She knew he was 
 vastly proud of the Virginian blood of his mother, 
 and he affected to believe that the virtue of blood 
 endured for generations and that history showed 
 that the natural rulers of society were the few of 
 the patrician strain. Yet observation had taught 
 her that, whatever her husband s abstract respect 
 for blood might be, in conduct he flattered the pos 
 sessors of money and eschewed the acquaintance 
 of impecunious patricians, even such as possessed 
 race-horse pedigrees. 
 
 However, he was convinced of his own right di 
 vine, and perhaps that exhausted the real function 
 of his dogma. His great ambition, to which finan 
 cial and political success were incidental, was to 
 found a family. His wife acquiesced in practice, 
 but she reserved her mind. His instigation was 
 responsible for her complete devotion to fashion 
 able society, and she lent all her resources to aid 
 him in realizing his aim. 
 
 But sometimes it struck her how un-American 
 the aspiration to found a family was; sometimes 
 it seemed to her that the generalization concerning 
 the virtue of aristocratic blood and of patrician 
 family was but a phase of the infinite glorification
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 of self-love. She had great social knowledge, 
 possibly as much as any woman in America, and 
 truthful to herself as she was, with that strong, 
 exact mind of hers, she could not but be aware 
 what preposterous fiction the legend of American 
 families was. At the utmost, descent in America 
 was " lineaged respectability." 
 
 She was passing through the hall in her restless 
 journeying, when she heard the footman refusing 
 a reporter admittance to the house. 
 
 " Mr. Jarrett has left for New York and the 
 family cannot be disturbed." 
 
 " When did Mr. Jarrett leave? " she heard the 
 reporter question. 
 
 "He s left; that s all you ll learn from me, 
 young man," the footman replied. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis frequently did impulsive things, 
 things sometimes that took the breath of her world 
 away. She did one of the least of them now. 
 
 She stepped forward. " Simpkins," she or 
 dered, " tell the caller Mrs. Corlis will see him." 
 Then she walked down the great hall. 
 
 One glance assured her that she had rightly 
 recognized the voice. She extended her hand, 
 smiling with that kindly graciousness that was all 
 her own. 
 
 " It is Christopher Ruggles, is it not? I know 
 you by your eyes, and I have not seen you for at 
 least sixteen years. Come, sit down by me, for 
 
 92
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 I want to learn all about you, Christopher, and 
 what you are doing here in Chicago. Of course 
 you remember what excellent friends we used to 
 be in Primrose Hill." 
 
 But Ruggles had been sent out by The Pundit 
 to find J. J. J. and to interview the latter on the 
 financial situation. Consequently, he had no time 
 to spare, even for a new-found old friend. But 
 while she appreciated his exigency, Mrs. Corlis 
 would not let him go until he had promised to ap 
 pear at luncheon the next day at two o clock. 
 Then she told him where to look for her uncle 
 and he hurried oft to reach the station before Mr. 
 Jarrett s train pulled out. 
 
 She inquired of Mr. Corlis, when he returned, 
 if The Pundit reporter had succeeded in catching 
 Uncle Johnny. No, Mr. Corlis replied, he had 
 himself met the reporter coming in the station as 
 he was leaving it. 
 
 She told her husband that she had discovered 
 an old Primrose Hill friend in the newspaper man, 
 and that she had invited him to luncheon next day 
 in order to talk over old times with him. 
 
 Corlis looked supercilious. 
 
 " I am invariably courteous to newspaper men 
 from policy and I will caution Simpkins for his 
 impertinence," he remarked. " But as for asking 
 a reporter to luncheon they usually are a pushful 
 lot. You say, too, you have known nothing about 
 
 93
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 this fellow since you left Primrose Hill, that you 
 haven t seen or heard of him for sixteen years ? " 
 
 " Oh, as for that, Chris Ruggles was too in 
 trinsically good and simple to have turned out 
 badly," she rejoined. " He is the kind to have 
 made mistakes, but not to have gone wrong. The 
 Pater used to be interested in him and I remember 
 that he always had a mind. I am quite curious 
 to know what he has been through and what he 
 thinks." 
 
 Well, I can tell you one thing, Victoria, if 
 you want to know. McBride has a clever woman 
 who does his investment business and that sort of 
 thing. The Boss and I meet, noons, in her office 
 in " The Obelisk," and that s why I know of her. 
 I have seen this fellow of yours in there. Oh, I 
 don t mean that there is anything irregular. She 
 is too vixenish, I should judge, and knows too well 
 how to take care of herself." 
 
 Well, that kind are sometimes the most de 
 voted. What is her name? " 
 
 " Brown Hildegarde Brown. She looks as if 
 she might be devoted, if she set about it." 
 
 " I hope so. He has a desolate look in his 
 eyes and a capable woman is exactly what he 
 needs." 
 
 "She s all that, I fancy, Victoria." Mr. Corlis 
 laughed. " But don t be too quick in your en 
 thusiasm, Mrs. Corlis," he added. " A reporter
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 as a fad, you know, might be more inconveniently 
 distasteful than a literary upstart, or a sentimental- 
 voiced young clergyman." 
 
 The luncheon next day left Mrs. Corlis in a 
 quandary. It pointed the question : Were men to 
 be divided into two classes, patricians and plebe 
 ians, according to the rank of their ancestors, or 
 the evidence of their o\vn success and failure, the 
 amount of money they possessed, or the degree 
 of poverty they endured? 
 
 The personality of Ruggles itself provoked 
 speculation in her mind. Undoubtedly he was the 
 same old Chris she had once liked so well, when 
 she was a young lady of twenty-three and he a 
 rustic boy of eighteen. The brown beard did not 
 disguise him, nor the stoop in the shoulders alter 
 him. The same familiar simplicity of truth was in 
 his face and the deep blue eyes expressed the same 
 old wistful wonder. They were sadder now than 
 then and the deep lines about the mouth told 
 of spiritual despairs. Otherwise he was the old 
 Chris, awkward as ever he had been, a refined 
 mind and spirit habited within an ungraceful, al 
 most an uncouth, body. Was such mismating of 
 patrician quality and plebeian stuff characteristic 
 of democracy and modern life? Mrs. Corlis won 
 dered. 
 
 Then there were the ideas she had drawn from 
 the reporter. 
 
 n 95
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She had said to him, 
 
 u I beg you to tell me what you are doing, how 
 you have succeeded and for what you are hoping, 
 Christopher." The maternal interest in her face 
 had been beautiful. Just as in the old days; 
 precisely as you used to do. I have cherished very 
 great expectations for you with your intellect and 
 all the knowledge I was sure you would accumu 
 late. Some day, I have been telling myself, I will 
 hear of Christopher; some day he will make a 
 name for himself." 
 
 " But I really have done nothing in the world, 
 as you would count it, Mrs. Corlis," he had an 
 swered, perhaps a bit regretfully, but not at all 
 shamefacedly. She had even suspected that some 
 shade of humble superiority colored the tone of 
 his reply. 
 
 " Tell me, at least, why it is you re working on 
 a newspaper? " she had asked. " Mine is the 
 privilege of an old intimacy, Christopher." 
 
 Simply to make a living," he had said. 
 
 " Become tiresomely practical like all the rest of 
 us in this work-a-day age, you mean ? Oh, Chris, 
 I didn t believe that would be the end of all your 
 dreams." Actual disappointment was in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Nevertheless it is," he had answered, lifting 
 to her his candid eyes. " And, Mrs. Corlis," he 
 spoke earnestly, " from what I have learned of 
 
 96
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 life, to be a good ordinary man is to be quite a suc 
 cess, and to make an honest living a very noble 
 achievement." 
 
 " No doubt." Her acquiescence had been a lit 
 tle cold. " What you say is literally true for an 
 ordinary man. But you never were an ordinary 
 man, Christopher. Are you so much of a Socialist 
 that you must drag yourself down as well as seek 
 to level everybody else? " 
 
 She had smiled as if daring him to accept the 
 classification. 
 
 " Oh, I am nothing, I can assure you, Mrs. 
 Corlis," he had answered with a shrug. " Only," 
 he had added gravely, " I think I may say I have 
 grown more real." 
 
 She had rallied him, a trifle vexed perhaps that 
 he had refused to pose. 
 
 " Oh, then, you are a realist, not a Socialist." 
 She had seen by his flush that her jest to him was 
 earnest. Sympathetically she had bidden, " Come, 
 tell me what is this new gospel, Christopher, if, in 
 deed, it be a gospel." 
 
 His slow face had gradually lighted up, while 
 in the dreaming eyes faint sparkles of defiance had 
 appeared. 
 
 " I will, if you wish it, although I warn you, 
 you will not like it, when I am done." 
 
 " Tell me anyhow, Christopher. I am always 
 interested in whatever you may think." 
 
 97
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " It is not very much. Just this : We Ameri 
 cans are practical people and already we have rid 
 ourselves of most illusions and preposterous fic 
 tions. We like to get down to hard pan, as we 
 say; we dislike to get fooled. I m down to hard 
 pan, or near it. I m convinced that the only no 
 bility lies in work; in helping to bear the brunt; 
 in taking one s share of the hardest. The man 
 who does not is a skulker, a coward, and a lazy 
 bones. To be a knight, a man of honors, chiv 
 alrous within the limits of a class, and a parasite 
 upon toil, isn t to be valiant. The soldier s place is 
 in the breach, and the deadliest struggle is not on 
 the battleship or in the regiment, but in the fac 
 tory and on the farm. To be superior to the com 
 mon duty of mankind is to be affected, vulgar, con 
 temptible, mean." 
 
 Then you believe that aristocracy, so-called, 
 is a sham?" had been her immediate question. 
 " But what of its function to form manners, cher 
 ish refinement, develop art? " 
 
 His lip had curled. 
 
 They play very little part in the whole life of 
 mankind." 
 
 " Exactly," she had argued, " and they would 
 play none at all, but for aristocracy. That is the 
 justification for aristocracy-, its excuse for being. 
 For you cannot deny that those things are valu 
 able?" 
 
 98
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 The man had forgotten the great house he sat 
 In and all conventional respect. His face had 
 grown almost distorted with the force of his con 
 tempt. 
 
 " What cant! " he had cried. " The function of 
 aristocracy, forsooth ! Genius has starved in aris 
 tocratic streets and fools have flouted wisdom in 
 aristocratic drawing-rooms, how often or how sel 
 dom, answer that ! Aristocratic monopoly of any 
 thing, of a true refinement even! Why, the dis 
 tinguishing quality of aristocracy, its superiority, 
 indeed, lies in its ability to pick out the main 
 chance and its ruthlessness in sacrificing all else to 
 securing its practical prosperity. It knows best 
 how to perpetuate its privilege in the easiest man 
 ner. Marriage is its method. Nowadays, for in 
 stance, it s keen after American heiresses." 
 
 " Oh, Christopher, Christopher," Mrs. Corlis 
 had cried, somewhat disturbed, but not at all dis 
 pleased, " you are perfectly incorrigible." 
 
 99
 
 THE SCHEME 
 
 RUGGLES was telling Gard how he had tried 
 to interview J. J. J. and had instead seen 
 Mrs. Corlis, who had invited him to lunch 
 eon. 
 
 " Of course you went," said Gard. 
 
 " Yes. I have just come from there." 
 
 " Why, Chris, you never mentioned it to me be 
 fore, about your knowing Mrs. Corlis so well, 
 years ago." 
 
 " I didn t think to, Gard. Besides, I didn t 
 suppose she d remember it." 
 
 " Just like you," said Gard, drily. 
 
 The two, leaving the office, went out to dinner 
 together. They sought a little German restaur 
 ant, where the beer was good and the music pass 
 able. 
 
 " It is strange," mused Ruggles, aloud, as they 
 sipped their little cups of coffee after dinner, " it is 
 strange how the very system one knows is rotten 
 through and through fosters the amenities of life. 
 I know leisure is vicious and cowardly, and that 
 rich women are parasites, but 
 
 " But what, dreamer? " asked Gard sharply. 
 
 IOO
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Oh, nothing, except that it does one good to 
 come in contact with a cultivated woman like Mrs. 
 Corlis. There is an atmosphere about her that all 
 the laborious virtue and humble heroism never can 
 create; an air of refinement, distinction, what shall 
 I call it? But it tones one up; it satisfies and 
 soothes at the same time that it stimulates. It has 
 an effect like beauty or like music. And, after the 
 brutality of these streets and of the ill-bred people 
 one pushes against every day well, it s heavenly, 
 that s what it is." 
 
 Card received this confession with a bitter 
 smile. Not all her endeavors, devotions, sacrifices, 
 she knew in her soul, could vie with the sweetness 
 of that woman s ladyhood. 
 
 There s exactly where you Socialists all tum 
 ble down," she cried, unconsciously upbraiding 
 him. " In your hearts what you worship is the 
 lady of aristocracy, and you kick because you have 
 to put up with a daughter of the people. Come, 
 let s get out of here; I m sick of sitting still and 
 seeing people eat." 
 
 They quarreled in the street on their way back 
 to " The Obelisk," where Card said she had some 
 extra work to do. That is, she quarreled and 
 Chris acquiesced. 
 
 "What have I done, Card?" he entreated, in 
 his nai ve ignorance. 
 
 " Done? Nothing, you booby," she retorted. 
 101
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " You are not angry because I enjoyed Mrs. 
 Corlis?" he asked, realizing the fact in his slow 
 way. 
 
 " No," said Card, turning her shoulder toward 
 him. 
 
 " Come, tell me what is the matter, Card," he 
 said, making a final appeal as they came to the en 
 trance of "The Obelisk." 
 
 " Can t you see? " snapped Card. " I m jeal 
 ous, that s what I am." 
 
 She declared it fiercely and then laughed. The 
 storm-door shut in Ruggles face. 
 
 He stood alone on the sidewalk, his mouth wide 
 open in astonishment. 
 
 Card, in her office, worked at a typewriter that 
 whole evening. She had started life as a stenogra 
 pher, and it was at McBride s request that she was 
 striking off the copies herself instead of intrusting 
 them to one of the girls she employed. The Boss 
 had called Card to the door of the private office 
 that very noon and had given her the papers, say 
 ing he wouldn t trust them in any other hands but 
 her own. 
 
 An hour later McBride summoned her. She 
 found Mr. Corlis just leaving by the private door. 
 The Boss sat in one of the chairs at the directors 
 table, his paunch thrown out, a broad smile illumi 
 nating his great countenance. 
 
 102
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Well, what do you think of it, Card? I guess 
 you know enough to think." He looked up. 
 
 " Big thing," she answered. " Of course you 
 two highwaymen mean to go through every pocket 
 the blessed public has this time." 
 
 McBride roared. 
 
 You hit out straight from the shoulder, you 
 do, Card. A feller knows where to find you on 
 the spot; you don t have to be fixed beforehand, 
 you don t. Now Corlis, in here, was leary about 
 trustin you with them papers, but I up and told 
 him you knew all my affairs from the inside. That 
 shut him up, and he said he used to know you ten 
 years ago when you was in his office." 
 
 The Boss looked at her interrogatingly. 
 
 " Yes," said Card, flushing a little, " the first 
 position I ever got was in the Traction offices. I 
 was just eighteen when I started in." 
 
 " So that s where you picked up your feelin 
 about Corlis. I can get a rise out of you every 
 time by just mentionin his name." 
 
 " He is a ruffian and a snob at heart," flashed 
 Card, " for all his elegance and his condescension. 
 I tell you, Mike McBride, you ll be sorry yet for 
 the day you went into this deal with him." 
 
 The Boss looked surprised; then he shook his 
 head, got up, put on his overcoat, and walked to 
 the private door. With his hand on the knob, he 
 said, 
 
 103
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " But his wife she s different, Gard." 
 
 " I m tired of hearing about the peerless Mrs. 
 Corlis," replied Gard. 
 
 Alone in the office now, high up in "The Obe 
 lisk," she rattled the typewriter. The details of 
 the whole scheme had been put into her possession. 
 What, for one thing, she copied, were the figures 
 representing the values of the plants and the earn 
 ings of every traction company, whether surface or 
 elevated, of every electric power, and gas and 
 electric light company, and of every steam or elec 
 tric heating company within the limits of Chicago. 
 She copied estimates, also, of what the earnings 
 severally and in total could be made, were all these 
 plants grouped under one management with the 
 economies of centralized administration rendered 
 possible. Some computation, furthermore, \vas at 
 tempted concerning the possible earnings of new 
 electric plants, new traction lines and the like, 
 while recommendations appeared for extensions 
 and improvements in the existing systems and es 
 tablishments. 
 
 In a word, the scheme proposed an absorption 
 of all franchises and privileges that had been 
 granted or should be granted to supply the needs 
 of the people of Chicago in the way of transporta 
 tion, lighting, heating and power. It was a fran 
 chise trust, a monopoly upon all the grants of the 
 
 104
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 municipality, present and future. The bulked 
 profits could be made enormous. 
 
 Card s trained business mind grasped the full 
 nature of the undertaking. She understood the 
 steps that must be taken in order to render the 
 project a success. She realized how much capital 
 would be required to finance the matter; how not 
 only the permission of the city government must 
 be obtained, but probably enabling legislation at 
 Springfield must be secured. She recollected that 
 McBride had mentioned J. J. Jarrett s name in 
 connection with the scheme, so the money was al 
 ready found. McBride himself owned the Mayor, 
 and the Boss and Corlis between them could influ 
 ence the Common Council; thus the municipality 
 could be relied upon. Springfield remained. A 
 legislature might always be bought, perhaps; but 
 generally a governor to be owned must be elected. 
 The convention of the majority party in Illinois 
 met next week to nominate a governor. That the 
 new political combination would attempt to con 
 trol that convention, Card foresaw. 
 
 She recognized the mind of Walter H. D. Cor 
 lis in all this. As she leaned above the typewriter, 
 having finished the last page of copy, she pene 
 trated, she felt, to the depths of his policy, and, 
 much as in her soul she scorned the man, Card s 
 mind admired him his sweep of vision, his grasp 
 of men and things, his sheer audacity, headlong 
 
 105
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ambition, forehanded provision, implacable pur 
 pose. After all, to do him justice, the man if not 
 great was large in his way, that Card admitted. 
 
 Corlis had come to Chicago from the East ten 
 years ago, sent out by J. J. Jarrett to manage his 
 interests in Chicago traction and lighting com 
 panies. Within a year he had been recognized as 
 the practical manager of those corporations. In 
 five years time he had changed the whole com 
 plexion of the street railway problem in Chicago. 
 He practiced conciliation on every side; he grant 
 ed favors to the politicians of both parties; he 
 agreed with the pure aspirations of the reformers 
 who were gentlemen and rendered himself person 
 ally popular with the reformers who were cranks. 
 He flattered editors and did services for the re 
 porters. He consulted public opinion and made 
 proclamation of his ambition to give the city the 
 best possible service for the lowest fare. 
 
 Yet the man who had thus captured the imagi 
 nation and the goodwill of the fiercest democracy 
 in the country, was physically and temperament 
 ally an aristocrat and proud of the quality. He 
 had the manners of the East, the reserve and dig 
 nity, except when he unbent to what privately he 
 called the mob. He possessed as much as any 
 man that physical distinction which rendered him 
 a favorite of women and which excited the enmity 
 of men. 
 
 1 06
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 He escaped criticism from every side. The 
 public liked his patronage; the business men, his 
 ability; the politicians found it to their interests 
 to "stand in" with him; reformers felt he was 
 too much the gentleman for them to suspect him. 
 Society adored him, younger men imitated him, 
 and even staid citizens approved of him. In what, 
 indeed, was he vulnerable? Who dare decry 
 him? what sneer deride him? what calumny 
 harm? He w r as proof at every point. The Jarrett 
 millions supported him; the prestige of his wife 
 enhanced his own; the reputation of Senator 
 Dawes found in him its heir. 
 
 Besides, Corlis had been building up political 
 power of his own. Through her intimacy with 
 Mrs. McBride, Card had an inkling of the un- 
 avowed relations between Mr. Corlis and the Ma 
 chine. In fact, she judged that a secret hard and 
 fast alliance existed, and she suspected about what 
 the conditions had been for years. 
 
 One of McBride s men could always get a job 
 on the Corlis railways. Such aid had proved of 
 decisive value to McBride in maintaining his ma 
 chine. When the accidents of war deprived the 
 Boss of patronage for a season, he could fall back 
 upon Corlis to furnish jobs with which to keep his 
 men in line. 
 
 McBride had risen steadily in power during the 
 last ten years, even as Corlis had w r axed in repute 
 
 107
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 and power. Few knew enough to associate their 
 successes. Respectability had scouted the intima 
 tion as base slander. McBride had gained indis 
 putable control of his party within the last five 
 years; lieutenants of his had gradually become 
 masters in their wards. Three years ago McBride, 
 for the first time, succeeded in completely captur 
 ing " The City Hall." Timothy Murphy, the 
 present Mayor, was McBride s man. 
 
 The Republican Machine which McBride had 
 built up, surpassed everything Chicago had ever 
 known. He had had the secret benefit of Corlis 
 advice at every step, and his model had avowedly 
 been New York s Tammany Hall. Once en 
 trenched in office, the organization had now so se 
 curely wound its tentacles around the roots of 
 power, that nothing short of a revolution at the 
 ballot-box could shake it from control. 
 
 Card reviewed these things in her mind. She 
 closed the typewriter, and gathering up what she 
 had copied, locked it in a secure drawer in the safe. 
 
 Then she stood stock-still in the middle of the 
 room, thinking. She was twenty-eight. Her clear 
 face, despite its beautiful austerity, was young still. 
 Yet she knew better how this world is made than 
 did many experienced men of fifty. The knowl 
 edge saddened her at times, at times made her 
 sick. But she would not have been ignorant. She 
 felt herself the stronger for the knowledge; she 
 
 108
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 had a perfect horror of being fooled. Besides, 
 after all, she found it interesting, wonderfully in 
 teresting, this tragi-comedy. For Card possessed 
 a magnificent zest for life, which was stronger 
 than her distastes or her disgusts or even her con 
 science. 
 
 109
 
 XII 
 
 CARD SPEAKS OUT 
 
 CHRIS RUGGLES found Card at her desk. 
 The desk was strewn with papers in confu 
 sion, though somehow Gard was able to ex 
 tract from the chaos whatever in particular she 
 wanted. 
 
 Upon a mass of papers lay a paper book, open, 
 and over this Gard was laughing to herself, silent 
 ly, in her mirth bowing her head up and down. 
 Her lips, even as she laughed, were screwed half 
 painfully, as if, though she laughed, the jest of 
 what she read hurt her. Perpetual laugher as she 
 was, she had far rather been reverent. 
 
 She wheeled her revolving chair as she heard 
 Chris enter. 
 
 Well," she demanded in a hard voice, with a 
 hard look in her eyes. " Well," she repeated, 
 "what are you doing here? You needn t come 
 here." She studied his sheepishness. You must 
 be afraid, you ve stayed away so long since 
 Wednesday and this is Saturday." 
 Then she laughed. 
 
 " I suppose you thought you d be snapped up. 
 But really you re quite safe." 
 
 no
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Chris hung his head a little lower and experi 
 enced much shame. 
 
 She fell to measuring him with a shrewd eye. 
 
 " Well," she snapped finally, " it s true; there s 
 no sense in denying it, since you know it too. I 
 was jealous, just like other women the same as 
 your aristocrat has been of her husband often 
 enough. Yes, a plain case of jealousy; your mag 
 nificent friend had you too much hypnotized to 
 suit me. But I m over it, I guess." 
 
 The beautiful candor came back gradually into 
 her face. She laughed. 
 
 4 I ve got the devil down; he s squirming now 
 under my foot, and I m your friend again, Chris, 
 you needn t worry." 
 
 He sat down in his accustomed place, upon the 
 leather lounge against the wall. He wished to 
 evince his appreciation of her frank good-fellow 
 ship, but he did not know what to say, unready 
 truth-teller that he was. He continued to look his 
 gratitude, however, and to evade the issue irrele 
 vantly inquired, 
 
 " What have you there that makes you laugh? " 
 
 " A funny book Artemus Ward, in fact. It s 
 the only kind I read; the same taste as Abraham 
 Lincoln, I ll have you note. Your finical culture s 
 not shocked, Mr. Bluestocking, I hope. I have to 
 get my fun where I can understand it, you see. 
 You didn t expect to find me mooning over Brown- 
 
 iii
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ing, did you? " she ended, with a burst of laugh 
 ter. 
 
 " I haven t any fault to find, I m sure," he an 
 swered in all seriousness. " You want to be your 
 self." 
 
 "What else is there for me to do?" she de 
 manded. " I ve got to keep sane in this crush, 
 haven t I? I have to laugh, even if there s not 
 much to laugh at and I d rather not. You either 
 laugh at frauds and fools, or else your soul s em 
 bittered by their poison, I ve noticed. Why, when 
 I ve had an interview with some oily schemer and 
 seen square through his rotten honesty, before I 
 take up bonds and propositions once again, I just 
 pull out old Artemus for a half minute and have a 
 smile. He s my bracer." 
 
 " Caesar compiled a book of jokes," said Chris. 
 The pedantic precedent seemed to satisfy him. 
 " So I guess a Napoleon of finance like you can 
 read a book of them." 
 
 She smiled, but between her smiles she studied 
 Ruggles narrowly again. She saw that he strove 
 to be natural and to put himself on the old terms 
 with her once more. His failure exasperated her, 
 and she expressed herself bluntly, as was her way. 
 Card had a predilection for heroic remedies. 
 
 She pulled Chris up with a jerk. 
 
 " I want to know why you ve not been in here 
 for three days, or rather I want to tell you I know 
 
 112
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 why, and I ll tell you why speak right out in 
 meeting." 
 
 " I have been so fearfully busy," he said, mak 
 ing a lame excuse. " Politics, the last few weeks, 
 have kept me fairly jumping on the paper." 
 
 She disposed of that plea. 
 
 " Stuff ! Go tell that to some one who ll believe 
 it. You didn t want to come, and you didn t want 
 to because you were afraid." 
 
 He tried humorous diversion. 
 
 " Oh, now, you are pretty fierce, but you re not 
 so awfully formidable as that." 
 
 " It s not my fierceness you re afraid of, but my 
 softness," she pressed relentlessly. 
 
 He flushed and strove confusedly to protest. 
 
 " Bother, hear me ! " she cried. You know 
 it and I do too. I confess it, don t I; I m not 
 ashamed of it. But see here, Chris Ruggles, it 
 needn t make any difference between us at all. 
 You can stay my friend, can t you, and whatever 
 else there is, is, in fact, none of your business. 
 Just disregard it, please." 
 
 Ruggles, man-like, felt submerged. Compas 
 sion, involuntary admiration of her courage, a 
 sense of littleness in himself, all stirred in him. 
 Bunglingly he attempted to express what he ex 
 perienced. 
 
 " But you, such a noble woman as you are, 
 
 "3
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Card, you wouldn t think of throwing yourself 
 away on such a misfit as I am." 
 
 " Stop disparaging yourself, Chris, or I shall 
 resent it," she cried, flaming up. " Besides," she 
 fluttered for an instant, " I haven t said a word 
 about marrying you, have I ? So shut up, will 
 you! Or ask me, if you want to, and see how 
 quickly I ll refuse." 
 
 " Oh," murmured Ruggles, overcome with con 
 fusion, " I beg your pardon sincerely, Card." He 
 bent his burning face. 
 
 " Pshaw, Chris, that s all right. All I ve want 
 ed to say, I ve said, and I feel better, too. Now, 
 I want you to come in here every day the same as 
 you have been doing the last two years. I miss 
 you, if you don t. And besides, I m just the sort 
 of friend you need; you can t get along without 
 me, you know. What you require is a manager, 
 Chris, or a mother, and I aspire to be a little of 
 them both, I guess." And Card laughed silently, 
 shaking in her chair. The truth, as she saw it, was 
 most always humorous, despite all that she could 
 do. 
 
 Then she sat looking at him. 
 
 His head was down between his hands. He 
 knew that what she said was the truth. He was 
 dumbly grateful for her friendship, its unselfish 
 ness, its reliability; it was a bank which would 
 cash all his drafts unhesitatingly. In fact, she 
 
 114
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 gave all and asked nothing. And realizing her 
 disinterestedness, he felt ashamed of his honorable 
 scruples and the prudence which had kept him 
 away since her jealous flash over Mrs. Corlis had 
 revealed what he had been too stupid or too hum 
 ble to divine before. 
 
 She seemed to read his mind. 
 
 Yes, believe me, you will not hurt me by com 
 ing as often as ever. I don t want you to stay 
 away; you are such a comfort, such a joy. Now 
 take Artemus here and read awhile. I ve just got 
 to finish up something I must do." 
 
 She wheeled the chair to face the desk. Her 
 long fingers searched skillfully in the muddle of 
 papers and drew forth those which she desired. 
 She shifted them, then became absorbed in what 
 they contained. The softness vanished from her 
 countenance, the aquilinities all standing out keen 
 as blades. 
 
 Chris held the book and looked at her across 
 its top. If he had not had proof of her magna 
 nimity and been the actual beneficiary of it, he 
 would have believed the outline of her profile, so 
 firm, so clear, indicative of cold will and piercing 
 mind alone. 
 
 He sat and marveled as she worked. She had 
 the energy of a steam engine and yet the machin 
 ery glided as if its joints were silk. Her brain 
 stabbed through to the core of business proposi-
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 tions like a knife to the heart of its victim. He 
 had seen her deal with dubious men and handle 
 difficult affairs. She was never cheated, never an 
 gered, never for an instant at a loss. And, al 
 though she understood men through and through, 
 perceived their wiles and lies and schemes, never 
 was induced to ascribe better motives to them than 
 those which really animated them, yet she was 
 able to judge them all in the light of a wide and 
 good-humored tolerance, getting along equally 
 well with a greedy Jew, an unscrupulous Yankee, 
 a coarse vulgarian, or a pompous respectability, 
 and selecting the good point of each. 
 
 She handled many sorts of propositions, bought 
 and sold, promoted, organized. It might be a new 
 patent, a gold, copper, zinc or silver mine, timber- 
 land, real estate, industrials, railway bonds. She 
 passed from one subject to another with facility, 
 and grasped each problem with the same keen 
 power of perception. 
 
 Chris considered these things that defined the 
 differences between them. He remembered how he 
 had met her three years ago and how she had risen 
 since then. She had told him that she had made 
 $11,244 l ast Y ear an d that this year she was sure 
 of clearing $20,000 at least. McBride, because 
 she was the friend of his young wife, had helped 
 " turn things her way " in the first place. Her 
 
 116
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 own ability, industry, and integrity had done the 
 rest. 
 
 Ruggles admired her, if for nothing more, for 
 her power to cope with the world. Even what 
 some might call her faults he ascribed to her vir 
 tues. Her candor was a part of her great cour 
 age; it was not lack of modesty or of womanly 
 feeling, he knew. She feared nothing in the uni 
 verse, and her humor, with her courage, dis 
 counted the effects of the frowns and penalties of 
 the world. She was equal to any man and his su 
 perior, commonly, on his own ground. 
 
 This fine independence, this ability to take care 
 of herself, this aptness for fence and attack, in 
 stead of divesting her of charm in Ruggles eyes, 
 magnified her in his mind. Her prototype he 
 must go far back to find ; he found her in the free 
 Spartan women, or, ideally, in the goddess Arte 
 mis. So America, in her vast freedom, reverts to 
 Hellas here and there.
 
 XIII 
 
 A SERIOUS YOUTH 
 
 CHRISTOPHER RUGGLES was the son of 
 a man who for twenty years had been the 
 village blacksmith in Senator Dawes town. 
 The father was a sturdy, honest, right-minded 
 man, who read between the hours of work at his 
 forge and who conceived intellectual ambitions for 
 his son. It was the story so common to democ 
 racy. 
 
 The boy obtained an education, helped partly 
 by his father, partly supported by his own efforts 
 and the influence of Senator Dawes. He had a 
 studious disposition and a pondering mind. He 
 stood well up near the head of his classes all 
 through college ; he won a fellowship upon grad 
 uation and continued his studies two years longer. 
 
 Moral integrity may be rare ; intellectual integ 
 rity is more rare. Ruggles by the constitution of 
 his mind was perforce a seeker of truth, a speaker 
 of truth, and one who thought truthfully. This 
 quality was developed and sustained by his rigor 
 ous training in science and philosophy, for both of 
 which he had much aptitude. What he lacked in 
 his mental make-up was humor, which is the bal- 
 
 118
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ance wheel of the judgment, and a sense for hu 
 man nature, a thing separable from logic. 
 
 Perhaps he should have become a professor in 
 a college, or have secured a place in which he 
 could have pursued pure science for its own sake. 
 Owing to the debts he had incurred in paying for 
 his education, young Ruggles could not afford to 
 accept the instructorship in his own college which 
 was offered him. Instead he took the principal- 
 ship of a public school in a small Ohio city. The 
 salary enabled him to pay his debts the first year 
 and to live besides. 
 
 He did not succeed as principal. He was pa 
 tient, kind, thorough in his instruction, just in his 
 administration and to the teachers under him. 
 But such virtues were not enough. He did not 
 understand that to perform one s duty is by no 
 means all the game; he had not learned that to 
 treat men with justice and consideration in no wise 
 contents them. He had absolutely no notion of 
 the art of small flattery, of deft deference, of the 
 manipulation of men through their vanities. He 
 was natively so simple that he supposed he could 
 best fulfill his function by telling the truth and 
 trusting each man as a man. 
 
 Naturally he failed to please either the teachers 
 or the members of the Board of Education. He 
 ignored the politics of his place; he reported a 
 teacher as a good or a bad teacher, never consider- 
 
 119
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ing how much of a " pull " the said teacher might 
 have. Even his gravity and dutifulness offended; 
 he could not always prove obliging, while he never 
 could be charged with being " a good fellow." It 
 soon came to be understood among the members 
 of the Board that the principal might be " all 
 right," but that he was " unpractical." That ver 
 dict pronounced upon a man is, in three-fourths 
 of America, as good as a death sentence. 
 
 He lost his position at the end of the year. In 
 the emergency he attempted to obtain private pu 
 pils. There were some men in the town who ap 
 preciated the young man s thorough scholarship 
 and they helped him. By the commencement of 
 the new school year, he had secured a number of 
 private pupils and the promise of others. There 
 was a demand for a teacher to fit boys for college ; 
 if he could succeed with them, a living would be 
 assured. 
 
 He was not an inferior teacher, though perhaps 
 he knew too much. He succeeded moderately the 
 first year. The second he did not obtain quite so 
 many pupils. By the third he had hardly any, and 
 at the close of that year it was evident to himself 
 and to all that he had failed. It was his want of 
 practicality. 
 
 In the first place he ignored his enemies or rath 
 er his detractors. He had no idea that they were 
 busy at his reputation, he was so intently fixed 
 
 1 20
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 upon his own business. Then, if he got along tol 
 erably well with the boys, he failed to please their 
 parents. He felt that he entered a house to teach, 
 not to make a study of the prejudices and tempera 
 ment of the family. 
 
 That first and last of the social graces, flattery, 
 he did not understand in any of its phases from 
 gross to delicate. In truth, he did not perceive 
 that it was tacitly demanded of him to render con 
 stant homage to every exalted shopkeeper and 
 manufacturer of the town. He did not render 
 tribute to human self-love, precisely for the reason 
 that he entertained too much respect for human 
 nature to suppose it desired obsequiousness and 
 falsehood. In fine, to Ruggles the whole constitu 
 tion of " Respectability " was a sealed volume; he 
 fatuously assumed that men wanted truth and that 
 truth was the cement of society. 
 
 There came a time when he had no money in 
 that town, when the soles of his shoes were worn 
 through and his clothes were " seedy." He made 
 heroic efforts to find pupils; he even haunted peo 
 ple s doors. But the fiat of Respectability had 
 gone out against him; he was said to hold too 
 loose views upon religion to render him a safe in 
 structor for growing boys. Besides, it was under 
 stood that at heart he was a Socialist or some 
 thing, and that he did not show his superiors, men 
 of recognized position, the respect due from so 
 
 121
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 young a man. Blunt men characterized him as a 
 " fool." 
 
 Even before the general condemnation had 
 gone forth, Ruggles had suffered. He was the 
 victim, as all men are, of his temperament and in 
 heritance, of his education and its limitations. 
 First a blacksmith, then a scholar, his four years in 
 Ohio had shown him the attractiveness of the 
 merely physical and social life. He perceived this 
 through a window, as it were : he saw it in the 
 gaiety of a small city whose gaiety cannot but be 
 visible to all; he discovered it in the houses of the 
 rich men whose sons he tutored. 
 
 Yet he was irretrievably shut out from that de 
 light. There were clerks who had risen in 
 that town even to the height of marrying heiresses. 
 Manners were not requisite, if one had audacity 
 and jollity instead. Family was much talked 
 about, yet want of it could be forgiven some men. 
 Fellows he had seen who by dint of dressing well 
 and by a modicum of savoir faire had scaled the 
 social rampart, become members of society and fa 
 vorites of women. But he possessed education, in 
 tellect, natural delicacy. Why did these qualities 
 avail him not at all? 
 
 With characteristic candor he formulated the 
 reason to himself; his feet were too big, his 
 body too awkward, his speech too serious and 
 too slow. He would have parted cheerfully with 
 
 122
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 a block of his mental attainments, if that would 
 have sufficed to render him a graceful dancer. He 
 was even on the verge of despising mind and ad 
 miring flippancy; he confided to a friend that he 
 wished he might possess some lightness of tem 
 perament instead of so much blacksmith virtue 
 and scientific precision. 
 
 There came a night when a loaded pistol lay 
 upon his table and he meant to use it before dawn. 
 Without, a golden moon rode in a silvered vault, 
 while the breath of spring puffed the listless cur 
 tains at the open windows. Standing looking at 
 the night, the conviction came to Ruggles concern 
 ing nature which had come to him concerning hu 
 man intercourse, that both might be very beautiful 
 were he only fitted to respond to their demands. 
 
 He leaned far out of the window. The silent 
 streets were paved like magic thoroughfares, the 
 new-leafed trees rustled with faint joys, and over 
 head the arch of heaven deepened vast and filmy. 
 
 " Ah," he thought, " I am not in all ways out 
 of tune; I can chime with this moonlight s ether 
 eal melody. This also is a part of life, as much as 
 that in which I have no part; and therefore, I 
 may stay." Into his mind there floated those di- 
 vinest of all words, 
 
 "Magic casements, opening on the foam of perilous seas 
 and fairy lands forlorn." 
 
 I2 3
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 As the fragrance of a precious wine may do, 
 they heartened him. 
 
 Why should he succumb? He would adven 
 ture ! The world, the various world, lay spread 
 before him. Putty cannot be galvanized; neither 
 can provincial respectability be civilized. But he 
 would not remain to die its victim ; he would fare 
 forth. 
 
 Before dawn he had set out. He left a note for 
 his landlady, promising to send back the twelve 
 dollars he still owed her, as soon as he had earned 
 them. 
 
 He tramped three hundred miles northwest 
 ward across the Indiana prairies. It took him the 
 summer through to reach his destination. He 
 worked his way. The contact with farmers, hired 
 hands, with tramps and other men of the same va 
 grant spirit, interested him; they were primary 
 men; they constituted the front rank of society in 
 the battle against Nature. 
 
 He worked with his companions on the farm; 
 he walked with them upon the highway; he got 
 jobs in the gangs along the railway; he heaved 
 sacks, loading wagons. From the lips of all he 
 heard the name Chicago. It seemed the Mecca of 
 all toilers and all outcasts; its magnitude and op 
 portunities enthralled the crude imagination of 
 men who lived by their hands. It promised a pro- 
 
 124
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 fusion of work and amusement, a multitude of 
 chances, sights, sensations, experiences. 
 
 Half consciously, therefore, Ruggles shaped his 
 course by the attraction of that tremendous load 
 stone. 
 
 Thus Chicago beckoned ahead of him, looming 
 monstrous, ugly and almighty. It, was the arche 
 typical industrial city, the complete representative 
 of the modern age, as Rome had been of the an 
 cient world and Venice of the Renaissance. There 
 was no past about it, even near, no towers, tradi 
 tions, temples. It was built upon the naked 
 prairie, built of steel. Possessed of colossal bar 
 barities, its glories were meats and grains and 
 metals. It had invented the bridge style of archi 
 tecture, the stockyards and the whaleback. It 
 reeked of industrialism; it was a gross compound 
 of money and of muscle. Its achievements, bru 
 talities, energies, candors, democracies, opulences, 
 Justs, like its products, its foods and its steel, were 
 characteristics, unalloyed, of the age of to-day. 
 
 This dream or this apprehension of Modernity 
 it was that saved him. Learning and the atmos 
 phere of Philistine prosperity had near made him 
 mad, but now he perceived, vaguely, the magni 
 tude of his times; he became enamored of the 
 manifestations of the pulse of tremendous life. 
 For he was a mind; his story is the history of a 
 
 125
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 mind, as that of others may be of a passion, or of 
 a conscience, or of a career. He suffered the de 
 fect of his idiosyncrasy; while he pondered upon 
 larger questions and sought to find truth diligently, 
 he missed the practical moment and allowed the 
 concrete chance to go by. 
 
 Thus came the usual crisis. Upon a Sunday 
 night the following summer in Chicago, Ruggles 
 walked in State street with seven cents in his 
 pocket and no prospect of work for the morrow. 
 
 Week days, State street is an exaggerated coun 
 ty fair. Sunday nights, in summer, it is more curi 
 ous still. The broad roadway is vacant, the huge 
 department stores are tenantless, while the show 
 windows, which like wide, golden stripes streak 
 the lateral walls, present to slowly moving crowds 
 panoramas of all the goods and treasures their 
 covetous souls desire. The motley procession fills 
 the sidewalks and individual collisions constantly 
 occur; for the populace of Chicago walk as coun 
 try people walk, all over the road. 
 
 That night the orators were holding forth at 
 nearly every corner, while groups, forming, disin 
 tegrating, re-forming, clustered about each. To 
 some of the listeners the oratory afforded a sort of 
 open-air theatre; the most, however, good-natured 
 and skeptical, were merely " taking in " whatever 
 they encountered and lounged off, after a minute, 
 unpersuaded. Balm was offered for all humors: 
 
 126
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 at one corner a man from a box expounded " The 
 Single Tax"; at the next a red-hot Socialist de 
 nounced the Rothschilds; further on a woman, 
 who was the new incarnation of the Messiah, 
 prophesied; halfway up another block, a fat 
 evangelist with a trumpet voice sang a Methodist 
 hymn from the deck of a gospel wagon, and then 
 unctuously urged the change of heart which meant 
 so much to the middle nineteenth century and 
 means so little to us now. 
 
 Ruggles stopped at many points and, for want 
 of else to do, listened to the orators. His half at 
 tentive ear caught presently the strain of an old 
 hymn which once had helped console his father 
 for a hard life in the smithy. It drew him to the 
 ring of idlers like himself who formed about the 
 singing lasses of the Salvation Army. Stanza fol 
 lowed stanza ; to a dolorous tune the words in 
 vited tired men to rest in Jesus. 
 
 The rank sentimentalism comforted the hope 
 less young man somehow; he fancied it must be a 
 trick of heredity. But the verses did solace while 
 they lasted, and he realized what might be the 
 force of their appeal to overburdened men upon 
 the eve of another week of toil. His eyes filled in 
 voluntarily, for there was brought home to him 
 with sudden truth the life-predicament of the hard- 
 handed father whom in his soul he honored as a 
 hero; he recognized what was the perennial plight 
 
 127
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 of the majority of men, what constitutes the old, 
 tedious, sordid, irresponsible tragedy. 
 
 " Are you looking to get converted? " a wom 
 an s voice asked at his ear. 
 
 Startled, he turned and through the mist in his 
 eyes saw a tall young woman of a severe and noble 
 beauty. 
 
 " Oh, I wish it were all as easy as just that," he 
 answered. Somehow the dialogue seemed natural. 
 
 " So do I," she rejoined. " If I could think it, 
 I d be standing in the gutter there, along with 
 those girls, instead of criticising with you here on 
 the curb. But you," she gave him a long divining 
 glance, " your face shows what you are, and I 
 guess you need something for which a Salvation 
 Army conversion would be a mighty thin substi 
 tute." 
 
 A droll expression, queerly mixed with pity, did 
 not so much diminish the keen edge of her shrewd 
 observation as soften it. 
 
 " You re right," he answered candidly. " But 
 I am a man without friends, so I m thrown back 
 upon spiritual consolation." 
 
 " The common way," she laughed silently*. 
 " But don t be bitter. Come walk a block with 
 me, and mebbe I can help you. You never can 
 tell." 
 
 Thus began his friendship with Card Brown. 
 She helped him, became what she termed his 
 
 128
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " manager." She divined his perplexities without 
 understanding them; she gauged his intellectual 
 quandaries; she had reverence for his mind and 
 knew him for a baby. With swift practical insight 
 she immediately fixed upon what he could do; she 
 sent him with a note to the great MacPherson, the 
 militant editor of The Pundit. 
 
 " Humph," squeaked MacPherson, " if Miss 
 Brown says you can, you can. Her judgment of 
 men s infallible, young sir. Hang up your hat 
 and go to work." 
 
 What prompted you to help me?" Ruggles 
 asked her later. 
 
 "Did you ever see a blind kitten with the look 
 of the wise philosopher?" she explained. 
 " Well, I never did either." 
 
 129
 
 XIV 
 
 THE SENATOR 
 
 MRS. CORLIS drove across town to the sta 
 tion to meet her father. The last division 
 of her route lay through unlovely streets 
 in which vice was squalor s only contrast. The 
 sights, the noises, and the odors were repugnant to 
 the pampered senses of the luxurious woman who 
 rode through in her carriage. She wished, if pos 
 sible, to screen them from her, and reclined far 
 back in her seat. Then abruptly she reproached 
 herself, asking if she were, indeed, as Chris Rug- 
 gles had intimated concerning all her class, a cow 
 ard. Did she, for a truth, fear to encounter the 
 coarse realities of life? Could her excessive deli 
 cacy endure the storm only when it was tempered, 
 clamor only when set to music, objects only when 
 they were adorned? 
 
 At the station she learned that the train was a 
 quarter of an hour late. She grew restless sitting 
 in the carriage and accordingly alighted and went 
 inside. She walked about over the broad board 
 platforms under the dusky iron vaulting, and, as 
 she paced to and fro, she drew attention to herself, 
 as with her always happened. The best defense 
 
 130
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 against scrutiny, she knew, was scrutiny of others, 
 and so she forgot herself in her interest in them. 
 
 Men stood in groups here and there about the 
 station. Some were talking privily in the ears of 
 others; some were relating anecdotes; some loud 
 ly argued. They all were scheming or discussing, 
 or manufacturing popularity. Mrs. Corlis recog 
 nized them for what they were, and, if she had 
 not, the manner in which they showed they were 
 acquainted with her own identity, would have in 
 formed her. Her instructed eye, indeed, distin 
 guished their stripe and class; knew that they 
 \vere Illinois and not national politicians, that the 
 most of them hailed from down the state, and that 
 probably not one of them owed allegiance to Boss 
 McBride s machine. She was even certain that 
 they came from middle Illinois, as apart from 
 Egypt or Chicago, and from the small cities and 
 the larger towns, instead of from the rural dis 
 tricts. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis, walking and waiting, measuring 
 these men in diversion, felt her nerves thrill sud 
 denly. This instinct for appraising men was in 
 the blood, was it not? Had she been a man, she 
 also would have been a politician. 
 
 The men gathered here, men of many sorts and 
 various passions intriguers, arguers, orators, sor 
 did seekers of offices and loot, sentimentalists with 
 a flux of language, lovers of power and influence
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 purely for its own sake, but all of them local lead 
 ers, chiefs in their town or district or clan they 
 had come to the station to meet their chief, to 
 warm him with their devotion, to warn him with 
 their knowledge, to welcome him home. Some 
 would strive to get first word with him, some 
 would cheer him with a bit of good news, some 
 would whisper of defection in an unexpected quar 
 ter in order that he might not be left in darkness 
 to make a mistake. But all were his sworn 
 friends, his followers, his henchmen. They would 
 shout for him, work for him, cheat for him, lie 
 for him, who was their idol and pride, their states 
 man, their great man. 
 
 She felt that it was beautiful, this loyalty on 
 their part and this leadership on his. She would 
 have liked to shake hands with each and all of 
 them and thank them personally for her father s 
 sake. 
 
 And she thrilled again; she knew by the re 
 spect within their eyes that they recognized her 
 for the daughter of their chief. The Dawes pas 
 sion in her stirred; could a woman lead, she felt 
 she could claim the succession from her father and 
 prove her claim successfully. Had she only been 
 a man, she would have been a natural adept in 
 the art of managing men ! She possessed the sym 
 pathy with human nature and the understanding 
 of it, too; she knew men s passions and their in- 
 
 132
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 terests, how to lead, how to magnetize, how to 
 combine some statesmanship with the necessary al 
 loy of demagoguery. 
 
 The politicians crowded toward the gateway at 
 the head of the long receiving platform, as the 
 train slid in. 
 
 A tall, stoop-shouldered, thin old gentleman 
 came shambling down the causeway, in his wake a 
 young man carrying two hand bags. Mrs. Corlis, 
 watching, caught a glimpse, and her heart smote 
 her. 
 
 The old face seemed so wan and the faded eyes 
 so sunken. The worn skin hung in wrinkles as if it 
 were loose leather, and the long, bony arms 
 flopped at his sides like plucked wings. Indeed, 
 he looked not unlike some grotesque, giant bird. 
 He wore black clothes a black frock coat, open 
 in front and flapping dismally. A silk hat was on 
 his head, and it was not brushed with care. His 
 shoes alone seemed finished and that was due to 
 the porter of the Pullman car. Altogether he re 
 sembled the figure of some rich western farmer, or 
 with his close-shaven upper lip, some Methodist 
 bishop whose qualities were craft and piety. 
 
 He approached the gate. Of a sudden, at a 
 point, the slouching figure stiffened, the old head 
 came up, the beak of the nose showed like a blade, 
 and even the straggling whisker seemed to bristle. 
 His eye had sighted the reception that was await- 
 
 133
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ing him. The old war-horse of politics sniffed ex 
 citement just ahead; it gladdened him. The 
 goodly aspect of those assembled politicians re 
 called the old days of his prime. 
 
 He did not get away from them for three-quar 
 ters of an hour. He knew each man by name and 
 called his home and district. He stood in the 
 midst of what resolved itself into an impromptu 
 reception, distributing hand-shakes and smiles with 
 references that showed each man that he was re 
 membered and checked off in his leader s mind. 
 Cold-blooded as " Uncle Simeon " was reputed to 
 be, and chilly-veined as, indeed, he looked, some 
 how strong magnetic currents radiated from his 
 personality that hour in the depressing station, and 
 produced in his followers a species of loyalty and 
 devotion worth more than acclamation and vocif 
 erous cheers. How the effect was wrought, no 
 man could say. Perhaps, in part, it was the influ 
 ence of the Senator s great name and his reputa 
 tion in the past. For Simeon E. Dawes was some 
 what of a fetich in Illinois. 
 
 Some unique quality must have endowed him 
 with power, for he was unaided by any large fund 
 of vitality, and in temperament he was not espe 
 cially genial. Nor could his intellectual processes 
 be considered dazzlingly brilliant. While an ef 
 fective speaker, he was neither a sentimental rheto 
 rician, nor an irresistible logician. But he was 
 
 134
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 something of a philosopher and by virtue of that 
 fact he had arrived at a creed of democracy and 
 a recognition of the folly of affectation or assumed 
 superiority. He had no pretenses, no pomposities. 
 He genuinely respected each man, apart from 
 what each man owned. He was, in fine, that 
 character of a past generation, an old-fashioned 
 American gentleman. 
 
 He had taken off his hat to his daughter as the 
 press of friends first engulfed him. And she stood 
 smilingly to one side, an amused and delighted 
 spectator. Gradually he worked his way to her 
 through the throng; it was an half hour s prog 
 ress. But she did not grow impatient or tire of 
 the spectacle, though she suffered standing so long 
 on her feet. 
 
 When at last he drew clear of the clinging poli 
 ticians for a moment and turned to her, she 
 greeted him with shining eyes and put up her lips 
 in daughterly duty to be kissed. 
 
 She saw his pride in her and how he seized the 
 advantage of her compliant temper. 
 
 " Wood, Johnson, Crawford," he declared, and 
 she perceived some shade of his Washington grand 
 manner magnifying his deportment, " I want you 
 to know my daughter. Let me make you ac 
 quainted with Mrs. Corlis. Victoria, these gentle 
 men are my friends. Mr. Johnson, of Sangamon 
 county, Mr. Wood of La Salle, Mr. Crawford of 
 Kankakee." i-?-
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 He continued introducing all his friends. With 
 American adaptability they formed up in a string. 
 He beckoned them to advance with his right hand 
 and waved his left as he presented a new follower 
 to his daughter. 
 
 It tickled her sense of humor. She liked the sit 
 uation. She adjusted herself, smilingly, to the or 
 deal, divining how much a little tactful condescen 
 sion might aid her father. Besides, the politician 
 in her stirred and she warmed genially with the 
 human democratic impulse. Never, not in Wash 
 ington or Newport, had she been statelier or more 
 kind; never had her dark eyes streamed greater 
 fascination or her magnanimous spirit shone more 
 brightly in her face. 
 
 The climax set her laughing and her laughter 
 was provocative of mirth. An ancient farmer 
 politician wagged her gloved hand furiously in his 
 horny paw. 
 
 " I ve heard of ye and yer goin s on, down in 
 Pipeville, Clay county, whar I wuz raised. And 
 I m danged if ye ain t a chip off the old block, an 
 I knowed the Senator for forty years. Now if ye 
 wuz a man, ye d make as good a mixer as yer 
 pop." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis was seated in the carriage and the 
 Senator had his foot upon the step. Politicians 
 clustered close. 
 
 " But where did you say you d be found, Sen- 
 136
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ator? " was the last question. " Where do you 
 put up? " 
 
 " Oh, I ll be down at The Palmer House to 
 night, mebbe late, but I ll be there, boys. Of 
 course I ve got to go home with my daughter for 
 awhile she wants me, don t you, Vicky? " 
 
 You can t escape. We shall keep him for din 
 ner, gentlemen, and then we will send him down 
 to you. He never will consent to stay all night 
 with us, you know." She smiled upon them all. 
 
 Too much for a plain old man," chuckled the 
 Senator in a stage aside. " I ain t much on high 
 life myself." 
 
 The Senator got into the carriage, while a mur 
 mur of approval came from his followers. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis, leaning toward them, declared 
 with an arch smile, 
 
 " Gentlemen, I am sorry to take him away from 
 you; but you will forgive the claims of affection, 
 I know. I only wish I might have you all to din 
 ner for my father s sake and my own pleasure." 
 
 She bowed and swept them a glance. The Sena 
 tor raised his silk hat, as the blooded horses started 
 the carriage with a rush. The men left behind felt 
 the spell. 
 
 " My God, ain t she a hummer," summed up 
 Crawford of Kankakee. 
 
 137
 
 XV 
 
 THE SENATOR ACCEPTS 
 
 4fT AM glad to have you close," she said, in the 
 
 X sincerity of a primitive affection. She slid 
 her hand into his. She added with a fond 
 smile, " And Uncle Johnny comes to-morrow. 
 Then I shall have all my men." 
 
 He pressed her fingers in reply. He appeared 
 too busy with his thoughts for audible response. 
 She, watching, saw the careworn face grow keen 
 was it to the point of cunning? then darken, as 
 with lack of hope in any of his schemes. 
 
 But seemingly, as with an effort, he thrust aside 
 his thoughts and turned to her his whole attention. 
 
 " When this convention hubbub is all over, 
 daughter, and before the real campaign begins, 
 you must go with me down to Primrose Hill, to 
 our old house in the country there. As I look 
 back, those were our happiest days, the days you 
 were a little girl and I your father who filled the 
 world for you." 
 
 "Simple, beautiful, happy days!" she whis 
 pered. 
 
 " Ah, that they were," he said. " Summer days 
 138
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 of quiet after winter s work, and I had all I ever 
 wished to charm my leisure books and views and 
 my little girl. Do you remember, Vicky, the fa 
 mous books we read together, Milton and old Vir 
 gil, and the majestic music of the verses? And 
 then, our garden." 
 
 " And the dogs, the dear dogs, father. Do not 
 leave them out. I think still of their graves be 
 neath the great elm tree, and I wonder if they are 
 kept green." 
 
 " And the sunsets, and the river, and the run of 
 the level prairies." 
 
 " Yes, father, yes; one cannot speak adequately 
 of things too deep for words." 
 
 The carriage rolled on. Chicago s clamor, 
 through whose midst they rode, could not vex the 
 intimate communion of those two souls, who, 
 though of generations which differ as does faith 
 from want of faith, yet in intellectual sympathy 
 were closely akin. 
 
 But, when the carriage crossed the bridge into 
 the quieter North Side, Mrs. Corlis roused herself 
 to practical activity. The exigency of pressing 
 facts imposed upon her the immediate duty of per 
 suasion. 
 
 " Pater," she commenced vivaciously, " who 
 do you suppose is invited to meet you at dinner to 
 night? You can never guess, and so I shall in- 
 
 139
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 form you outright. It s Mr. and Mrs. McBride 
 -Boss McBride." 
 
 She paused to note the effect of the name. 
 There was no positive effect. Only a gray veil 
 seemed to shut down over the features of the Sen 
 ator, obscuring expression as fog may abruptly 
 blot a landscape. Long years had made this neu 
 tralization a habit with the old politician, when 
 any emergency obtruded ; it was automatic, like an 
 eyelid s fall, an instinctive defense. 
 
 She queried meekly, 
 
 1 You are not displeased? " 
 
 He answered by asking in the driest tone, 
 
 " And McBride accepted, did he, knowing it 
 was I he was to meet? " 
 
 Yes, indeed," she said cheerfully. " He was 
 told it was expressly to meet you. And, father, I 
 wish you would be friendly with him please, be 
 cause I ask it " a touch of her old childish insist 
 ence sweetened her blandishment for him. I 
 have taken so much trouble to prepare the way. 
 He is willing, indeed, quite anxious, to let bygones 
 be bygones; for in his heart, father, he admires 
 you and he says you are a statesman." 
 
 The last word stirred the Senator. 
 
 " Listen, father, please, to me. That man is 
 not all bad; I have found some unsuspected good 
 things about him. I was surprised. He has either 
 been maligned or he has not been given his due. 
 
 140
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Some day I must tell you the story about his wife, 
 and you will agree with me that the big, rough fel 
 low possesses not only a heart but some knightly 
 qualities chivalrous traits I have seen gentlemen 
 fail in." 
 
 She looked into his face, charmingly confident 
 of her own power. 
 
 " Now then, confess, Mr. Statesman, I am not 
 your own daughter for nothing." She bridled as 
 she went on, "I am a bit of a politician too. The 
 plot was mine, though I made Walter connive in 
 it, and I have tamed the tiger, I believe, and all 
 you will have to do will be to stroke the beast the 
 right way to set it purring. Please ! I ll never be 
 content until you and the Boss have become the 
 best of friends. You won t be naughty and make 
 all my work go for nothing, will you, Pater? 
 Promise me! " 
 
 The sense of what she said seemed not to pene 
 trate into his mind at once, and she continued to 
 look up pleadingly. Then, gradually, the conceal 
 ing veil dissolved before his countenance, but with 
 it disappeared what in the face seemed most ven 
 erable. Eager cunning, grasping emulation peered 
 forth from the old eyes, and the hawk nose and 
 cavernous cheeks assumed a Machiavellian aspect. 
 You don t say so," he abruptly gasped, and 
 thrust his face into hers. " McBride s amenable, 
 you mean? He s ready for a deal? " 
 
 141
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 He sank back against the seat, raising a hand 
 and dropping it with a thwack upon his knee in his 
 excitement. 
 
 " Thank God," he murmured, " thank God." 
 
 She was loath to acknowledge all she was forced 
 to perceive; she preferred to admit only the joy- 
 fulness of his relief. Yet even that seemed to 
 smack of unction, and, despite her will, she was 
 impressed with the Phariseeism of that shaven 
 upper lip. 
 
 The more she considered, the more his quick ac 
 quiescence seemed, in a way, shameful. Even she 
 apparently had not then gauged the shiftiness of 
 opportunistic politics. She had counted on a bat 
 tle royal to bring him to her plan; she had ex 
 pected citations of principle and parade of scruple 
 against striking hands with one whom he had de 
 nounced again and again as " a modern freebooter 
 and a chief danger to the nation." Instead (she 
 could not but employ the simile her husband had 
 used to describe what he declared her father would 
 do) he had risen like some greedy trout and taken 
 with a rush and gobble the bait she had fancied 
 she must take pains to cast skillfully for his entice 
 ment. The prompt surrender sickened her. 
 
 She took herself to task, however. If she were 
 doing man s work, she dared not allow woman s 
 delicacy to intrude; she needed to remember that 
 politics, if anything, is the science of compromise 
 
 142
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 and adjustment. She knew that well had not 
 her father always said that a reformer was one 
 who insisted on the best way or none at all, while 
 a politician secured whatever good could be got 
 ten? 
 
 Besides she was loyal to her men; she was de 
 voted to her father s cause. Even against princi 
 ple would she not have helped him? Essentially 
 she was a woman whose loyalty to her concrete 
 passions would, in any crisis, dominate her abstract 
 devotions. Remorse, given the proper exigency, 
 she might have been willing to endure in the cause 
 of love. 
 
 Mr. Corlis, entering his wife s sitting-room, 
 found her ready to go downstairs. Some slight 
 cynical amusement twinkled coldly in his pale eyes, 
 while a half smile slightly lifted the close-cropped 
 black mustache. Mrs. Corlis divined the subject 
 of his mirth and anticipated the subject of his re 
 marks; but she nevertheless experienced from his 
 presence a relief. He, at least, was palpably what 
 he appeared handsome, fascinating, selfish, ma 
 terial, and he took pride in all these qualities. No 
 duplicities of complexity were coiled in him; no 
 shades of hypocrisy made problematical his hue. 
 Yes," she answered the question of his man- 
 
 10 143
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ner. " It was as you said it would be. You are 
 always right. So clever." 
 
 " Humph, I wouldn t feel cut up about it, Vic 
 toria. Politics is the art of being spry. The thing 
 te to keep in office, not to keep right, or even to 
 keep honorable. I, for one, admire the adaptabil 
 ity of the old fox." 
 
 " Don t ! " she begged, bending that he might 
 not gloat over the pain in her eyes. Presently she 
 asked hopelessly, " But is not statesmanship 
 more than politics? Are there no principles?" 
 
 To succeed is to be a statesman ; to fail is not 
 even to be a politician," he retorted smartly. 
 " And to retire on the grandest principle is to 
 fail." 
 
 She sat in her stiffest attitude, elbow propped on 
 knee, chin on her palm. 
 
 " But he was a statesman once," she murmured, 
 as if to herself. " He had ideals he fought for 
 the Republic and the People." 
 
 " Oh, they all start that way," Mr. Corlis 
 sneered. " Your rhetorical politician generally 
 commences as a sentimentalist. The Senator in 
 his youth, no doubt, was a true believer; but he 
 has progressed until he s recognized as the wiliest 
 old customer in the West. When they think 
 they ve cornered him, he s certain to break out in 
 a new spot. It was Ransom six years ago ; it will 
 be McBride this year." 
 
 144
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She rose with a sigh, and stood a moment pen 
 sively. Then a curious smile swept her face. 
 
 " Let us go down and manage the menagerie," 
 she said. 
 
 On the stairs she glanced back at her husband, 
 who was following her. 
 
 To sum it all up, as they say nowadays, every 
 thing goes." 
 
 Yes, anything," was Mr. Corlis slight amend 
 ment to her flippancy.
 
 XVI 
 
 THE MEETING OF THE MINDS 
 
 MRS. CORLIS made the dinner a success 
 that night. She tuned the discordant 
 strings assembled into harmony. The 
 whole performance was wrought to minister to her 
 father s good. Yet never had she so sharply real 
 ized what indeed she had long dimly guessed, that 
 politics does not consist of great ideas, masterful 
 leaderships, and noble devotions to democratic 
 principles. She had before her eyes its play, its 
 use of petty forces, its employment of the meanest 
 arts, its flatteries and smiles. It was no better 
 than society, she thought, and she understood why, 
 if the father had succeeded in politics, the daugh 
 ter had climbed to eminence in society. 
 
 Senator Dawes looked, indeed, not unlike the 
 elder worthies of the Republic. If not a reproduc 
 tion, he was a respectable imitation. His ascetic 
 countenance, his worn eyes, his shaven lip, the nat 
 ural gravity of his features, and the dignity of his 
 bearing, were calculated to impress men. He 
 would have become the Roman Senate, and he was 
 more than a passable ornament in the American. 
 
 146
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 He inclined to McBride, however, to a degree 
 his daughter felt was due only to distinction. He 
 smiled so largely, lent so much attention, addressed 
 his remarks so pointedly to the Boss, and so 
 marked his appreciation of every utterance that 
 fell from the Irishman s lips, that Mrs. Corlis 
 grew half ashamed of the spectacle. Vainly she 
 sought relief in her husband s eye; he would not 
 respond. She could see how he was enjoying the 
 exhibition smiling, cynical, his humor pleased 
 with the asinine possibilities in venerable old men, 
 and with the exigency that promoted a vulgar 
 Irish boss to equality with a famous statesman. 
 
 Yet, as the dinner advanced, she could not but 
 perceive that the tactics which had appeared to her 
 a mere display of bad taste, were winning the bat 
 tle for the Senator. McBride apparently was cap 
 tivated; he squirmed delightedly under the ful 
 some flattery, much like a fat toad that feels the 
 sun s caress. He warmed to the Senator and 
 showed his pleasure by diffusing a rank good-fel 
 lowship. Evidently the personal admiration he 
 had confessed for Senator Dawes was not a pleas 
 ant invention of a dinner guest. Ignorantly he re 
 spected the high prestige of Illinois " grand old 
 man," and, therefore, nothing could be sweeter 
 to his taste or more gratifying to his pride than to 
 be made so much of openly, " to be played for " so 
 
 147
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 strongly by the statesman he had looked up to as 
 " out of his class." 
 
 After all, then, Mrs. Corlis could not but con 
 clude, she was witnessing still another demonstra 
 tion of her father s consummate knowledge of hu 
 man nature. It was a new chapter in the book, 
 " On the Government of Men," and it might be 
 entitled, " The Art of Charming Bull-Necked 
 Gentlemen From the Slums, or Coarse Flattery 
 for Coarse Personages." 
 
 On the other hand, Mr. Corlis gained in her 
 eyes. He was incapable of making an exhibition 
 of himself; he never was ridiculous. He man 
 aged McBride with dexterous ease, deftly flat 
 tered him, considered him without the appearance 
 of doing so, and never proved wheedling in his 
 blandishments or ungraceful, though he stooped 
 to conquer. He sat at the head of the table, ele 
 gant, cool, and armed cap-a-pie, a perfectly poised 
 man of the world, possessed of the knack of get 
 ting on with any man, yet never himself a man 
 whom any other would think of slapping on the 
 back. Such was the eminently feminine judgment 
 of Mrs. Corlis. 
 
 Meanwhile she had Mrs. McBride on her 
 hands. And, had she known it, her gracious 
 treatment of the Boss s wife was no small factor in 
 the disposition of the Boss to be amenable to the 
 Senator s persuasion.
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Mrs. McBride was overdressed and overawed, 
 but instinctively she snuggled up to her hostess as 
 if confident of that lady s kind indulgence. She 
 simpered much at first, and did not know what to 
 do. Her meekness was her defense, however, for 
 she seemed not so much badly bred as just not 
 bred at all. Once she realized the breadth of 
 Mrs. Corlis protecting wing, her fears subsided 
 and she purred comfortably like a little cat. 
 
 Gretchen had expected that Mrs. Corlis would 
 prove to be a starched-up lady, bent first of all 
 upon convincing her inferior of her own infinite 
 superiority. Instead, when Mrs. Corlis called, 
 Gretchen found in her a woman who made no 
 pretensions, who seemed content to let her quality 
 speak for itself. As she said to her " Mike " 
 afterwards, with that just perception which at in 
 tervals is given to simplicity, " It must be she 
 knows that I and everybody else knows who she 
 is, so it don t worry her whether other people 
 know or not." 
 
 As the last course was served, the talk turned 
 upon the political condition of the state. Egypt 
 was what interested every one. 
 
 As Mr. Corlis succinctly stated it, 
 
 " Does the dog wag the tail, or the tail the dog, 
 is what we want to know." 
 
 " The Senator can tell," Boss McBride said 
 flatteringly. " Did Governor Ransom ever con- 
 
 149
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 sort much with them Silver fellers until this last 
 winter? " 
 
 " Well," said Senator Dawes, judicially consid 
 ering his answer; " well, I guess Randolph always 
 cherished a kindly feeling for the heresy and the 
 advocates of the heresy; but by himself he 
 couldn t stir up Egypt the way she s boiling now. 
 Randolph sort of saw the chance and he jumped 
 into the lead, that s all. But don t mistake, gen 
 tlemen. Allow me to impress it on you now, this 
 is no cabal, or kick of disgruntled politicians; it s 
 a regular Mississippi flood, and, if all right-think 
 ing men don t get together hard, it will not only 
 sweep the Republican party out of power in the 
 nation, in the state, and in the cities " he tapped 
 the table to emphasize the cities for McBride 
 " but it will put the country back in civilization 
 fifty years." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis brightened. The statesman was 
 appearing now. The two men looked at the Sen 
 ator to hear more. 
 
 He continued, 
 
 The very fact that such an astute and experi 
 enced politician as Randolph Ransom has cast in 
 his fortunes with that cause, is to my mind pretty 
 conclusive evidence of the movement s magnitude. 
 I ve known Randolph ever since he was a boy; I 
 knew his father intimately before him; and I tell 
 you frankly, gentlemen, that you people in Chi- 
 
 150
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 cago are miscalculating if you think the Governor 
 does not know what he s doing, where he s headed 
 for. He does, he does, every time." 
 
 " How do they feel about our row in Washing 
 ton? " presently asked Mr. Corlis. 
 
 " Deeply concerned, deeply so," replied the 
 Senator, shaking his head oracularly. " I saw the 
 President a half hour Thursday afternoon. He 
 has an eye closely fixed on the situation here, gen 
 tlemen. He urged upon me not once nor twice the 
 necessity of our getting together in order that the 
 purpose of the Silver men in the convention may 
 be frustrated. His last words to me were, Tell 
 my friends, all my friends, that Illinois this year 
 sounds the key-note for the whole country. Let 
 not that note be Silver. 
 
 " He did not advise that we come out squarely 
 against Silver, did he?" Mr. Corlis asked, with 
 his disbelieving smile. 
 
 " He is not prepared for that as yet. He 
 doesn t want men like Governor Ransom read 
 fairly out of the party, without chance for repent 
 ance or time in which to change their attitude. I 
 think his idea is that Illinois Republicans, by get 
 ting together and avoiding unseemly quarrels, 
 should rather discountenance Free Silver as an 
 issue than by directly condemning it antagonize 
 the Free Silver element who are still in the party." 
 
 " The President, I take it, does not wish us to
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 anticipate the action of the National Convention 
 two years hence," said Mr. Corlis, by way of in 
 terpreting the Senator s statement. 
 
 " It is too early, he believes. Silver by that 
 time may have hung itself, if allowed plenty of 
 rope. Consequently he hopes rather for party 
 harmony at this time than for party determina 
 tion," explained the Senator. 
 
 " Humph," ejaculated Mr. Corlis, " he calls 
 for a modern miracle by which he would have us 
 mix oil and water in a perfect blend. Just like 
 him, that." 
 
 " I m with you, Senator, on that proposition," 
 declared McBride. " Harmony won t hurt none; 
 it s a mighty good time for us to get together 
 strong. Them s the Senator s and my sentiments 
 exact." 
 
 In this " pow-wow," as he styled it in his 
 thoughts, and not all of which he understood, the 
 Boss shrewdly discerned the offering of the olive 
 branch. He gratefully signified his acceptance of 
 the same. He agreed openly with Senator Dawes, 
 because he knew that the Senator thereby tacitly 
 pledged himself to cease his war upon the Cook 
 County organization and to recognize the Ma 
 chine as entitled to a share at Springfield and in 
 Washington. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis arose, when coffee was served, and 
 152
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 took Mrs. McBride away with her, leaving the 
 men alone with their politics and wine. 
 
 Once in the drawing-room with her guest Mrs. 
 Corlis realized how little they had in common. 
 There was a moment of embarrassment, until the 
 hostess solved the problem by conducting the 
 flaxen Gretchen to the nursery and exhibiting con 
 trivances for the care of babies. 
 
 Gretchen glowed and found her tongue. She 
 sat down with the great lady under the light of a 
 gas jet and babbled of children. Mrs. Corlis was 
 surprised to find the prattle interesting. The ma 
 ternal sense was stronger in her than she herself 
 supposed, for its objects in her case had not been 
 her children so much as her husband and her 
 father. Without understanding why, she spoke 
 to her guest of her own two children at school in 
 the East, whom she feared she had neglected more 
 than she should in her occupation with social life 
 and affairs of ambition. 
 
 Mrs. McBride showed her sympathy in her own 
 way. 
 
 And Mrs. Corlis held Gretchen s hand and 
 patted it, while that child, who was a wife, gur 
 gled about her own babies and their father 
 11 Mike." 
 
 " And Mr. McBride," Mrs. Corlis said, " he is 
 very fond of children, I know. A good husband 
 is always a good father." 
 
 153
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " He is both," declared Gretchen with convic 
 tion. " I m so glad you think good of him, Mrs. 
 Corlis. It takes his own family to know how real 
 good he is. Oh, Mike is a first-class family man." 
 
 " I can well believe that," Mrs. Corlis an 
 swered. " His gentleness to you is evidence 
 enough. And, when he was here before, he told 
 me something about his sons and about his little 
 girl, as he calls you." 
 
 " He is so good he is the best man of them 
 all," bleated Gretchen rapturously. " And he s 
 never said an unkind word to me, Mrs. Corlis, not 
 one in all these four years he s married me. He s 
 never thrown it up at me, not once, what he took 
 me from, and what I d be to-day if he hadn t." 
 
 The German Madonna face looked up at Mrs. 
 Corlis, and the eyes had pearls in them. She 
 prattled on, 
 
 " I don t suppose I ought to talk to you this 
 way, Mrs. Corlis, and perhaps you didn t know 
 of it or you wouldn t have had me here. But, if 
 I ain t too impudent, you have such a way with 
 you, and I feel just as safe with you as I do with 
 Mike himself." 
 
 " You must not be troubled, Gretchen you 
 will let me call you Gretchen, I am sure. I m 
 coming to your house often; I dearly want to see 
 the babies and to play with them, if you will let 
 me." 
 
 154
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Let you ! " The soft eyes shone. " I should 
 think I would. Why, I d do anything you said. 
 You see, I thought beforehand I d be awful scared 
 of you, you re such a high-up swell and all that. 
 But I m not a teeny bit, you are so sweet and 
 lovely, and you ve got something so good and 
 motherly about you." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis smiled at the impression she had 
 produced, and stroked the soft fair hair. 
 
 The idea seems a trifle foreign to my style, 
 dear Gretchen, but perhaps let s pray God it s 
 so." 
 
 From smiling she fell into a musing fit, curling 
 Gretchen s hair between her fingers in her abstrac 
 tion. Gretchen sat worshipful and mute. 
 
 Presently: I have been too proud and too 
 ambitious, I m afraid, and I want to be a little 
 kind and humble before I die. Do you under 
 stand me in the least, I wonder? Perhaps not, 
 but it doesn t matter, dear. It s only that I ve 
 done too much to make distinctions between peo 
 ple, to help some to be exalted and to tread upon 
 others necks. And now, too late, it comes to me 
 that I need to love and sympathize a little in the 
 common human way. The failures, after all, 
 count up for so much in the world, and I have had 
 to do only with the successes the hard, the false 
 successes. Gretchen, you will be my friend and 
 help me, will you not? " 
 
 155
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Gretchen looked up with a pitying and a grate 
 ful face. 
 
 " Of course I will," she stoutly said. " I am 
 that proud you want me for your friend. The way 
 most ladies treat me, I d suppose I wasn t good 
 enough to do their wash." She smiled in almost 
 smug content. " But I guess you know whether 
 I ain t or not." 
 
 156
 
 XVII 
 
 BEFORE THE CONVENTION 
 
 UNCLE Simeon Dawes u put up " at the 
 Palmer House " straight enough." As he 
 informed his daughter, it would never do 
 at this time of stress and strain for him " to quit 
 herding with the plain people." He could not be 
 expected to consort much with such an unmiti 
 gated aristocrat as his own daughter, at this crisis 
 anyhow. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Senator Dawes needed to 
 be close to the heart of things at all hours and at 
 all moments. His hand must feel the throttle, his 
 touch gauge the pulse, his experience and resource 
 be immediately available to cope with circum 
 stances as they arose and to bend opinion while it 
 remained ductile. 
 
 Therefore he took a parlor and a suite in the 
 Palmer House. On one side were the headquar 
 ters of the State Central Committee, and on the 
 other those of the Cook County Republican Club. 
 
 The Sunday and Monday, which intervened be 
 tween the Saturday of the Senator s arrival in 
 Chicago and the Tuesday when the Convention 
 would convene, were consumed with the mending 
 
 157
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 of small matters. But no crisis developed. Plans 
 were yet embryonic, and combinations, if such did 
 exist, too unconfessed. Better stated : Issues had 
 not yet been sharply joined; animosities had not 
 come to a head; alliances were not yet consum 
 mated; while the forces that governed, not sure 
 in their own minds of exactly what they wanted, 
 refrained from the use of influence and persua 
 sion. But conflict was in the air; the suppressed 
 electricity was felt, and rumors and reports flew 
 thick as the city s smoke. 
 
 Senator Dawes did not get beyond the threshold 
 of his rooms those two days. He was constantly 
 engaged in receiving visitors, of whom all sorts 
 and sizes filled his outer chamber. " Uncle 
 Simeon" was no "Chinese god "; to seclude him 
 self had never been his policy. He kept an open 
 door; at Washington he would do impossible 
 things for man or woman who hailed from Illinois, 
 and when in the state he was accessible to any 
 one of his constituents, which meant any one who 
 called. In fact, he thought it was no time wasted 
 to be bored by any fool who chose to bore him, 
 and in this manner he had come to be acquainted 
 with thousands of the solid citizens and plain peo 
 ple of Illinois. The Senator considered that he 
 never knew when or where he might need some 
 humble friend. 
 
 There were degrees, however, to " Uncle Sim- 
 158
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 eon s " hospitality this season at the Palmer 
 House. In the outer parlor the many herded, and 
 they were a host. There the Senator entered every 
 hour or so, passed through their midst, smiled, 
 shook hands with each man of them as if he w,ere 
 a long lost friend, perhaps vouchsafed a word or 
 two, rarely a promise. He evinced, moreover, a 
 surprising faculty of shaking off a too importunate 
 or too enthusiastic visitor, yet without giving great 
 offense. 
 
 In a second room sat groups of four or five, 
 men come from this or that locality, either dele 
 gates or substitutes, or powers behind petty 
 thrones. To these the Senator appeared, when 
 summoned; for them an open cigar-box lay upon 
 the marble-topped table. The Senator slipped 
 into the room with an air of mysterious inscruta 
 bility, treated each man as if he were a confidential 
 friend, leaned a hand upon his shoulder, whis 
 pered in his ear, nodded a solemn head upon re 
 ceiving the advice. When a cheap politician quit 
 that second room, he carried away an impression 
 of how important the Senator thought him, and 
 of how much the Senator intrusted to his discre 
 tion. In reality the Senator had extracted what 
 ever gold there was and had deposited a brick in 
 its stead. 
 
 There remained a third room, the sanctum. 
 Cigars (two for a quarter) and bottles of sound 
 
 11 59
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 rye and bourbon were articles displayed upon the 
 mantel-shelf. There lounged Crawford of Kan- 
 kakee, Johnson of Sangamon, and Wood of La 
 Salle. They drank the whisky and smoked the 
 cigars. They conferred frequently with " Uncle 
 Simeon s " secretary, a lean young man, tall as a 
 telegraph pole and buzzing like the wires with 
 news. 
 
 The Senator spent his unoccupied time in there 
 also. He smoked an occasional cigar and now and 
 then took a nip of the Kentucky dew. Also he 
 conferred and sometimes he swore, that is, after 
 looking first to see who were in the room and 
 then at the window s and doors. When he swore 
 his profanity was vigorously voluminous, and yet 
 it acted as a sort of moral pinch of snuff, for after 
 ward he was particularly mild and easy. That the 
 now sainted statesman ever had the habit, is one 
 of the state secrets of Illinois. 
 
 Into the sanctum during those two days w y alked 
 many leaders, but at no time entered McBride or 
 Mr. Corlis or any of the Cook County men. 
 
 Within those three rooms in those two days 
 " Uncle Simeon " played many parts. He simu 
 lated in succession the pious respectability, the 
 honest farmer, the ponderous statesman, the cour 
 teous old-fashioned gentleman, the confident poli 
 tician, the abused and betrayed old man. He 
 
 160
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 passed through the transformations deftly, a little 
 thing accomplishing the whole change. 
 
 The shoulders fell, the mouth drooped, the 
 voice took on a doleful tone, and he appeared the 
 martyred friend of the people, the noble man with 
 the breaking heart, whom rascally politicians were 
 victimizing. A lift of the chin, a solemn light 
 upon the brow, and behold, Illinois great states 
 man, a prop of the nation, the pillar of the state. 
 A drawl, a flat tone, a loosening of the gaunt 
 anatomy, and lo, you have farmer Dawes, who 
 calls Cuba " Cuby," as he draws the back of his 
 hand across his mouth and nostrils. A few curves 
 and an added deliberation to his movements, and 
 you see the country gentleman of old-time stately 
 breeding; you notice how small his foot is and the 
 delicacy of his long thin hands. Ah, it is a circus 
 to watch " Uncle Simeon s " metamorphoses a 
 half-day through. 
 
 An old friend of the Senator, a rich man, who 
 had made some of his money out of politics, 
 dropped in to see how things were getting on. He 
 was thick and big, given to corpulence and humor. 
 As a Connecticut Yankee by birth he had a cyni 
 cal insight into motives and the nature of the ma 
 jority of mankind. 
 
 He stood up close to the lean and wrinkled 
 statesman, while the two clasped hands. 
 
 " Well, Senator, I thought I d just come up to 
 161
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 see how things are with you. You know you have 
 my best wishes." 
 
 " Cordial thanks, Bissell. A man has need of 
 all the friends he s got, and I need em every one 
 just now." 
 
 Well, I hope you ve got a-plenty, Senator. 
 How does it look? " 
 
 " Hopeful, hopeful, that s all that can be said." 
 The dolorous tone matched the dolorous look of 
 the old man s face. They re pressing me pretty 
 hard, for all that s in em, I guess. And they 
 aren t above any methods to defeat me." 
 
 Bissell smiled his broadest smile; he knew the 
 Senator s bait for pity. 
 
 " Oh, I guess you can teach those fellows a few 
 tricks yet, Senator. I d like to see the chap can 
 teach you anything humph, Senator, he ain t 
 been born." 
 
 " It s hard to be compelled to expect nothing 
 except fraud and knavery, nevertheless," the Sen 
 ator complained. " I have to depend a great deal 
 on men s words. Now, if I can accept what the 
 boys personally promise me, there won t be any 
 trouble to speak of about my getting the indorse 
 ment of the Convention. But I have to take it on 
 credit, and some of the boys may go back on me." 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " Pshaw, Senator, cheer up," Bissell said reas 
 suringly; " you ve lost less from that cause in poli- 
 
 162
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 tics than any man I know. When the fellers tell 
 you a thing, usually it sticks. You ve got a way 
 with you, you know. Come, you needn t look so 
 injured, I m not jollying; I m telling you God s 
 truth." 
 
 " I hope so, I hope so," replied the Senator 
 with unction, " as much for their sake as my own. 
 It always comes as a shock to me to meet with the 
 perfidious side of human nature; old as I am, I 
 never have gotten used to it." 
 
 Yes, you re an innocent, you are, Senator," 
 laughed Bissell. " And when you get down to 
 brass tacks, I guess you ve suffered less from 
 treachery than any man I know in public life. 
 You ve no cause to be cynical concerning your 
 friends, Senator." And Bissell actually winked. 
 ; Well, I guess you will pull through. When you 
 croak with an injured air, I always know you re 
 fixed pretty much all right." 
 
 Although for the Convention week the head 
 quarters of the Cook County Republican Club 
 were next Senator Dawes, the seat of power re 
 mained in its accustomed quarters in a back room 
 off McMahon s saloon in Clark street, just in the 
 rear of " The Obelisk." There, ordinarily, any 
 " worker " might get audiences with the Boss any 
 day. In that little dingy room he sat almost every 
 week day in the year from eleven o clock to four, 
 
 163
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 when he left to drive his fast pair of trotters until 
 he went home to dinner and to Gretchen. There 
 his cold luncheon was served to him, and, while 
 he ate, he listened. 
 
 A low black desk separated him from his call 
 ers; behind it he sat in a stuffed cushioned chair 
 and chewed a fat cigar. He seldom opened his 
 mouth except to question sharply; commonly he 
 preferred to nod his willingness or his refusal. 
 The men who came in " to see the old man " stood 
 in awe; their genial Boss was strictly " bizness " 
 during business hours. He was " the chief," a 
 heavy-jowled, thick-eyebrowed man, with close-cut 
 black hair, bull neck and amorphous countenance, 
 who heard reports impatiently, yet attentively, 
 and issued orders that were as dictatorial as they 
 were explicit. There were no appeals from Mc- 
 Bride. 
 
 Not only orders but at times much money, it 
 was understood, passed across that low black desk, 
 the money in the reverse direction from the orders. 
 McBride was noted not only for the close grip he 
 kept upon the personelle of the organization, but 
 for his personal and irresponsible handling of the 
 revenues. Men known to a portion of the public, 
 but not necessarily to the politicians, frequently 
 slipped into the back room and paid down in coin 
 (McBride would accept no checks) tithes from 
 gaming places and from brothels. 
 
 164
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 A door and entry separated the back room 
 from the rear of the saloon. Sometimes it was 
 open, sometimes shut; but in the entry always a 
 Cerberus was on guard. He was a grizzled, ro 
 tund, common creature, but gifted with the im 
 agination of the Celt. A long consorting with 
 politicians had supplied him with a curious knowl 
 edge, so that from the point of view of the pre 
 cincts he had become a shrewd critic of men and 
 affairs. Moreover, his was not a humorous im 
 agination; he took the whole thing as seriously as 
 if he had been a judge upon the bench. 
 
 He knew whom to admit at once and whom to 
 hinder; he knew the moods and habits of his 
 master, and " workers " knew he was worth as 
 siduous cultivation. 
 
 " The statesmen," he announced to a new ward 
 lieutenant, who had not yet " arrived," and hence 
 needed some instruction, " the statesmen, young 
 feller, are just now in solemn council behind this 
 here door. All the big bugs of the organization, 
 I want you to understand, are conferrin with the 
 Boss himself. If you se was in there now you d 
 hear enough political wisdom to set Ireland free. 
 They have heads, them fellers. Some are alder 
 men in the City Hall, and they know a heap about 
 government, I m tellin you. Sometimes I get a 
 whiff myself of what s doin through a crack, and 
 I want to say, young feller, they will compare 
 
 165
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 favorably with the debates in the Congress of the 
 United States. 
 
 You want to know what I think about how 
 the Convention is a-comin out you want to 
 know, do you? Well, them yaps up here from 
 Egypt, they may have the thinks, but thinks, I m 
 tellin you, won t organize no convention where 
 Mr. McBride s a-sittin in. Them yaps ll realize 
 before they get enough that they re up against 
 trained statesmen, when they set out to buck the 
 Cook County organization, I m tellin you." 
 
 166
 
 XVIII 
 
 THE CONVENTION HALL 
 
 MRS. CORLiS and her uncle, Mr. Jarrett, 
 had seats upon the platform in the Con 
 vention hall. 
 
 The platform, like a promontory which half 
 cuts a lake in two, commanded the whole audi 
 torium. Before it lay the pit, a flat oval, in which 
 the chairs of the delegates were ranged. Behind 
 it, and enveloping its sides, extended a plateau 
 whereon the desks of newspaper correspond 
 ents and reporters were set, as well as many 
 benches for favored spectators. Round about the 
 entire hall, in steep terraces up to the very roof, 
 circled the galleries for the people, some fifteen 
 thousand seats. 
 
 The platform itself was broad. Its most con 
 spicuous feature was furnished by the thick, hard 
 wood table, without cloth or ornament, which 
 was centrally placed in front. Behind the table 
 extended a row of capacious leather chairs and be 
 hind the row, in turn, were the seats of honor, a 
 score or two. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis from her place of vantage on the 
 platform could sweep the house. As usual, she 
 
 167
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 achieved a picturesque effect, and people won 
 dered who she was until they guessed that she 
 could be no one else, of course, than the daughter 
 of their Senator, the niece of J. J. J., the wife of 
 W. H. D. Corlis. 
 
 The galleries were packed, for the newspapers 
 had exploited the three-cornered fight, and all Chi 
 cago talked of nothing else, and made bets as to 
 the outcome. The galleries cheered their heroes, 
 applauded the band, cracked jokes and ate pea 
 nuts. The convention was a minstrel show, plus 
 grand opera, for them. 
 
 A thousand and more delegates sat crowded to 
 gether within the oval arena. The aisles between 
 the grand divisions of space were themselves nar 
 row, so that nothing distinguished the delegations 
 from the different counties except the slim poles 
 which bore aloft the placards announcing the re 
 spective county names. Besides such official stand 
 ards, there were here and there other poles and 
 placards which presented, in big, black letters, 
 mottoes and sentiments, generally a proclamation, 
 sometimes a challenge, perhaps a taunt. 
 
 For example, to the left of the platform, where 
 in deep array sat the Cook County men, a big 
 square transparency twirled above their heads ex 
 hibited successively four sides: " Regular Organ 
 ization " "McBride " " Cook County Repub 
 lican Club " " We Swallow Jonah." Above the 
 
 168
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 transparency itself, upon the end of the pole, was 
 stack a gilded whale with a wide mouth, open. 
 The device was supposed to signify to intelligent 
 observers that the loyalty for which the " Ma 
 chine " was noted pledged anticipatively its sup 
 port to the Convention s choice, however distaste 
 ful that choice might prove. 
 
 The delegates upon the right marshaled them 
 selves under a simply framed canvas, lettered on 
 both sides so plainly that the topmost gallery 
 might read: " Egypt " " Restore Silver to Its 
 Rights." Erected alongside this canvas was a flat 
 transparency purporting to constitute a portrait. 
 Underneath appeared: "Governor Randolph 
 Ransom." 
 
 In the center, the station of the middle and 
 upper counties of the state, two ornamental pla 
 cards were conspicuously upreared. One was a 
 daub, inscribed, " The Grand Old Man of Illi 
 nois." The second likewise was a daub, under 
 written, " Your Uncle Simeon." Unquestionably 
 the purpose of each sorry proclamation was to 
 glorify the same leader. 
 
 The galleries had applauded each standard 
 as the respective delegations marched into the hall. 
 Governor Ransom s photograph received some 
 applause, but the Silver placard immediately 
 following was greeted with hisses and hoots. 
 The agricultural delineations of Senator Dawes 
 
 169
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 elicited some cheering of a rather perfunc 
 tory sort. But first sight of the gilded whale set 
 the enthusiasm loose. The Cook County Machine 
 tramped in, the redoubtable McBride himself at 
 the head. He strode along unmoved under that 
 hail of cheers, the great black head of him held 
 squarely, no smile upon his powerful face. He 
 plumped into his seat, the first next the aisle on 
 the platform s left, and looked about unconcern 
 edly, exchanging a remark or two with Mayor 
 Timothy Murphy, who filled the next chair. 
 
 The galleries were packed with Cook County 
 Machine sympathizers, it was clear. That had 
 been a feature of the scheme of Corlis and Mc 
 Bride, when they had captured the State Central 
 Committee a year ago, and were thereby enabled 
 to name Chicago as the Convention city. The 
 Cook men, as hosts having charge of the arrange 
 ments, controlled the distribution of the tickets of 
 admission. They had been allotted in blocks to 
 the ward leaders, with orders to have contingents 
 of shouters present. That the contingents were 
 present for duty was plain. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis surveyed the scene through her 
 glass, studying with some intentness the several 
 features. Beside her, his head not much above 
 her shoulder, sat J. J. J. His dark eyes, under 
 half-closed, heavy lids, had a far-away look; yet 
 
 170
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 to have supposed that he missed anything would 
 have been a sad mistake. 
 
 " Vicky," he rumbled in his deep voice, " lend 
 me a quarter. You always have money to burn 
 and 1 haven t a scurvy copper. I m thirsty, and 
 I m going out and get a glass of beer. I ll be 
 right back." 
 
 When he returned, he settled deeply into his- 
 seat. 
 
 " Vicky," he said with a little chuckle, " Vicky, 
 we re going to see a lot of human nature, regen 
 erate and unregenerate, before we get through. 
 Those galleries up there think they ve some to da 
 with it, and those gentlemen, the delegates, think 
 they decide. But the Bosses, they ll run the dele 
 gates ; that you ll see. Who runs the Bosses, you 
 won t see. But, since you always like to know, 
 I ll give you the tip. Your old Uncle Johnny, 
 sitting back here unnoticed; you must always 
 count him one, when anything is doing. It always 
 has been so; it s going to be the same here now. 
 As they say in the West, watch my smoke, Vicky." 
 
 But the Convention hummed importantly, as if 
 its master were not watching it. And the unknown 
 master moodily looked on saw galleries go wild, 
 saw delegations with their heads together, saw 
 politicians busy and important, saw McBride 
 chewing a toothpick masterfully, saw Senator 
 Dawes revolving in his mind sentences to sway the 
 
 171
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 assembly, saw Corlis smiling in his own conceit. 
 And the master, one of that new American breed 
 of world masters who have succeeded grand 
 seignior, war-lord, orator and parliamentarian 
 he blinked and yawned a little, and sought, with 
 covert hand, the fingers of his niece, happy be 
 cause he had her company assured to him for 
 hours, and because he was certain that the Con 
 vention would gratify her pride. 
 
 The Chairman of the State Central Committee, 
 exercising the prerogative of his place, raised the 
 heavy wooden mallet and brought it down upon 
 the hardwood table. The blow not only dented 
 the tough grain, but called the Convention to or 
 der. It was just twenty-six minutes before noon. 
 
 The Convention came speedily to order. Every 
 one had been waiting for nearly two hours, time 
 enough to reduce their restlessness and assure 
 their subordination. 
 
 After some brief formalities the Chairman 
 named for Temporary Chairman of the Conven 
 tion, Senator Simeon E. Dawes. A roar greeted 
 the announcement. It was vociferous in the center 
 of the Convention and perfunctory from the Cook 
 County men, except for the knot of reformers, 
 some sixty strong, who represented the "better ele 
 ment " minority of Chicago. As for Egypt, she 
 sat sullen. 
 
 While it is customary for conventions to accept 
 172
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 the nominee of the party committee for Tempo 
 rary Chairman, there are occasions when a strong 
 opposition to the faction in control of the Commit 
 tee has shown fight at once and elected to test re 
 spective strengths at the outset. Would the " Sil- 
 verites," the delegates from Egypt, put up a can 
 didate against Senator Dawes, who had obviously 
 been named by the new Dawes-McBride-Corlis 
 combination? 
 
 True, the Egyptians sulked, but Governor Ran 
 som gave no sign. He sat at the head of his co 
 horts on the right of the platform. His arms 
 were folded and his head was bowed; he did not 
 look up. 
 
 It was moved, seconded and carried that the 
 vote of the Convention as a whole be cast for Sen 
 ator Dawes as Temporary Chairman. There was 
 no dissent. 
 
 b Is this here Convention going to pan out a 
 regular love-feast, a four-flush thunder storm?" 
 inquired a disgusted delegate of his neighbor. 
 
 The combination has shown its hand and 
 Ransom don t dare call it, even. He always was 
 a first-class bluff, and what we d better be doing is 
 getting into the band-wagon before all the seats 
 are gone." Thus commented a shrewd political 
 trough-feeder from middle Illinois. 
 
 u Guess it s all settled and we can go home. 
 Uncle Simeon for senator and some Chicago 
 
 173
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 silk-stockin for governor that s the bill. Never 
 seen good intentions beat out money yet." So sur 
 mised a weak-kneed Silverite, who had bent before 
 the storm before he got into the Convention, and 
 proposed to bend to another now that he had 
 crawled in on his belly. 
 
 The Chairman of the State Central Committee 
 presented Senator Simeon E. Dawes to the Con 
 vention. The Temporary Chairman received an 
 ovation, as the newspapers reported it next morn 
 ing. The galleries got up; McBride led the dem 
 onstration of the Cook County men; northern and 
 middle Illinois saluted with enthusiasm their old 
 leader. Governor Ransom himself was on his 
 feet, according his one-time chief a dignified recog 
 nition. Egypt, at Ransom s back, cheered the 
 man for the sake of the past, but their cheers had 
 a formal ring. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis was standing on her chair, her 
 Uncle Johnny upon his. 
 
 "Ain t it grand?" he shouted in her ear. 
 " Five minutes by the watch. He s a grand old 
 Roman. It takes Americans to yell like this." 
 
 They yelled for " Uncle Simeon," for " The 
 Grand Old Man;" in a lull, some one cried for 
 " Illinois Grand Uncle," and a laugh went up 
 amid the cheers. They were in dead earnest and 
 in roaring farce at the same time. Men, who were 
 screaming in genuine admiration for the Senator, 
 
 174
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 winked an off eye at a neighbor, as if to say, " We 
 mean it, by hookey, but we do. Can t we just 
 make cussed asses of ourselves, though?" The 
 neighbor, he winked back, "Let her loose, Bill; 
 throw her wide open; it s a mighty good excuse 
 for being boys again." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis, on her chair, caught the infection 
 of the multitude. She wanted to laugh and to cry. 
 She would have thrown them kisses to thank them 
 for their fervor and then have urged them into it 
 "Go it, go it, good fellows, go it!" in the 
 same fashion men " sic " dogs into a fight. 
 
 The cheering suddenly died down. The gal 
 leries relapsed into spectators. The delegates, 
 having " let off steam," coolly grinned at one 
 another and sat themselves down, at first in 
 patches, then in blocks, and finally in toto. They 
 looked inordinately pleasant, as if in the second 
 stage of contemplation of a good joke. 
 
 Senator Dawes, as is the custom, addressed the 
 Convention before he assumed the performance of 
 the duties of Temporary Chairman. He was a 
 type of a great past, the last representative, per 
 haps, of the men who had fought the Civil War 
 for the preservation of the Union. He was rugged 
 old Cromwellian timber, inlaid with Jeffersonian 
 tolerance and smoothed at the edges with modern 
 humanism. An old-fashioned dignity sat on his 
 gaunt frame; the authoritativeness of the old 
 
 /"
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 style lawyer and preacher informed his delivery. 
 His speech was studded with homely quaintnesses 
 and colloquialisms of the farm, yet, originally, he 
 must have moulded his orations on classic models, 
 on Hamilton and Webster. 
 
 It was an able speech, sufficiently eloquent; still 
 more, it was an adroit speech, consummately tact 
 ful. It appealed to the past and the party s 
 former glories, and the stalwart body of the con 
 vention asked for nothing more. Present ques 
 tions were ingenuously ignored and " burning 
 issues " glossed. Silver was not once mentioned. 
 Practically it was a plea for party regularity and 
 that with the least disturbance of dangerous sub 
 jects. It was the brief presented in behalf of those 
 in office who desired perpetuity and immunity 
 from worry. It illustrated one truth, despite 
 itself, that no man can live vitally in other than 
 his own generation. 
 
 176
 
 XIX 
 
 THE PERMANENT CHAIRMAN 
 
 THE sun rays, entering by the western win 
 dows high up in the wall, by the time Sen 
 ator Dawes had finished his address fell at 
 an acute angle with the Convention floor. The ra 
 diance formed an obscurity of golden dust, flam 
 ing against the eastern galleries after traversing in 
 long lights the body of the hall. 
 
 Under this haze and glory, this illuminated 
 obscuration, the Convention settled itself seriously 
 to business, or attempted to do so. For expecta 
 tion electrified the air. The word somehow had 
 crept about that Egypt meant to fight when the 
 time had come to choose a Permanent Chairman. 
 Ransom, it was whispered, had been reluctant 
 openly to oppose his old chief, or to refuse him 
 the complimentary honor of the Temporary Chair 
 manship. But the matter of the Permanent Chair 
 manship appeared to the Governor in another 
 light; the contest for it would constitute a trial 
 of strengths, and to secure it would be to gain an 
 advantage in the organization of the Convention, 
 which would insure the power of appointment to 
 the committees. 
 
 177
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Senator Dawes declared the Convention open 
 to nominations for the office of Permanent Chair 
 man. 
 
 Instantly a delegate was up, demanding recog 
 nition. In twenty words he presented the name 
 of Governor Randolph Ransom of Clay County. 
 But Egypt did not cheer what applause there 
 was came desultorily from scattered Silver men in 
 the center ranks. The mercurial galleries, even, 
 felt the grimness of this mute reception of their 
 leader s name by the Silver delegates. Yet Ran 
 som and not another had been put forward in 
 order to pick up every vote possible and make a 
 show for Silver at the very outset. 
 
 Half a minute later State Senator Brady arose 
 amid the Chicago men. He secured the Chair 
 man s recognition, despite a score of delegates 
 who were demanding it. The Convention noted 
 the collusion. Brady had a bull s throat and a 
 voice like a trumpet; moreover, he was notori 
 ously the official megaphone of McBride. 
 
 Quiet greeted him; delegates and galleries 
 strained to hear whose name he would pronounce. 
 He loved to talk, but he had the Boss s order to 
 " cut it mighty short." He spoke two hundred 
 words and placed in nomination the name of Wal 
 ter H. D. Corlis of Cook County. 
 
 The Machine " let loose " a yell, and the 
 packed galleries howled approval. Egypt ex- 
 
 178
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 hibited the excitement of surprise, and the lean 
 Ransom walked about, advising with this lieuten 
 ant and with that. Upper Illinois was " left 
 guessing;" it was clear the Chicago Traction mag 
 nate had been " sprung " on them. They did not 
 relish the nomination unqualifiedly, but they had 
 witnessed their chiefs arbitrary recognition of 
 Senator Brady, and now Crawford, Wood and 
 Johnson were busily passing the word that it was 
 understood Cook County was to have the Perma 
 nent Chairmanship; consequently, the bulk of the 
 conservative stalwarts sat in stolid acquiescence. 
 
 The Chairman ordered the Convention to a bal 
 lot. Some delay in preparing for it ensued, and, 
 meantime, discussions broke out everywhere. 
 
 The division on the coming ballot meant a 
 square issue between the two ends of the state, 
 Egypt and Chicago. Each had named the man 
 after its own heart. The question was, for whom 
 would the majority of the remainder of the state, 
 comprising, in whole, between one-third and one- 
 half of the delegates, elect to cast their votes? 
 
 Men generally accepted as " correct " the re 
 port of the new " combine " between Boss Mc- 
 Bride and " Uncle Simeon," and regarded the 
 nomination of W. H. D. Corlis, the political 
 " angel " of the former, and the son-in-law of the 
 latter, as confirming the same. Therefore, it was 
 inferred, the Senator s entire strength would be 
 
 179
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 given to Corlis. What was the Senator s strength? 
 That constituted the unknown factor. 
 
 Governor Ransom, who had his enemies, also 
 had his friends in all parts and in unsuspected 
 quarters. Outside Egypt the number of those who 
 loved him well exceeded the number of those who 
 would accept the gospel of Free Silver at his hands 
 to what extent? In other words, what propor 
 tion of his enormous personal following would 
 support him now? Such was the "figuring" by 
 shrewd forecasters. 
 
 Sharing in the general restlessness of this inter 
 val, Mrs. Corlis left her seat to Uncle Johnny s 
 care, stepped oft" the platform to the newspaper 
 plateau, and made her way to a desk occupied by 
 Chris Ruggles. The reporter she found tapping 
 his pencil nervously upon the desk and looking off 
 across the shifting groups, quite oblivious of her 
 near approach. 
 
 Her shadow fell upon him, and recognizing 
 her, he got upon his feet. A warm wave of min 
 gled pleasure and embarrassment suffused his hon 
 est face. 
 
 " Chris," she said directly, aware of what little 
 time the reporter at this moment might have to 
 spare, "which is Governor Ransom? I have not 
 seen him for over fifteen years, and I want to rec 
 ognize him." 
 
 Ruggles sought to point him out. 
 1 80
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " I don t see him just this moment, Mrs. Cor- 
 lis. You can t mistake him, though. He s a tall 
 man, slim as a pole, with a small head, thin, 
 high features, and what I ve heard politicians 
 style the eyes of old Nick himself. Sometimes he 
 has the manners of a Kentucky colonel and at 
 others those of a steamboat roustabout." 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 You are vivid in description, Chris. But I m 
 taking your attention and you need it at this 
 time." 
 
 " No," he replied, " I haven t a thing to do 
 until the ballot is announced." The while his 
 glance continued to search for the Governor among 
 the confused mass on the floor. 
 
 " I have heard his oaths are famous," Mrs. 
 Corlis talked on. " He used to come to the house 
 when I was a girl at home. I remember he always 
 made me think of a walking-stick, stuck on with 
 a head you know what 1 mean and he had 
 grand manners then, at least when ladies were 
 about. But he chewed tobacco." She came to a 
 dead stop, as if the last fact had occasioned some 
 conclusion in her mind, as it might have in her 
 life. 
 
 But Chris did not seem to have noticed; so 
 presently she added, 
 
 " My father used to say he had the best politi- 
 181
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 cal brains in the state, and he was barely thirty 
 then." 
 
 " He has them still, I guess," rejoined Rug- 
 gles, " though he is a rather low order of poli 
 tician, I suppose. But there he is now see him? 
 He s standing up he s six feet and over you 
 can t miss him, he looks so unlike other men. But 
 the voting has begun." 
 
 " Good-by and thank you, Chris. When you 
 have time, come over to me, please; I want Mr. 
 Jarrett, my uncle, to know you." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis, as she turned to retrace her steps 
 to her seat, noticed a tall young woman, who had 
 just come up, staring at her. Somehow, too, she 
 felt the tall young woman s eyes in her back, as 
 she walked away. When she had gotten as far 
 as the platform, curiosity caused her to look back. 
 The young woman was bending over the reporter, 
 imperiousness in her mien, it appeared to Mrs. 
 Corlis. She surmised, " She must be the guardian 
 angel Walter mentioned." 
 
 Throughout the balloting, Mrs. Corlis, sitting 
 by J. J. J. s side, strangely ignored the excitement 
 as to the outcome, to wonder concerning the young 
 woman. Used to distinguish types as she was, 
 she was impressed; she fancied she had hardly 
 seen anywhere a more striking-looking creature. 
 Naturally, extreme height alone rendered Rug- 
 gles friend conspicuous; but, Mrs. Corlis de- 
 
 182
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 cided, her long lines of limb and body possessed 
 original grace, while the pale gold hair and the 
 large, clear-cut features were after the manner 
 of some fighting young man-saint. Mrs. Corlis 
 was reaching for a succinct comparison. What 
 most interested her, however, was the jealousy 
 candidly confessed by the keen gray eyes, and the 
 general disapproval the scornfully noble face had 
 shown. 
 
 " So that s her," Card Brown said to Ruggles. 
 " And you think she is just all right, don t you? " 
 
 " I do admire her," replied the reporter sturd 
 ily, but without looking up from his desk. 
 
 Card flushed, then laughed a note or two. 
 
 " Your aristocrat I suppose you d let her walk 
 on you. Condescending notice from a queen is 
 what flatters all you men." 
 
 Ruggles bent lower over his paper. 
 
 " Don t talk absurdly, Card," he muttered in 
 displeasure. He began to compute the votes for 
 Permanent Chairman as they were announced. 
 
 On the roll-call Cook County near the top cast 
 practically a solid vote for Corlis, all but a minor 
 ity of the " better element " finding themselves 
 able to support the very respectable candidate of 
 the Machine. The middle counties, especially 
 those of the northern tier, exhibited a decided 
 preference for the Chicago man, but the southern 
 counties lined up solidly for the Governor, while 
 
 183
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 unexpected votes were recorded for the latter from 
 counties supposed to be " rock-ribbed and copper- 
 bottomed " in the interest of the Senator. 
 
 The ballot had not been completed, however, 
 before it became certain that Corlis was the Con 
 vention s choice, although by no very superfluous 
 margin. When finally announced, the ballot 
 stood : 
 
 For W. H. D. Corlis 577 votes 
 
 For Randolph Ransom 493 votes 
 
 Scattering 117 votes 
 
 The victory was soberly applauded, both by 
 McBride s men and by stalwart conservatives, 
 whose alliance had secured it. The defeat in 
 flicted upon Ransom was not sufficiently substan 
 tial to render certain the outcome either in the 
 matter of platform or of the ticket. For Corlis 
 had not received an actual majority of the vote of 
 the Convention. If Chicago had thrown her full 
 strength to him, Egypt had about balanced the 
 preponderance by plumping for Ransom, while 
 the division in the remainder of the state showed 
 that Senator Dawes had hardly held his own; that 
 the constituencies, which once had been his prop 
 erty without reservation, were affected in a meas 
 ure by the Governor s attraction. 
 
 Either such was the case or the game was more 
 intricate than appeared upon the surface. To be 
 sure, it was just possible the hundred odd votes 
 
 184
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 counted as " scattering," had been fired as blank 
 cartridges, so to speak, on order. Possibly the 
 " combination " did not desire thus early to indi 
 cate the full strength they could muster. These 
 were but speculations on the part of some very 
 shrewd observers. 
 
 Shadows reached forth from the corners of the 
 hall, and dimness already hung under the high 
 arch of the lofty ceiling. Sunset flung a red blotch 
 of color on the platform, staining with its glow 
 the main actors on that stage. 
 
 W. H. D. Corlis bowed with a prolonged grace 
 to the assembly, when Senator Dawes had intro 
 duced him as the Permanent Chairman of the 
 Convention. His speech was brief and read from 
 manuscript itself evidence of how long prepared 
 had been the plan of the " combine." His deep 
 voice, however, possessed no compass he could 
 not be heard twenty feet away, and he did well to 
 " cut it short." 
 
 Nevertheless, he created a most favorable im 
 pression. Somehow from the moment he assumed 
 the gavel, matters ran smoothly. His dignity was 
 felt, also his affability. He was smilingly firm, 
 yet he tactfully let the Convention see that he felt 
 himself their servant and that his consideration 
 could be invoked by every man and faction. A 
 convention is like a horse. It responds to the 
 rider who is both gentle and firm-seated. 
 
 185
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Mrs. Corlis, watching, thrilled with pride. Her 
 husband s easy domination was a thing of so much 
 fascination shall it be said, of so much beauty. 
 After all, she thought, echoing his opinion, the 
 democracy recognizes readily in the true aristo 
 crat, when he is presented them, their natural 
 leader. 
 
 Card Brown, in another quarter, likewise seemed 
 fascinated by that figure, the protagonist for the 
 time. Her eyes repeatedly, despite her will, were 
 drawn back to him, and two deep lines cleft her 
 brows. The while her nostrils played at each 
 short intaking and expulsion of her breath the 
 play that denoted hate or fear. 
 
 Ruggles, observing her at intervals and half- 
 displeased still, said sarcastically, 
 
 " You seem to like an aristocrat some yourself, 
 Card. No doubt Mr. Corlis, to women, looks 
 very attractive, doesn t he? " 
 
 She shuddered, just perceptibly, and it cost her 
 some slight effort, seemingly, to detach her gaze 
 from Corlis. 
 
 " Is evil possibly beautiful? " she asked, as in a 
 daze. 
 
 " Evil doers seem to find it so," moralistic 
 Chris responded quite at random. 
 
 Card s cheeks blanched to ashes; but her ob 
 tuse companion was leaning forward to catch the 
 developments of the Convention. 
 
 1 86
 
 XX 
 
 ABDICATION 
 
 AFTER making up the Committee on Cre 
 dentials and the Committee on Resolutions, 
 the Convention forthwith adjourned, to 
 meet at ten o clock the next morning. The Com 
 mittee on Resolutions was expected to construct the 
 platform overnight and report back to the Con 
 vention next day. The platform would enunciate 
 the principles upon which the party would go be 
 fore the people of the state. 
 
 That night, after eleven o clock, in the inside 
 room of the headquarters of Senator Dawes, a con 
 ference was being held. The fact was secret, and 
 to keep it so, Boss McBride had gone upstairs by 
 the kitchen stairs of the hotel, and slipped through 
 the corridors at a moment when they were re 
 ported clear of both newspaper men and poli 
 ticians. Besides McBride, were present the Sen 
 ator himself, and his son-in-law. 
 
 Each of the three was posed in a characteristic 
 attitude. Senator Dawes was seated in a chair 
 before the table, upon which rested his elbow, his 
 head half turned to listen to the others. He 
 looked studious, nervous, sad, half philosopher, 
 
 187
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 less than half politician. Mr. Corlis stood, his 
 broad back propped against the mantel-piece, a 
 cigar between the first and second fingers of his 
 left hand. He seemed cool, amused, as at a play; 
 he was faultlessly groomed. The Boss, who had 
 come in upon these two, contrasted widely with 
 both the thinker and the man of the world. He 
 was puffing somewhat from his climb, and his 
 black mane was tossed leoninely; the great jaw 
 protruded like the punishing pugilist s of the prize 
 ring. It seemed, indeed, as if the specious cun 
 ning and coarse adroitness of the man had for the 
 moment retired, and as if in their place had ad 
 vanced rough will and the resolve to force matters 
 to his liking. 
 
 " Humph, Senator," he declared, " that Ran 
 som s got us where the hair s short he knows it. 
 He knows we know it, too, and he ain t agoin to 
 let go." 
 
 Senator Dawes looked the inquiry he was too 
 weary to frame. 
 
 " What s up? " asked Mr. Corlis tersely. 
 
 " The platform committee has just quit. Them 
 fellers from Egypt acted up like mules, Brady 
 says. He just come out, and he ought to know." 
 
 "What is their kick?" asked Mr. Corlis with 
 sly malice. " Won t they indorse the Senator for 
 reelection? " 
 
 Hearing, the mouth of the old statesman 
 188
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 opened drily and shut again. What could he re 
 tort? 
 
 " Worse n that," rumbled McBride. " Ran 
 som and them Egyptians of his are hell bent for 
 a Silver plank. They won t take nothin short 
 they ain t modest, not a bit." 
 
 " Well, that was to be expected," commented 
 Mr. Corlis undisturbed. " Don t dispute with 
 them just quietly vote them down, as we did 
 this afternoon in the Convention." 
 
 The Boss looked scornful. He eyed Corlis as 
 a " professional " will a tyro. 
 
 They haven t the majority?" the latter re 
 taliated. 
 
 " Nope," snapped the Boss, " but they ve got 
 the resolve and that s a damn sight worse to buck. 
 Ransom, he means bizness, that s what I m tellin 
 you. He come down flat-footed, damned Brady 
 across the table, and says recognition of Silver has 
 got to go into the platform or he and his friends 
 11 walk out the Convention." 
 
 The Senator got upon his feet and began pacing 
 the room to suppress his agitation. 
 
 Mr. Corlis took his time; he cut a new cigar, 
 struck a match, and drew slow puffs of smoke. 
 McBride looked from one man to the other and 
 his heavy face grew more lowering still. 
 
 " Well," Mr. Corlis spoke at last, " does he 
 mean it? " 
 
 189
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 "Mean it!" echoed the Boss wrath fully. 
 " Can I make it plainer? He knows he s got the 
 drop on us, and Ransom ain t the feller to do the 
 sentimental. There never was no let up in him." 
 
 Mr. Corlis swung on his heel away from Me- 
 Bride. 
 
 " Is money any object with the Governor? " he 
 asked casually. 
 
 They say so, yes used to be in Springfield," 
 the Boss replied. " But it ain t no good now. 
 Ransom s got his back up, and the crowd that s 
 with him are a lot of fanatic yaps. He s put us 
 in a hole, that s what." McBride looked doleful. 
 
 Mr. Corlis took a turn down the room, and, 
 coming back, faced the Boss. 
 
 " Then it means we must throw the dog a bone. 
 Anyhow a platform is only so much paper." 
 
 Senator Dawes halted in his walk, but he 
 spoke as if to the wall, 
 
 " A platform is a declaration of principles." 
 
 McBride s face had cleared suddenly. 
 
 " I ll tell Brady to go ahead and let them yaps 
 write Silver in big capitals to-morrow mornin , if 
 they want to." 
 
 " They will defeat us next fall, if we don t, 
 that s positive," observed Mr. Corlis with deliber 
 ation. " It cannot matter materially if the plat 
 form does screech bimetalism, provided we elect a 
 
 190
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 gold governor and the legislature chooses a gold 
 senator." 
 
 He smiled, as if the difficulty were quite dis 
 posed of. 
 
 The party must be held together, or we can t 
 do business," muttered McBride. u And sayin a 
 thing ain t always meanin it, the saints be praised." 
 
 He winked jovially at his colleague. 
 
 " Well, what do you say, Senator? " asked Mr. 
 Corlis, finally. 
 
 The hands of the Senator, folded underneath 
 his black coat-tails, writhed in one another and dis 
 turbed the tails. He looked like some possible 
 species of venerable goat caught in the pangs of 
 indigestion. He did not cease to walk. 
 
 " Don t ask me," he feebly answered, " I don t 
 know. This Silver craze is a most damnable here 
 sy. But you, not I, are running this Convention 
 you re responsible. You know how the peepul 
 feel; I ve been in Washington too much of the 
 time myself." 
 
 Suddenly he felt himself overcome with weak 
 ness, and he dropped into a chair. He wanted to 
 go to bed. The hum of the Convention, the con 
 tention of tongues, still sounded in his ears, and 
 he was tired too with old age. 
 
 Corlis seized the situation. 
 
 " I think we ll leave, McBride. The Senator 
 is worn out and he ought to be asleep. Senator, 
 
 ^
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 McBride and I will fix it up, and you can send us 
 word in the morning, if you wish to let us know 
 your decision." 
 
 The Boss had caught the signal in his colleague s 
 eyes, and he acquiesced without a word. Senator 
 Dawes was thankful to have them go. 
 
 " All right, Walter," he said. " You had better 
 sleep on it and so had I. That s wisest always, 
 when one can." 
 
 Left alone, the old man lay back in his chair 
 and the thoughts coursed through his mind like 
 alternating currents. They were harrowing 
 thoughts that harassed his nerves. The lines of 
 care and craft grew deeper about his eyes and 
 mouth. 
 
 Despite his worldly experience, the Senator re 
 tained much of the theological mode of thinking 
 in which he had been nurtured. Thus, what he 
 styled his temptation, he realized was now upon 
 him. He was unable to escape this conviction, for 
 all the power of sophistry in which he was so 
 greatly exercised by a lifetime of political dissimu 
 lation and special pleading. 
 
 It was his temptation, because it threatened the 
 bed-rock principles of his political philosophy and 
 faith the principles upon which his career was 
 based; those he had preached to two generations 
 of Americans; those he believed had been sancti 
 fied by the Revolutionary fathers. 
 
 192
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 He understood human nature, and he was 
 neither an idealist nor a doctrinaire. He knew 
 how to shift and change; how to use men and to 
 abandon them; how to shape opinion, and to twist 
 prejudice and wrong-headedness to the advance 
 ment of good government and sound policy. The 
 arts of the demagogue were much at his command 
 as well as the practice of management; he was an 
 old hand at the distribution of offices and an adept 
 as a maker of promises that time by itself must 
 nullify. 
 
 Nevertheless, Senator Dawes was not a dema 
 gogue. Means he might be tolerant concerning; 
 about ends he had remained inflexible. Funda 
 mentally, the man was patriotic, a thinker and a 
 searcher after truth. His youth had been fash 
 ioned in the fires of the great patriotic outburst 
 which saved the Union, and the spirit of that time 
 still survived in him. He was a lover of the peo 
 ple still and a republican who fervently believed 
 in the efficacy of his country s institutions and their 
 mission of liberty in the world. 
 
 He likewise was an office-holder. The Senate 
 was his life. He believed he rendered the Re 
 public service there; but he loved the chamber 
 for itself, loved the work, the associations, the 
 great traditions, the final power of the American 
 House of Lords. He wished to die in harness, 
 to be to the end a Senator of the United States. 
 
 193
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 For with what could he fill his life, were he to 
 fail of a return for the sixth time? The vacuity 
 that threatened, tormented him incessantly, allowed 
 not his mind the consideration of his principles, 
 intruded when he endeavored to realize the enor 
 mity of Silver and of what he was convinced 
 must work evil to the nation. He found no con 
 solation in the phrase "honorable retirement:" 
 it, to him, but signified poignant desolation. He 
 knew the world, how men treated a man whose 
 success was ended, a man relegated to the " scrap- 
 heap." He had sympathy for old Prince Bis 
 marck, growling in the woods alone, after the 
 Kaiser had turned him off. 
 
 The Senator went to bed. He could postpone 
 until morning the intolerable review of pro and 
 con; sleep might suggest the solution. His head 
 once on the pillow, the brain raced more swiftly 
 than before. He was like a man about to drown, 
 to whom, in a flash, his whole life appears. Even 
 in the darkness he felt he could perceive the bare 
 walls of the hotel room and each ugly piece of 
 furniture, while the grinding rumble of Chicago s 
 streets sounded as Niagara to his ears. 
 
 Perhaps no man living was competent to instruct 
 Senator Dawes in the political conditions of the 
 Republic. He had been a life-long student of her 
 institutions and had learned what her people were; 
 had kept year after year in touch with them, knew 
 
 194
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 their heart and mind and temper. Also he knew 
 the changes that had been wrought in them and 
 all that such implied. This vast and intricate 
 knowledge mastered him; he was its victim. 
 Now, as he lay outstretched, vainly seeking the 
 light sleep of old age, this knowledge forced itself 
 upon him, did not permit him to delude himself. 
 
 Had it been as in the old days, when, as he 
 remembered, government was carried on by dis 
 cussion, he could have braved the issue, stuck 
 to righteous words and gone upon the stump and 
 fought his enemies before the people s eyes. His 
 weapons then had been those of logic, supple 
 mented by appeals to the people s conscience. He 
 had required, then, neither lies nor dissimulations, 
 nor money, nor machines. Right reason and 
 righteous motives, they had sufficed alone to shake 
 the old State of Illinois to its center. 
 
 But now! Where were those freemen God 
 fearing, practical, and cool reasoning men who 
 asked for themselves but honest toil and civic 
 liberty, and demanded only of the government 
 they set up, seemly order and decent justice? He 
 knew that old constituency had perished, or was 
 submerged. There were classes, races, divisions 
 now. There were great blocks of voters who 
 would flout at argument; others, whose prejudices 
 must be studied; some, who asked for money or 
 
 195
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 for " jobs; " others, still, who only through a dis 
 ciplined organization could be reached. 
 
 A vision of Chicago rose in his mind Chicago, 
 the new fact in Illinois, the metropolitan city, the 
 congeries of diverse aliens Chicago, vast, turbu 
 lent, ugly, unclean, but with what force, what life, 
 what passion, the heart of all the West, the young 
 giantess who forestalled the future, who gathered 
 in herself the converging lines of the continent, as 
 a belly holds the reins. 
 
 Chicago dominated him. Her he did not un 
 derstand, nor on what terms to deal with her. 
 Her barbarian standards staggered him and re 
 duced the sure wisdom that he had to foolishness. 
 In her presence he grew conscious of what a fool 
 he was to introduce into the problem principles of 
 honor and of conduct appropriate only to condi 
 tions now obsolete. He might go upon the stump 
 this summer and reason as Douglas reasoned, as 
 Lincoln reasoned. Forsooth, would Chicago and 
 the new spirit hearken? 
 
 Nay, were he himself not a man of the past, 
 not himself hopelessly obsolete, he must march 
 abreast of the times and forbear disparagement. 
 The men of the day were such men as his son-in- 
 law and the Irish Boss. He must conform, agree 
 with their views, adopt their methods, follow 
 them. 
 
 Ay, follow! The verb revealed the truth he 
 196
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 had lost his leadership; the younger men were 
 chiefs. 
 
 Leader and chief, the contrasted words included 
 all the change. Leaders of opinion were passing 
 out of fashion; chiefs of organization and man 
 agers of campaigns had superseded them. 
 
 Possessed of this bitter conviction, the Senator 
 finally fell asleep. It was then close to dawn, 
 and the old man did not consciously awaken until 
 nearly nine o clock. His first thought was of the 
 committee and of the necessity for doing some 
 thing quickly. But, as he drew his garments over 
 his chilly limbs, resolution ebbed from him. 
 
 What for? his vague mind asked. Why at 
 tempt to influence, where influence was defunct? 
 Once he had guided the current, now the current 
 directed him. Let it. He was no Don Quixote 
 to insist upon riding an impossible tournament. 
 The committee was not his business; the platform 
 they would lay down was for Illinois, it would 
 possess no meaning at Washington. His own 
 principles were known, nor could they be amended 
 by what a State Convention might resolve. If 
 Corlis and McBride felt the need of a Silver 
 plank in order to elect their man governor, he was 
 not concerned. He was interested only in remain 
 ing Senator at Washington, where after election 
 he would stand and vote as he had in the past, 
 
 197
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 according to what he believed to be sound states 
 manship. 
 
 Senator Dawes, yielding to indisposition, re 
 mained in his room the entire morning, talking 
 with the few who called to see him. The hour 
 for the reassembling of the Convention had long 
 passed, yet no messenger from Corlis or McBride 
 had appeared to learn what Senator Dawes had 
 concluded, overnight, about the platform. 
 
 In fact, the Senator did not reach the Conven 
 tion hall until after two o clock in the afternoon. 
 
 The platform had been reported at the morning 
 session, and no one, in the absence of Senator 
 Dawes, had been found to protest against the 
 Silver plank, or to advocate the substitution of a 
 sound money declaration. 
 
 The platform, as reported by the committee, 
 had been adopted without discussion; Governor 
 Ransom had read it through with smooth per- 
 functoriness, and Chairman Corlis, with a stroke 
 of his gavel, had declared it " moved and seconded 
 and adopted." Smiling and adroit he had put the 
 question and settled the whole matter before any 
 delegate had a chance to say so much as Jack 
 Robinson. A few strenuous " silk-stocking re 
 formers " yelled protests, when it was too late, 
 but Mr. Corlis could not see their signals nor hear 
 their vociferations. Presently the Convention 
 howled, in unanimity, " Sit down, sit down ! " 
 
 198
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Moral principle, like a farthing candle, was snuffed 
 out. 
 
 The Senator demurely sought his seat in the 
 big leather chair reserved for him at the right of 
 the Chairman, a little back. A note soon came to 
 him from his daughter, a note of congratulations 
 upon the resolution, embodied in the platform, 
 declaring him the party s choice for election to the 
 United States Senate by the next legislature. 
 
 199
 
 H 
 
 XXI 
 
 THE GOVERNOR 
 
 E is the man, the best of them I ve seen 
 here," observed J. J. J. to his niece. 
 
 Governor Ransom was presenting the 
 platform to the Convention. 
 
 You said, didn t you, Vicky," the magnate 
 resumed some five minutes later, " that you used 
 to know him years ago? " 
 
 Very well indeed," said Mrs. Corlis in con 
 firmation. " I knew him from the time I was 
 twelve years old until I was married. You must 
 have heard about him from us a great many times, 
 if you remember, Uncle Johnny. He was ten 
 years older than I and the first grown-up friend 
 I ever had. But I have not seen him for years 
 now." 
 
 ; I should say," concluded the money-master, 
 as he removed his eyes from the figure of the 
 Governor, " I should say your old friend, Vicky, 
 was a born leader of men he is, or I miss my 
 guess. Couldn t well help being it, if he tried. 
 I wonder what he means by wasting such abili 
 ties." 
 
 You mean his championship of Silver? " in- 
 200
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 quired Mrs. Corlis. "It is strange. But Chris 
 Ruggles, the Pundit reporter I introduced to you 
 yesterday, has been down to Egypt within the last 
 three months for his paper, and he says the senti 
 ment down there is simply indescribably strong. 
 In his opinion, if Governor Ransom wished to re 
 tain any part of his ascendency in southern Illinois, 
 he had no choice but to go with the tide." 
 
 J. J. J. nodded. 
 
 " Mebbe so, mebbe so," he muttered. 
 
 Presently : 
 
 " A peculiar man, Vicky, I can see that. Now, 
 I can see in your friend most of the qualifications 
 for real leadership; he has will and courage in 
 abundant measure, also imagination and sufficient 
 flexibility. Then, they say, he is an orator and 
 the cutest practical politician in the state. Why 
 does he want to spoil his chances by attaching 
 himself to a lost cause; for that s what Silver will 
 amount to, and no more." 
 
 " Perhaps, Uncle Johnny, Governor Ransom 
 would not agree with you that Silver is a lost 
 cause," suggested Mrs. Corlis, suddenly unwilling 
 to concede the certainty as against her former 
 friend. 
 
 " But it can t be anything else." J. J. J. was 
 positive. " Retrogressive movements, reactions, 
 however violent for the time, are doomed always 
 to end in one way. The ultimate defeat of this 
 
 20 1
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Silver lunacy is just as certain as that to-morrow s 
 sun will rise." 
 
 Again she was surprised by her own irritation. 
 She resented it that her uncle should dismiss so 
 high-handedly the possibility of success for what 
 the Governor represented. 
 
 " He may not think so, Uncle Johnny," she 
 said, combatively. " Chris, who has been investi 
 gating, believes the movement will shake the 
 country to the center; he contends that the dele 
 gates from Egypt, whom Mr. McBride s hench 
 men call " hayseed farmer yaps," are a new set 
 in politics. They have turned out the old political 
 fgang, who were in politics for the spoils, and they 
 ihead a new democratic movement which will re- 
 deem politics and will renew the old-time Ameri 
 can life." 
 
 -. "Humph!" ejaculated J. J. J. Yet it was 
 neither a contemptuous nor a disbelieving humph; 
 it simply registered the fact that he was impressed, 
 that he recognized he had encountered a new 
 .force, which, perhaps, would require attention. 
 
 For J. J. J. did not deal with theories or form 
 any dogmatic conceptions of how things, from the 
 point of view of a capitalist, ought to be: he 
 considered forces and respected all of them; he 
 estimated the strength of each and did not waste 
 his time condemning or approving any. His mind, 
 in short, possessed the impersonality of greatness. 
 
 202
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 How different from his was the attitude of his 
 niece. She throbbed with enthusiasms and thrilled 
 with sympathies; she even had difficulty, as she 
 recognized herself, to prevent her prejudice from 
 running away with her judgment. Chris Ruggles 
 yesterday, to show her of what stuff the new men 
 from Egypt were made, had escorted her to the 
 far side of the hall, where from an advantageous 
 gallery he had bidden her look down and study 
 the revolutionists. 
 
 She recalled now what they had seemed to her; 
 moreover, the original impression had been 
 deepened by the reflections of a restless night. 
 Those men were not politicians, at least of any 
 of the breeds with which she was acquainted; they 
 were obviously neither place-hunters nor money- 
 seekers. In political parlance, and Mrs. Corlis 
 did not shrink from employment of the term, 
 they were not " trough-feeders." They were not 
 even men of craft, who played the game for the 
 excitement s sake and relished human nature in 
 the red, raw state. They were none of these. 
 
 They were dreamers, rather, good hearts, simple 
 folk, who on their farms had felt the rapture of 
 a new humanitarian cause, and had hungered and 
 thirsted after righteousness in government and 
 law, as their Cromwellian and Methodistic fore 
 bears had yearned and suffered in the cause of the 
 new ideals of their several days. 
 
 203
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Yesterday, looking down at them, the involun 
 tary tears had started in her eyes. One half of 
 her nature or inheritance, the Puritan, the moral, 
 understood those men and sympathized with their 
 dreams. She had said to herself it was spontane 
 ous of such as these had Lincoln come, and, as 
 they were, such had been her father in his youth. 
 Between them the comparison in her own mind 
 was instant and the captains of industry in Chi 
 cago whom she knew, what a gulf yawned. Was 
 it Progress, could it be called such, she questioned, 
 which maintained and was widening that gulf? 
 
 Who were nobler, those men of riches in the 
 cities with their loose morals, their cynical con 
 tempts, their conception of the world as an ex 
 change to make profits in and as a mart to buy 
 sensual luxuries in, or those country lawyers and 
 unpolished yeomen, morally austere, who cherished 
 in this corrupt day the ethical ideals of the high 
 Anglo-Saxon race, and who were animated now by 
 a vision of Justice enthroned and human brother 
 hood become an institution? Mrs. Corlis poign 
 antly suspected in her soul that the dream of these 
 men might be the authentic modern version of the 
 ideal of Saint Augustine s Civitas Dei, the City of 
 God. 
 
 Under this impulsion she renewed her opposi 
 tion to her uncle. 
 
 " May it not prove, Uncle Johnny, that the in- 
 204
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 tensity of the movement may spread it throughout 
 the nation and that by it the old parties will be 
 submerged or reformed? Is it not just that prob 
 ability which Governor Ransom perceives? He 
 fancies that if now he embarks upon the wave, it 
 may lift him aloft into national power and reputa 
 tion." 
 
 " But, Vicky, all the movement has behind it is 
 enthusiasm and belief." 
 
 J. J. J. was kind to her feminine credulity, but 
 he felt it better not to mince matters. 
 
 " Napoleon said, remember, God is on the side 
 of the heavy battalions, and that s safe to bank 
 on. Besides, Vicky, this Governor of yours ain t 
 one bit fooled he ain t that kind. To get down 
 to brass tacks, I guess pure cussedness made him 
 pick the forlorn hope; it s what suits his nerves." 
 
 The probability, if not the truth, of this sur 
 mise, silenced Mrs. Corlis. Yet her secret mind 
 protested against what she felt were the capital 
 istic assumptions of her uncle s point of view. 
 
 Both were presently engaged in watching the 
 Convention, Mrs. Corlis with the appearance of 
 alertness yet with eyes that dreamed, J.. J. J. with 
 the aspect of a drowsy mystic, but beholding men 
 and things exactly as they were. 
 
 Mr. Jarrett s speculation concerning the Gov 
 ernor s determining motive, goes far to explain 
 
 205
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Randolph Ransom and the notorious contradic 
 tions of his career. 
 
 He was now concluding his second term as Gov 
 ernor of Illinois, and as executive of the state had 
 enjoyed nearly eight years of sway. He had al 
 ways been " in politics " from his earliest man 
 hood, and he was now turning his fiftieth year. 
 Politics, in truth, was more than his pursuit; he 
 had made it a profession, studying it prodigiously 
 as other men may study engineering. And he 
 had mastered the practice of politics, as a naval 
 captain does his ship or a gambler his cards. 
 
 Ransom had begun life ostensibly as a country 
 lawyer, but had scarcely commenced before he 
 had abandoned even the pretense of keeping a law 
 office. First he had been chosen sheriff of his 
 county, then state senator for many terms, then 
 lieutenant-governor, finally governor, and gover 
 nor a second time. Originally a protege of Senator 
 Dawes, afterwards his confidential man, he be 
 came the latter s lieutenant and manager. Those 
 who knew affirmed that " Uncle Simeon" owed 
 one of his reelections to the Senate, probably two, 
 entirely to the friendship of Randolph Ransom. 
 
 The man somehow, from the outset, won the 
 bitter antagonism of " the better element," the 
 ultra-respectability of his party. His name be 
 came a by-word on the lips and his success a stench 
 in the nostrils of the " silk-stocking " faction in 
 
 206
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Chicago. " Reformers " anathematized him; Chi 
 cago newspapers villified him; he was the builder 
 of the most powerful state machine ever con 
 structed in Illinois, and he had a hearty loathing 
 for " literary fellers " and " civil-service cranks/ 
 Early and always he was distinguished as a hard 
 hater and a hard hitter, too; he never compro 
 mised or ceased hammering an enemy s head. In 
 fine, he was a man who enjoyed a superfluity of 
 friends and foes, since all men were one or the 
 other. 
 
 How his true friends loved Randolph Ransom ! 
 How his followers " stuck," through thick and 
 thin, sun and shine, tempest or earthquake ! The 
 whole of Egypt worshiped him and he furthered 
 Egypt s interests, fought for Egypt s prejudices, 
 got offices for Egypt s leaders. The men of Egypt 
 were his feudatories and he their Henry of Na 
 varre, their captain of a hundred fights. He was 
 not better than were they; he could out-swear 
 them, out-drink them, beat them at poker, and 
 out-argue the longest-winded farmer that sat on 
 a barrel anywhere between the three rivers. Nor 
 did his following stop at Egypt; the man won de 
 voted friends wherever he was known. Indeed, 
 it was estimated that Ransom s personal strength 
 in Illinois was what Stephen A. Douglas had been 
 or John A. Logan s. 
 
 Yet this practical politician, this tobacco-squirt- 
 
 14
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ing demagogue, this rough-and-tumble darling of 
 the masses, was a gentleman born, in the strictest 
 Southern sense. He came of blue-grass Kentucky 
 stock. His father had been a " colonel " before 
 the war, and his mother was a gentlewoman. The 
 marks of lineage were unmistakable in his face; 
 his traditions were inevitably reflected in his man 
 ner, though he would fain have escaped them ut 
 terly, though he had lived like a " rounder " and 
 a Democrat of Democrats religiously the most of 
 his days. 
 
 He was notoriously indifferent to women. His 
 intimates averred that he had never uttered a word 
 in dispraise of the sex or a word in their praise, 
 either. Women seemed not to be in his thoughts; 
 he displayed no active aversion to them, but that 
 they had been banished from his mind was mani 
 fest. 
 
 The attitude of the Governor during the past 
 winter had not been wholly understood. He had 
 let his friends know he would not accept the nom 
 ination for a third term as governor, even if he 
 could get it. Moreover, he had announced that 
 he would not contest the United States Senatorship 
 with Simeon E. Dawes. He did declare, not 
 withstanding, that his views on public matters 
 had so widely departed from those professed by 
 Senator Dawes, that he found himself unable 
 actively to support the latter for reelection. But, 
 
 208
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 on the other hand, he stated positively that he 
 could not think of opposing so old and so intimate 
 a friend, one, too, who deserved so well of Illinois. 
 
 Governor Ransom s partiality for Silver and 
 Bimetallism had been evinced at least as far back 
 as two years ago. In truth, never at any time 
 in his career could he have been counted as reliably 
 a Sound Money man. Consequently, when the 
 storm burst in southern Illinois, it was to be ex 
 pected the Governor would not constitute himself 
 an emergency lightning rod to draw its ire for 
 the benefit of others threatened by the vengeance. 
 He had waited on developments, and at the proper 
 moment had stepped in front of the movement 
 and assumed the baton of leadership. 
 
 His accession was acclaimed, since there was 
 need of leadership. He supplied edge to the 
 movement s sword, point to its arrow; his adroit 
 ness oiled the crude machinery of fanaticism. 
 
 In the session of the committee which con 
 structed the platform, adopted subsequently by the 
 Convention, Governor Ransom displayed no least 
 rancor against Senator Dawes. He declared that 
 he stood for a principle and entertained no ani 
 mosity against persons; that he was, as always, 
 a Republican, but that he was interested to pre 
 serve the Republican party as the party of the 
 people. 
 
 He did not want the earth, he said, his dearest 
 209
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 desire being to persuade everybody " to get to 
 gether." Accordingly, and in promotion of party 
 harmony, he was prepared to barter a senatorship 
 for a platform-plank. 
 
 You want Uncle Simeon endorsed ; I want 
 Bimetallism approved; that s easy." Such was 
 his refrain. 
 
 Finally, under the pressure of a threat to 
 " bolt," he wrought the committee to his will. His 
 plan " to promote harmony " was accepted by the 
 Convention; Senator Dawes was declared the 
 party s choice for Senator and recommended to 
 the next legislature, Bimetallism was commended 
 and Free Silver declared an article of the Re 
 publican creed. 
 
 Thus Governor Ransom had apparently suc 
 ceeded in his purpose of committing the party in 
 Illinois to Silver. Apparently he had won his 
 battle. He was observed to smile with satisfac 
 tion, as he read the resolution endorsing Senator 
 Dawes. 
 
 210
 
 XXII 
 
 THE DAWES-MCBRIDE-CORLIS COMBINATION 
 
 THE report of the Committee on Resolutions 
 having been adopted as the platform by the 
 Convention, the business next in order was 
 the selection of candidates to constitute the party 
 ticket. 
 
 It was half past four o clock when Chairman 
 Corlis declared nominations for governor to be 
 in order, and directed that the roll of counties be 
 called, in order that each county might have op 
 portunity to present a name, should it so choose 
 to exercise its privilege. 
 
 No intimation up to this time, emanating from 
 an authoritative source, indicated that the ruling 
 powers had united upon any one man for the honor 
 of the nomination; indeed, so far it was not de 
 monstrated that any u combine " whatsoever, if 
 such existed, could control an actual majority of 
 the Convention. Therefore, experienced political 
 forecasters expected that " The Big Three," if 
 there were such a trinity, would be chary about 
 exposing the full strength of their hands at first, 
 and, most likely, would proceed to test the senti 
 ment of the delegates and to disclose the divisions 
 
 211
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 of the Convention in advance, by bringing forward 
 tentative candidates. 
 
 The upshot confirmed the suspicion. When 
 Cook County was called, alphabetically among the 
 first, Alderman Thomas Patrick Casey of Chicago 
 put in nomination the name of State Senator Mc 
 Donnell McGruder, while the " Reform Rump," 
 by the voice of Arthur Hillis Collar, presented 
 the name of Judge Leonard R. Russell. Ohio 
 County from away down in Egypt nominated Cy 
 rus Haskins, and a Dawes man from Sangamon 
 named James B. Steuben of Will County. 
 
 The first ballot with the names of four gentle 
 men in nomination, resulted as follows: 
 
 McGruder of Cook County. . . .397 votes 
 
 Russell of Cook County 214 votes 
 
 Haskins of Ohio County 41 1 votes 
 
 Steuben of Will County 253 votes 
 
 Scattering 113 votes. 
 
 The total vote of the Convention, when cast, 
 was 1388. A majority of one was 695 votes. In 
 other words, to nominate would require some 700 
 votes. 
 
 A most cursory analysis of the first ballot showed 
 McBride s Machine confronted by a solid Egypt. 
 But the vote for Steuben of Will, it was remarked, 
 represented what strength Senator Dawes could 
 swing at a word, namely, about 250 votes, while 
 equally it was proved that Ransom as candidate 
 
 212
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 for chairman could draw more largely upon the 
 Dawes following than any lieutenant of his could 
 hope to do. Therefore it was safe to infer that 
 411 votes cast for Haskins of Ohio, constituted 
 the maximum of the Free Silver strength, since its 
 candidate could not expect to acquire a single vote 
 from the two hundred odd " reformers " of Cook 
 County, and since, even if all the 113 votes regis 
 tered as "scattering" could be delivered in a 
 lump, the Silver representative, notwithstanding, 
 would still fall short of attaining a majority by 
 some 175 votes. Moreover, it was probable, if 
 any one owned them, the scattering 113 were not 
 the property of the Silver leaders. 
 
 The second ballot showed no appreciable 
 change. 
 
 The third ballot stood as follows: 
 
 McGruder of Cook County 522 votes 
 
 Russell of Cook County 212 votes 
 
 Haskins of Ohio County 438 votes 
 
 Steuben of Will County 130 votes 
 
 Scattering 86 votes. 
 
 The result clearly indicated that about one half 
 of the Dawes men had " flopped " to the Chicago 
 Machine, while a few scattering votes had 
 " flocked " to Egypt. 
 
 What now impended? Was this the commence 
 ment of a " landslide " to the Cook County candi 
 date? Uneasiness permeated the Convention. 
 
 213
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 The " Reformers " of Chicago were seized 
 with a mild consternation. They had desired " to 
 administer a Waterloo " to the " Free Silver lun 
 acy; " but now they asked themselves, with trepi 
 dation, must they, in order to rebuke the deep sea 
 of repudiation, swallow the devil of a Boss and all 
 his works? Was their choice to be confined to 
 Scylla and Charybdis; must they either com 
 promise with the " corrupt Ransom " or strike 
 hands with the " notorious McBride? " Probably 
 most of the politicians of all factions were " tickled 
 to death " to behold the dilemma presented the 
 fastidious " gentlemen and reformers." 
 
 Happily the fourth ballot relieved, at least mo 
 mentarily, the apprehension of the " reformers." 
 It stood : 
 
 McGruder of Cook County . . . . 100 votes 
 
 Russell of Cook County 143 votes 
 
 Haskins of Ohio County 442 votes 
 
 Steuben of Will County 621 votes. 
 
 The galleries craned their necks and buzzed 
 with the sense of crisis. The whole Convention 
 gave vent to a mighty gasp, when the secretary 
 finished reading the result. One thing was pal 
 pable: the "combine" between the Senator and 
 the Chicago Boss had been doubly demonstrated; 
 its ascendency was proclaimed; its compulsion 
 rested on men like a perception. McBride and 
 " Uncle Simeon " swung their strength now this 
 
 214
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 way and now that, as the giants of finance take the 
 weight of their fingers off and put it on the stocks 
 again. The " combine " would name the nomi 
 nee. 
 
 A hum like that of innumerable bees filled the 
 hall it was the hoarse whispering of a thousand 
 men. Some were frantic and rushed here and 
 there, swinging arms and shouting words. 
 
 Six hundred and twenty-one votes for Steuben, 
 Dawes friend, a respectable mediocrity, honest and 
 dense ! Surely another ballot must nominate him ! 
 Already it was clear that the " Reformers " would 
 plump for him in preference to Haskins or Mc- 
 Gruder, while McBride had still in hand a reserve 
 of one hundred solid votes to throw to him, more 
 than sufficient to nominate. 
 
 The band wagon," was the phrase on nearly 
 everybody s lips. " Get into it, or you ll get left," 
 the comment. " Now or never," the alternative. 
 The Convention, like a cat, was crouching, gather 
 ing to spring. 
 
 Suddenly the electric lights thrilled into life and 
 diffused a ghastly pallor over the excited men. 
 Hysteria and that assembly offered each other 
 their embrace. 
 
 Hysteria was a word not at home in the vo 
 cabulary of McBride. What he plotted for was 
 the creation of a " stampede," a panic of enthu 
 siasm in men as uncontrollable as the panic of fear 
 
 215
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 in cattle. The shifting of the vote, to McGruder 
 first, then plus an increment to Steuben, had de 
 stroyed the poise of the Convention, had anni 
 hilated its faith in itself. McBride, to use his 
 own vernacular, " had it rattled." Delegates felt 
 themselves mere reeds, expectant of the coming 
 tempest, ready to bow north or south or east or 
 west at its behest; they perceived the handwriting 
 on the wall and waited for the scourge to come. 
 
 McBride sat in the first seat of the first row, 
 at the head of his delegation. The platform half 
 hid him underneath its front. He sat with his 
 great shoulders hunched, stupid stolidity in his 
 face, his oblivious eyes half closed. Yet he was 
 sharply wakeful in his every sense. 
 
 He, who knew so well how to coerce or to 
 persuade individual men, was possessed also of 
 the instinct for moving men en masse. He was 
 awaiting what more pedantic people would have 
 styled the psychological moment. 
 
 Arthur Hillis Collar arose in his seat far back 
 of McBride to withdraw the name of Judge Rus 
 sell, adding, 
 
 " Judge Russell s friends will be unanimously 
 for that man of the plain people, James B. Steu 
 ben, of Will County." 
 
 "The Black Boss" roused himself; he lifted 
 his head heavily from its niche in his neck. 
 
 216
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Damn him, I ll fool him! " he muttered in 
 a wrathful undertone. And he crooked a stubby 
 finger over his shoulder; then resumed his look 
 at the floor. 
 
 A great bulk rolled up to the Boss. 
 
 " Get up there, Brady, and let er go ! " 
 
 The big State Senator shouldered his way 
 through the press and mounted to the platform. 
 A moment, and his towering girth of head and 
 neck and chest appeared at the front. The dele 
 gates took note; the shrill buzz hushed. Brady 
 was the storm-bird of the Cook County Machine: 
 where his batteries of speech unlimbered, it was 
 to fire plunging shot and shrieking shell. 
 
 While Brady was acquiring the Chairman s 
 recognition, McBride had gone around to the rear 
 of the platform and so gained its level. Mrs. 
 Corlis saw him stepping across behind the screen 
 of men, at the platform s front. At her father s 
 chair he stood still, his hand upon its back. 
 
 Senator Brady opened his great throat. But 
 he made no speech; he roared a sentence: 
 
 " Mr. Chairman, and gentlemen of the Conven 
 tion, Cook County withdraws the name of Mc 
 Donnell McGruder and nominates for the head of 
 the ticket Walter H. D. Corlis of Chicago ! " 
 
 The speaker dropped from sight like a Jack 
 shut in his box. In his stead appeared to the eyes 
 of the astounded assembly what his burly form 
 
 217
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 had masked, a figure elegant and at ease, a smile, 
 half deprecatory, half humorous, on his handsome 
 face, in his hand the gavel raised to signal an en 
 treaty for order. 
 
 In a burst the delegates realized that the 
 nominee would be their Chairman. 
 
 Then fell a sound like that of cataracts released. 
 Cook County was on its feet cheering, was on its 
 chairs. The " whoops " were " let loose " in ser 
 ies, got tangled up, rose to the ceiling in a vortex 
 of clamor. The galleries howled, bringing their 
 shoes into play, so that sheets of dust went up like 
 smoke from the pounded boards. The henchmen 
 of McBride flung up fourteen dollar silk hats and 
 battered them with their fists when they came 
 tumbling down. They climbed upon one another s 
 shoulders, waving banners, standards, umbrellas, 
 handkerchiefs. They stripped their coats off and 
 waved them and their shirt-sleeved arms together. 
 
 "Stampede, stampede !"" W. H. D. Corlis, 
 Corlis ! " swelled the cry. 
 
 The pandemonium was contagious, both in its 
 enthusiasm and its farce. For, as is only possible 
 in America, the excitement was at once hysterical 
 and calculated, men going wild, yet each " keeping 
 his eye peeled." 
 
 McBride leaned over the back of the chair 
 which held Senator Dawes. 
 
 " How do you size it up, Senator? " said he. 
 218
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 The old man turned his head, a strange smile, 
 ironical yet propitiatory, curving his shaven lip. 
 
 " I guess it ll have to do," was all he said. 
 
 " Then, by God, it s now or never," swore the 
 Boss. " Suppose we ought to show ourselves, 
 oughtn t we? Your fellers need an example set 
 em, Senator." 
 
 " Uncle Simeon " got limply to his feet. Mrs. 
 Corlis read his back. 
 
 McBride pushed a path through the struggling 
 wall about the Chairman. 
 
 u Stand back, damn you, stand back! " he or 
 dered with the brusqueness of a cavalry brigadier. 
 " Senator Dawes has got to get in front." 
 
 To see the better, Mrs. Corlis, like everybody 
 else at this crucial moment, stood upon her chair. 
 
 McBride with Senator Dawes had broken 
 through. The Boss now stood upon the right hand 
 of the Chairman; the Senator stood upon his left. 
 Each put an arm out, resting a hand on a shoulder 
 of Mr. Corlis. And thus the Triumvirate con 
 fronted the Convention. 
 
 " Warm work," remarked the Chairman coolly 
 to his colleagues. 
 
 " It ll work dead easy," declared McBride. 
 
 " It s an ovation," observed the Senator. 
 
 The Convention had gone crazy. 
 
 219
 
 XXIII 
 "MAGNIFICENT, BUT NOT WAR" 
 
 THEN it was that a ludicrous incident oc 
 curred, such that the thousand delegates, 
 pulling up in their enthusiasm for a minute, 
 howled for the pure humor of the thing. 
 
 The Triumvirate had been augmented to a 
 Quartette. The three mastiffs had been joined by 
 a spaniel. The latter had wedged himself unex 
 pectedly between long " Uncle Simeon " Dawes 
 and the elegant Corlis. He was small, white- 
 haired, pink skinned, and he lifted up his hand to 
 the Chairman s broad chest; he could not reach 
 higher. But the action signified, since no voice 
 could pierce that pandemonium, that the two hun 
 dred odd votes of the " gentlemen and scholars " 
 were at Corlis disposal. 
 
 Irrepressible smiles spread over the countenances 
 of the Senator and the Boss. The delegates trans 
 lated those smiles into shrieks of laughter and 
 deafening, ironical yells and cat-calls. The Chair 
 man alone did not share the mirth; he took the re 
 former s hand and seemed to thank him. The 
 self-important creature smiled and, turning to 
 the delegates, bowed his rapturous appreciation 
 
 220
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 of their vociferous appreciation. The action 
 crowned the farce; it upset entirely the American 
 sense of humor. The Convention screamed ; they 
 slapped one another on the back and doubled up 
 in fits. 
 
 The unconscious subject and occasion of their 
 hilarity continued smiling, obviously pleased with 
 the opportunity of exhibiting his good breeding to 
 a majority who had it not. He retired finally, 
 blushing like a school-boy who has taken a prize. 
 
 He was Arthur Hillis Collar, idealist, purist, 
 gentleman, but no humorist or sympathizer with 
 human nature. He knew largely how it ought to 
 be ; insufficiently how it is. He led a movement 
 every year in Chicago against " the dominance of 
 a vulgar Boss," and every other year in the state 
 against " the methods of a corrupt Machine." 
 But he was not proof against the seductions of Re 
 spectability, and next day, in an interview, re 
 marked that " the better element had forced the 
 nomination of a respectable citizen upon the re 
 luctant politicians." 
 
 The joke was finishing, and the delegates were 
 preparing to renew their fervor and their demon 
 stration, to complete the stampede, in short, when 
 a man struggled through the human tangle on the 
 platform, twisting, crawling, lunging desperately 
 his way, behind him, helping to confirm the open- 
 
 221
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ing with his elbows and shoulders, a strapping 
 farmer-boy. 
 
 He emerged upon the platform s edge, over 
 which his toes projected. The farmer at his back 
 pushed and shoved until a small half ring was 
 formed with space to turn in. 
 
 The man sprang erect and flung up long arms 
 at the Convention; it was a frantic appeal to be 
 heard in the face of a wall of sound. He turned 
 head and arm toward the Chairman and impera 
 tively demanded recognition. He was Governor 
 Ransom. 
 
 Corlis bent to the Boss, who emphatically shook 
 his head. The Chairman turned to the Senator, 
 who nodded gravely. Thereupon the Chairman 
 threw up an open left hand and swung his gavel 
 with his right. All the howling assembly saw that 
 he had disregarded McBride s advice. Their curi 
 osity was lit. 
 
 Dramatic possibilities impended; to allow them 
 way the uproar died down somewhat; the gal 
 leries paused. Corlis waved a hand at Ransom 
 and with a smile took advantage of the moment 
 to ask by gesture the indulgence of the Conven 
 tion for his enemy. 
 
 It had a generous semblance, and the assembly 
 liked the chivalry; it was an appeal for fair play 
 for his arch foe. There are arts, subtler than elo- 
 
 222
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 quence, whereby the humor of a political conven 
 tion may be pleased. 
 
 McBride dinned in Corlis ear, 
 
 " It s a damn long chance you re takin . Mind 
 you, it ain t easy to set em off again." 
 
 The Chairman from his height cried back, 
 
 "Teach you a trick this time, McBride; I 
 know what I m doing." 
 
 " Faith, I hope so," growled the Boss; " you re 
 the only one what does." 
 
 Corlis soothed the murmur of the Convention 
 with outspread palms. Then he withdrew a foot 
 and bowed to Ransom, as if to say, 
 
 " I ve hushed the flood for you; now embark 
 on it, if you dare." 
 
 Ransom sprang at the opportunity; he did not 
 wait to so much as recognize his magnanimous 
 rival. Mrs. Corlis made a mental note. 
 
 Stillness reigned; men held their breath until 
 the Governor should begin. 
 
 You dare not, you dare not, Republicans of 
 Illinois," he shrilled, " nominate this plutocrat 
 and money-master upon a platform explicitly bi 
 metallic and in spirit democratic! " 
 
 His voice mounted with every word, until he 
 flung the challenge forth in such a clarion pitch 
 that it pierced the dullest ear and carried to the 
 farthest wall. 
 
 He paused to let it carry. Tall, slim, erect, he 
 223
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 stood, meriting his sobriquet of the " Egyptian 
 Palm." The compact head, its high temples bare, 
 was a little thrown back, the dark eyes beneath the 
 low broad forehead flaming like live coals. The 
 face was thin with passion, coarseness and the 
 stains of dissipation quite burned out in the intense 
 fire of the crisis, leaving the features pure in their 
 original classicism, in the dignity of their antique 
 Roman mould. 
 
 He framed his declaration to another text and 
 hung it high for all to see. He insulted their dis 
 sent so strenuously that amazement held them 
 rigid with the instantaneous wish to learn how far 
 audacity might carry him. Picturesque and grand 
 iose, his championship of a forlorn hope, his de 
 fiance of a huge majority, caught his hearers 
 fancy. In that city of the enemy he had subdued 
 delegates and galleries alike to attention. 
 
 It had fared ill then with any hardy fool who 
 had interposed his howl. Ransom had w on his 
 hearing. 
 
 He felt he had, and instantly he changed his 
 method. He abandoned challenge and adopted 
 logic. His swift words he was the most rapid 
 speaker in the state flew forth distinct as notes 
 carried from a resonant bell, but barbed like bul 
 lets from a rifle s barrel. 
 
 He showed the contradiction; he proved the 
 disparity; he compared the platform with the can- 
 
 224
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 didate. And after demonstration, to supply an 
 eating acid to his logic, he let loose scorn and fury, 
 vituperation and what seemed the bottled hatred 
 of a lifetime. He peeled his living victim before 
 the eyes of the Convention, as a boy peels a wil 
 low wand. The while his victim, bland and cool, 
 with no least sign of perturbation or of anger on 
 his handsome face, stood with gavel in his hand, 
 ready to rebuke any interruption to the speaker. 
 
 Ransom was closing his short speech. This 
 was the cheat, he said, which Boss and Magnate 
 had combined to foist upon honest men with an 
 honest cause a cheat of words. The platform 
 was a lie, it was a mockery, condemned as such by 
 debasing it into a footstool and a pedestal for a 
 candidate who belied its principles and despised its 
 framers. True men, men possessed of an honest 
 faith, were to be drugged into acquiescence by the 
 opium of false pretenses while attired in the stolen 
 livery of the people; a corporation candidate, who 
 had fattened on corporation plunder all his life, 
 conspired to sneak into the governor s chair, there 
 to coin into commercial gold the people s hopes, 
 the people s rights. 
 
 And these were his last words : 
 
 " Nominate this man and you perjure your 
 selves, you stultify your platform. Nominate him 
 and you will lose in November. Thereby you will 
 proclaim your belief that the people are fools, that 
 
 225
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 you can offer them bread in a platform and palm 
 off a stone for a candidate. I am a life-long Re 
 publican and I have participated in the delibera 
 tions of this Convention; therefore, I cannot with 
 grace walk out of this hall. But dare any man of 
 you tell me I can with consistency vote next No 
 vember for this bilingual product of your august 
 deliberations a platform of silver and a nominee 
 all gold!" 
 
 He finished. The Convention sat stunned; the 
 brilliancy had been that of too vivid lightning. 
 
 Before Egypt even recovered sufficiently to 
 cheer her champion, Chairman Corlis, with superb 
 composure and fascinating smile, inquired what 
 the pleasure of the Convention might be. Caesar, 
 courting the crowd, had not more pleasing accom 
 modation; condescension became Corlis. 
 
 Egypt saw she was outgeneraled; she roared 
 too late. 
 
 Vote, vote, vote!" came like timed volleys 
 from the trained ranks of McBride. " Vote, 
 vote, vote! " the refrain was taken up. It spread; 
 it submerged the Egyptian clamor. It was im 
 perious, not to be denied. 
 
 Temper had changed. Before the speech, the 
 Convention had been white-hot; now it was steely 
 cold. Ransom had persuaded no one; his impre 
 cations had but crystallized the majority s deter 
 mination. His declaration was magnificent, but 
 
 226
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 it was not politics. Probably he had despaired of 
 politics, and so had resolved to make it war. 
 
 The delegates could now be counted to do the 
 work relentlessly. 
 
 At least, that seemed McBride s judgment, 
 when Corlis consulted him. 
 
 " Can they be depended on? " 
 
 " Yep, let em take the bit. That yap has made 
 em tired. They want to get down to bizness. 
 It s dead safe." 
 
 227
 
 A 
 
 XXIV 
 
 HER HERO 
 
 WOMAN, spectator of the struggle be 
 tween men, may, so she have mind, attain 
 something of the impartiality of the artist. 
 Masculine egoism, at least, does not stigmatize 
 her vision. Besides, to woman the game seems al 
 ways worth the candle. What to man is a sordid 
 or a farcical contention, ever appears to her melo 
 dramatic fancy a fine and heroic piece. 
 
 So with Mrs. Corlis. Driving homewards in 
 the gathering darkness, with J. J. J. at her side, 
 her imagination was still alight with scenes from 
 the Convention a tumult of impressions, a pano 
 rama of animated episodes, varied by a few grand 
 pictures of the whole hall and crowd. 
 
 Her mind recreated, spontaneously, incessantly. 
 It restored that boisterous lake of men, ringed by 
 the clamorous galleries; and in the midst the plat 
 form, a low island beaten with the assaulting surf 
 of the " stampede." The electric glare, the pallid 
 faces, the unleashed passions, the will, the mad 
 ness all the contrasted colors and furious aspects 
 of that half-hour s scene were vividly recast. 
 Again she saw that straight, defiant figure; again 
 
 228
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 she felt the sudden silence he evoked; again she 
 heard the winged words that flew and stung and 
 challenged. And the thrill flashed through her 
 once again, the exultant thrill that follows the wit 
 nessing of a strong deed, of a deed of genius. 
 One man, by sheer force of passion, had awed ten 
 thousand; one man had held a mob as a fearless 
 hunter might hold a snarling wolf by the ears. 
 One man had told his assembled enemies the un 
 welcome truth. 
 
 Still shone for her that lonely figure, about 
 whose form her fancy, from the high romance of 
 forlorn hopes and fables of defeated champions, 
 wove gleams and splendors. 
 
 But there intruded a new picture and shunted 
 the old down to forgetfulness ; so success ousts 
 failure. The new picture a climbing peak of ac 
 claiming men, a quivering pyramid of flags and 
 standards and shaken hats, an unquenchable roar 
 and miraculous commotion, and at the top, the 
 summit and the crown of it, a figure lifted up, a 
 Caesarean head, a pale countenance, smiling, im 
 perturbable ! Above a tempest of human intem 
 perance, this one face of cool comprehension and 
 invincible poise! To his wife incontestably his 
 was the eminence of the demigod. 
 
 J. J. J. disturbed the circuit of her thoughts. 
 What did you think of the hullabaloo, 
 229
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Vicky?" His tone was irreverent. "Appeared 
 to me something like a backyard cat concert." 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Johnny, you are such a depred 
 ator." 
 
 " Humph, you get to be when you are ac 
 quainted with the inside, the inside of anything. 
 The wheels behind ain t gilded up like the clock 
 face before." 
 
 " But illusions even they are something." 
 
 They are ignorance," he declared, but not un 
 kindly. 
 
 " I know just how you feel. You re making he 
 roes, Vicky, that s what you re doing. You had 
 better talk to me instead. Your Uncle Johnny 
 may be plain, but he ll never disappoint you, de 
 pend on that." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis understood, but she disregarded 
 what he implied. 
 
 " Oh, I would not have missed it for the world; 
 I think it was simply great ! " she cried, like a 
 young girl. 
 
 " Great dust, great noise, many people. Not 
 great men. The sentiment and claptrap was all 
 rigged up beforehand, planned in some hotel or 
 saloon by fat-stomached Irishmen and others who 
 spit on the floor." 
 
 " I ll not hear it, Uncle Johnny, I will not! I 
 prefer to be fooled." 
 
 Mr. Jarrett said no more upon that theme. 
 230
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 But he watched her solicitously through the din 
 ner they ate alone together, and afterwards he sat 
 silently with her, while she pretended to read. 
 
 She hardly pretended, but let the book fall 
 upon her lap and stared with large eyes above it. 
 She had given orders that she was not at home to 
 any one that night; for her nerves had been tried 
 sufficiently that day, and she wished to think and 
 feel. 
 
 Presently, however, telegrams began pouring in, 
 congratulations for her husband, some for her 
 self. They were messages from her friends in 
 Washington, in New York, at Newport. She 
 tired of reading them very soon, and directed that 
 they be left to accumulate until next morning. 
 
 She was thinking, thrilling. She was a little 
 self-condemnatory, but chiefly very happy. 
 
 She felt she understood now, as she never had 
 before, how what he styled her Puritanism irri 
 tated him. Truly, it was her provinciality which 
 had been at fault, and not the perversities of his 
 nature. That afternoon s revelation of his great 
 ness altered the standards she used to judge. She 
 understood him now; and all these years she had 
 been girding at a Lorenzo de Medici in vain dis 
 satisfaction because he was not, forsooth, a mid 
 dle-class gentleman. What she had required was 
 impossible; what she expected him to be, a para 
 dox. A man cannot succeed Napoleonically and 
 
 231
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 retain the domestic virtue and spic and span mo 
 ralities of the late Prince Consort. 
 
 But his greatness was now demonstrated; that 
 gave her keenest joy. But even so, the joy was 
 less than the relief. For his infidelities had been 
 so hard to bear; his cynical estimates of men and 
 things had sometimes seemed so cheap. It had 
 nearly been her shame, at times, to know that she 
 loved him, that he so dominated her senses as to 
 compromise her spirit. How different now ! She 
 could not only love him openly even to herself, but 
 she could be proud. Her devotion was to no taw 
 dry hero; nay, it constituted a glad sacrifice, such 
 as the wives of great men ever had been called 
 upon to yield. Yet he had only, assumed a privi 
 lege of greatness, and for the privilege of being 
 wife to a great man, a noble woman willingly 
 would pay. 
 
 With her readjusted estimate her woman s 
 heart went out; she would beg forgiveness for 
 her narrow-mindedness; she would recompense 
 him in the future for all those blind lost years. 
 
 The future ! Recollection came like a stab 
 her future would not be long enough to do it in. 
 
 She went upstairs to have herself arrayed. 
 When her great man came home to her after his 
 day of triumph, he should find a wife royally at 
 tired, wearing her diamonds, besprinkled with 
 pearls, all to honor him. If she were not beautiful 
 
 232
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 or young, she was assured she could be at least 
 what he more highly valued, sumptuous and regal. 
 She would find favor in his eyes, when her pomp 
 proclaimed to him what was the truth, that he 
 owned a wife whom in riches and in power not 
 five women in all America could surpass. 
 
 233
 
 XXV 
 
 HIS HOME-COMING 
 
 THE house was very still, and Mrs. Corlis 
 walked to and fro through its wide rooms, 
 dim except for the reflection from the illu 
 mined hall. Mr. Jarrett had gone to bed and the 
 servants had disappeared; only one sleepy foot 
 man remained nodding in the entry by the great 
 street-door. 
 
 As she wandered through the stretch of rooms, 
 her mind went running back among the years, fif 
 teen of them, that she had been a married woman. 
 They had been years of service; the recognition of 
 that fact was not new to her. That they also had 
 proved years of success, of helping a great man to 
 his own, was new. And the consolation afforded 
 by this new perception, she hugged tightly to her 
 heart. 
 
 It allowed her to recall more fondly than she 
 had been able to recall for years, the particulars 
 of her romance and of the life they had lived to 
 gether. How he had entered in his calm, master 
 ful manner and, as at a stroke, altered all the 
 world for her; how she had picked him out her 
 self and taken him up, so to speak, with the ca- 
 
 234
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 price of royalty; how she had fought the battle 
 with her father and her uncle, compelling them to 
 welcome him! Then after she had married him, 
 what had she not done in his behalf: given him 
 opportunity, pleaded with her Uncle Johnny for 
 his advancement, shaped her \vhole career to ac 
 cord with his ambitions, conquered a leadership in 
 fashionable society to gratify his vanity. In truth, 
 she had donned his livery and worn his crest. 
 
 Withal she could not truthfully affirm that she 
 had influenced him perceptibly, or changed the or 
 bit of his course her finger s breadth. Bluntly put, 
 he had used her as a ladder by which to climb. 
 The perception of this truth had, heretofore, been 
 her bitterness; now she .conceived of it as her 
 glory, held the sweeter because of the sacrifice it 
 had entailed. 
 
 She had met Walter Corlis first in Washington. 
 He was then a clerk in one of the government de 
 partments at a salary of fifteen hundred a year. 
 He was born in New York, where his father had 
 been a local politician and small contractor, ad 
 mired for his tailor-like appearance, popular on 
 account of his geniality, and considered as one of 
 the few gentlemen attached to Tammany Hall. 
 His mother was a Virginian, who boasted, when 
 none were present to deny her fabrications, of the 
 feudal magnificence of her family before the war. 
 Corlis himself affected to rely upon his pedigree, 
 
 235
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 but in reality he trusted his future to his good 
 looks and his manner of distinction. Most of his 
 salary was put upon his back. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis could remember her exact impres 
 sion the first time she saw him. His hair was 
 raven black and his skin clear and without color. 
 His surfaces possessed a marmorean texture, and 
 she had thought immediately of statuary. His 
 figure increased the effect, as of a young god: 
 while under six feet, his symmetry was stately, the 
 shoulders broad, the chest deep, and the limbs en 
 dowed with a natural grace. 
 
 He was but upon the edges of society; yet he 
 had admirers and friends who spoke well of him. 
 He was very active in a fashionable Episcopal 
 church, and very grateful for any recognition 
 from the least of those above him. His character 
 istics commended him. The union of beauty and 
 strength, his possession of suavity and pride, im 
 pressed women more than could intellect, which is 
 open to challenge, or character, which is open to 
 doubt. Besides, it was that period in our social 
 development when a gentlemanly young man had 
 a value for his own sake. 
 
 How promptly she had fallen in love with him. 
 And he, despite his gratitude and his humility, had 
 rather accepted the condescension as perhaps 
 his due, than on his own account wooed and won 
 
 236
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 the richest heiress and most brilliant toast of the 
 capital. 
 
 Her father had endeavored to remonstrate, or, 
 at least, to postpone the finality. He was not op 
 posed because of the young clerk s impecuniosity. 
 But he had formed intellectual ambitions for his 
 daughter; he wished her to marry some man of 
 genius, some future leader of the nation. He 
 cherished a scholarly admiration for the women 
 of the French salons, and, in view of his daugh 
 ter s reputation for wit and of her friendships 
 with statesmen, he had dreamed that she might, in 
 Washington, repeat the achievements of Dolly 
 Madison and of Kate Chase. 
 
 She had appealed from her father to her uncle. 
 
 " Come over and help me," she wrote. 
 
 J. J. J. replied, 
 
 " Of course, if that is what you want. Only be 
 sure you are not fooled." And he hastened back 
 from Europe to look the young man over and to 
 gratify his darling, if he could. 
 
 " Um," he exclaimed, and combed his loose 
 beard with his fingers. " He s nobody s fool> 
 Vicky. Might be a little more so for my taste. 
 His eye s mighty cool, and I guess he likes lux 
 uries and to have people bow to him." 
 
 She had flamed out magnanimously, " If you 
 mean he wants money, Uncle Johnny, why 
 shouldn t he, and why shouldn t he have it, too? 
 
 237
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 He is a gentleman and entitled to it. Besides, he s 
 fitted to adorn any position, and I do not want him 
 to feel the lack of money any more." 
 
 J. J. J. looked at his niece and quietly capitu 
 lated. 
 
 Well, well, Vicky, I guess your Uncle Johnny 
 11 have to see about it." 
 
 To Senator Dawes he said: 
 
 " Simeon, it ain t any use opposing her. Her 
 mind s set, I guess, and that sort of set she gets 
 good and plenty from both sides of the house." 
 A twinkle illumined J. J. J. s eye. 
 
 He proved more than liberal; he sent them to 
 Europe for their wedding tour and he afterwards 
 made Corlis his representative in Chicago. He 
 built her a house on the Lake Shore Drive and he 
 bought her a cottage at Newport. He gave her 
 securities and properties, besides yearly adding to 
 his gifts until she was counted one of the richest 
 women in her own right in America. He helped 
 Corlis consistently and acknowledged the latter s 
 great capacity; nevertheless, he made it impolitely 
 plain that Corlis shared his favor and was ad 
 vanced because " Vicky said so." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis had ceased her walking and now 
 lay half-reclined on a window-seat in the dimmest 
 corner of the drawing-room. And as her mind 
 moved back through recollection s maze, it chose 
 to dwell upon the pleasing things of her marriage, 
 
 238
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 and to slight what she had suffered. But, despite 
 the gladness the recognition of her husband s suc 
 cess had brought to her, despite the relief occa 
 sioned by the demonstration of his greatness, 
 strive as she might, she could not wholly eject 
 from her consciousness a dully remorseful convic 
 tion that she herself had deteriorated. For him 
 she had done everything, even changed her ideals. 
 Had it cost her soul nothing? 
 
 She was roused by the striking of a clock four 
 times. She half sat up. 
 
 The conference with those politicians must 
 have been interminable," was her thought. 
 
 Then she heard a sound in the hall and she 
 knew he had come. She started to her feet, 
 smoothing out her skirts. She was trembling as 
 she went forward; she hoped she was not disar 
 rayed. She stood back a bit from the broad 
 stream of light that came in from the hall. She 
 could hear his slow steps on the marble and she 
 shrank, she was so eager. 
 
 As he came through the doors, with an effort 
 she stepped into the light, her hands outstretched 
 to welcome him, in her eyes almost a bridal loveli 
 ness. 
 
 He stepped toward her and half turned, so that 
 the light struck his face. She stood rooted, turned 
 to stone. 
 
 The high hat on his head was tilted and his
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 cravat was twisted to one side. His frock coat 
 was rumpled and unbuttoned at the top. His face 
 was fixed and pallid and his eyes had an unseeing 
 look. 
 
 " Victoria," he commenced with gravity. Only 
 a slight tremor was in his voice. You under 
 stand I m a statesman, a great man, a statesman. 
 I am Governor Corlis, his excellency, and you re 
 his excellency s wife. You re proud of me; you 
 ought to be proud of me; say you are." 
 
 He lurched as he stood and put an arm out to 
 restore his balance. His loose hand struck a Jap 
 anese vase from a pedestal. It crashed on the 
 hardwood floor. 
 
 "What s that?" He peered as if down a 
 precipice. " Oh, that, Victoria, is how the Sena 
 tor would have smashed, if it hadn t been for me. 
 I am the boss of the bosses, I am ! I run McBride 
 and the state." 
 
 She conquered her physical repugnance. His 
 vinous vanity made him pitiable. She stepped 
 close to him. 
 
 " Come, Walter, come. I ll help you." 
 
 He was filled for a moment with maudlin senti 
 ment. 
 
 ; I need it, Vicky. You are too good to 
 me." 
 
 Was it fancy, or did she perceive a faint odor 
 of Turkish cigarettes? She laid her hand on his 
 
 240
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 breast to take his attention. Her fingers felt 
 silken strands. She caught back her hand, as if it 
 had touched fire. Alive, she looked. He was 
 turned full to the light now, and nets of blonde 
 hair shone on the breast of his coat. 
 
 She stared, then recoiled as if struck, and slid 
 lifelessly to the floor at his feet. 
 
 The drunkard apostrophized above her. He 
 babbled of his own glory, of his power and com 
 ing fame. 
 
 * I ll be the foremost American," he vowed. 
 
 241
 
 XXVI 
 
 A POLITICAL BREAKFAST 
 
 HER mind clung tenaciously to the concep 
 tion of her husband s greatness, and if 
 anywhere her mind failed in faith, her 
 will insisted upon its truth. 
 
 The morning papers were brought in to her with 
 her chocolate and she scanned their columns in 
 bed. Announcement of the nominations and news 
 of the Convention led the front page of every one, 
 the name of the nominee for governor being 
 printed in big, black type. The whole first page 
 of The Pundit, indeed, was occupied by a picture 
 of Walter H. D. Corlis, while directly beneath, in 
 the narrow margin left at the bottom, appeared a 
 summary of the main events of his life. Every 
 paper, besides, devoted two columns or more to 
 an account of the man and his remarkable career. 
 Their reading impressed Mrs. Corlis with the fact 
 that the editorial imagination had been captured 
 just as that of the Convention had been won. 
 
 It was evident that his figure, his personality, 
 his good-fortune, appealed to the average Ameri 
 can as romantic; that his success was about what 
 the wide-awake usual man would have desired for 
 
 242
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 himself, if wishes had been notes of demand. 
 This gentleman, the editors virtually said, whom 
 we present to the attention of the public this 
 morning, deserves your admiration : he is the son- 
 in-law of Senator Dawes, the husband of that 
 leader of fashion, Mrs. Corlis, the representative 
 in Chicago of his wife s uncle, J. J. Jarrett; he is 
 a millionaire himself, destined ultimately to co 
 lossal wealth, and he is head of the powerful syn 
 dicate which controls Chicago s transportation; 
 he has now been nominated for governor, he will 
 most probably be elected, and as he is an astute 
 politician and an able manager, it is not exaggera 
 tion to declare that some day he may become 
 President of the United States. 
 
 The Pundit s picture of Mr. Corlis pleased his 
 wife. The longer she looked at it, the more in 
 clined she was to pronounce it remarkable. In 
 deed, it quite fascinated her eye, as, she fancied 
 proudly, it must have fascinated the thousands 
 who had seen The Pundit that morning. The 
 likeness, she felt, reproduced what was Mr. Cor 
 lis best aspect, certainly his strongest; its effect, 
 she repeated, was not untrue, although she owned 
 that it was favorable. But all who regarded vic 
 torious beauty in a man, must be strongly drawn 
 by it; she herself not the least, even if she sus 
 pected the Csesarean line in the profile was empha- 
 
 243
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 sized, and the curvature of indulgence luckily or 
 dexterously suppressed. 
 
 At the angle presented in the picture the nose 
 showed finely aquiline and the set of the firm 
 chin indicated resolution and sustained fighting 
 force, while the arch of the upper head bespoke 
 the moral and intellectual balance of the great 
 man. True, there were idealizations, or better, 
 perhaps, accentuations of the real; yet the picture 
 was a might-have-been Mr. Corlis, nay, Mr. Cor- 
 lis as he essentially was. Gold, she told herself, 
 was precious gold, whether in alloy or in state of 
 purity. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis was to give a small political break 
 fast that morning at noon, and at eleven o clock 
 she went downstairs to review the arrangements, 
 and add the last touches with her own hands to 
 the table. There her husband s man came to her 
 to say that Mr. Corlis was dressing and wanted 
 the morning papers. 
 
 " They are all in my room; ask my maid," she 
 directed. " But wait," she amended, " I will take 
 them to Mr. Corlis myself in a moment." It 
 would afford her an opportune chance, she re 
 flected, to show that she had forgotten the event 
 of the night before. 
 
 Bearing the voluminous newspaper sheets, she 
 stood at the threshold of her husband s dressing- 
 room. He was dressed except for his coat, and 
 
 244
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 standing before the glass parting his thinning hair. 
 She admired his thin waist, set off by his waist 
 coat, and fancied how well he looked in white 
 shirt-sleeves. 
 
 She was all smiles. 
 
 " Like Lord Byron, Walter, you awake this 
 fine morning to find yourself famous. Do I in 
 trude?" 
 
 " Come in, Victoria." He dismissed the shade 
 of annoyance that had appeared in his face. " I 
 am honored." Did some irony linger in his 
 tone? " Perhaps I may owe you some small apol 
 ogy for last night. Is it not so?" He made a so 
 licitous bow and set his wife a chair. 
 
 She sat down, well in the center of the room. 
 
 " Oh, I think of nothing this joyful morning 
 but of what the newspapers say," she declared cor 
 dially. "They re grand, Walter!" And she 
 flaunted them gaily before his eyes. " See, see ! " 
 she cried. 
 
 He took his honors easily. 
 
 " Pray tell me about them, Victoria, or you 
 might read me extracts, while I polish myself off 
 for your show," he smiled good-humoredly. Then 
 he yawned a bit. " Your breakfast has pulled me 
 out of bed a little too soon, I fancy; I needed an 
 other half hour for perfection. Wonder how the 
 other fellows feel." 
 
 She disregarded his remarks. " How do you 
 
 245
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 like this, Walter? " she inquired, " or this piece of 
 eulogy " " And this. Is not this a great com 
 pliment? " " Here is the old Times, calling you 
 The Man Destined to be President " " Do lis 
 ten to this; did you ever dream such fine things 
 would be said of you? " 
 
 Her enthusiasm increased to rhapsody; she 
 brimmed over with the naive joy of a child. 
 
 Why, I didn t fancy they were half so nice till 
 I read them," she declared. " They are splendid. 
 Oh, I am so pleased! There s nothing in all the 
 world, Walter, to be compared with hearing you 
 praised, nothing whatever. And the picture of 
 you in The Pundit, is it not just the best? A 
 chance stroke of genius, I call it. Do you not see, 
 it is you at your truest and greatest, Walter, you, 
 as I always think to myself you are." 
 
 He gave signs of restlessness under this grow 
 ing poetical appreciation, and she quickly reverted 
 to earth. " Wherever did they get it from, I 
 wonder? " 
 
 " Glad you like it, Victoria picked it out for 
 them myself," Mr. Corlis explained, as he gave a 
 last brush to his hair. " You see before the Con 
 vention yesterday I looked over all the photo 
 graphs I had ever had taken; I knew, of course, 
 I was to be nominated and that I d have all the 
 newspapers after me for my latest picture. So I 
 had it ready for them never neglect the press, is 
 
 246
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 my maxim. Unfortunately I found only one copy 
 of that picture, and it I sent round to The Pundit, 
 with the request that they use it if they meant to 
 publish my picture at all. I regretted I did not 
 have more of them, as I thought, myself, the like 
 ness was calculated to impress people pretty well 
 with me." He ended with a laugh. 
 
 She said presently she must go look after her 
 breakfast. 
 
 "Whom do you expect?" her husband in 
 quired. " I suppose, since it turns out I am the 
 nominee, I must consider myself the guest of 
 honor." 
 
 " On the contrary," she smiled back. " It s not 
 you, it s the Pater. I have invited a number of 
 his friends to meet Mr. McBride and some of the 
 latter s henchmen, as I suppose they are to be 
 called. Mayor Murphy will be present and two 
 other Irishmen besides." 
 
 " You wish to rivet your alliance for time and 
 eternity, I see," laughed Mr. Corlis. " You don t 
 mean to let anything get away from you." 
 
 " My wish is to promote harmony," she re 
 joined. " Confess, please, I have managed rather 
 well." 
 
 " There is no doubt of that, Victoria you re a 
 diplomat of the first water. You certainly have 
 reduced McBride to obedience, and you ve an 
 nexed his wife, too." He added, as if from a sud- 
 
 247
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 den inspiration, while he watched her, in a cau 
 tious aside, " I only wish you would do the same 
 by that obstreperous old friend of yours, Governor 
 Ransom. If he, now, were to be one of your 
 guests, Victoria, this dinner would be really worth 
 while." 
 
 " Would it not," she frankly agreed. " But 
 the conquest of a boss, I fear, is a light task com 
 pared to that of a governor; especially such a for 
 midable incorrigible as Randolph Ransom." She 
 laughed uneasily. 
 
 " Oh, I m not so sure," he urged. " You must 
 know him as few others can. I d like to have you 
 happen to meet him again, I can tell you ; I would 
 bet on my own chances more cheerfully, if you 
 did." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis looked at her husband with sudden 
 sharpness. Did he mean what he said or rather, 
 was there any meaning in what he said? But Mr. 
 Corlis was critically surveying his clothed figure 
 in the glass, and his face, taken up with small 
 cares, upon the large point of her anxiety was in 
 scrutable. 
 
 The Convention had not adjourned the night 
 before until after eleven o clock, as the nomina 
 tions to supplement that for governor could not be 
 finished at an earlier hour. The politicians who 
 sat down to Mrs. Corlis breakfast accordingly 
 had all come from late beds, and the mood of 
 
 248
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 none of them could be described as brisk. The 
 nominee himself was the only man around the 
 board, except J. J. J., of course, who did not bear 
 marks of the strain the week had been. Mr. Cor- 
 lis was freshly shaven, just out of his tub, as gay 
 and debonair as if he had been an irresponsible 
 young man of twenty-six, instead of the cool 
 schemer of forty-five, immersed in cares and 
 plenty of sins. 
 
 At the right hand of his niece sat J. J. J., taci 
 turn, inquisitive, dreamy, holding all of them in 
 his fear. Boss McBride held the seat of honor 
 next Mr. Corlis, while Senator Dawes filled that 
 on his son-in-law s other hand. Between, complet 
 ing the circle, were ranged the Senator s friends, 
 Crawford, Wood, and Johnson, alternating with 
 Mayor Murphy and two other representatives of 
 the Chicago Machine. Ruggles, whom Mrs. Cor 
 lis had invited because she wished him to meet in 
 timately the powers she had assembled at her ta 
 ble, was placed upon the hostess left, since she 
 fancied the proximity would contribute to his as 
 surance, as well as to the respect accorded him by 
 the others. 
 
 Apart from the power of her arts, Mrs. Corlis 
 was singularly attractive that morning. Dark cir 
 cles underscored her eyes, her mouth could not 
 succeed in concealing all its pain, while her voice 
 was not wholly sure it trembled slightly. Su- 
 
 249
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 perficially she was in the gayest spirits, and it 
 might have been a physical mood which colored 
 sadly the blitheness of her tone. Yet those men, 
 who were in awe of her, overwhelmed by her pres 
 tige, discovered, subtly, the weakness of the 
 woman behind the confidence of the grand dame, 
 and if, before, they had been disposed to kneel in 
 homage, they were now ready to bow in idolatry. 
 
 As it turned out, the breakfast had not pro 
 gressed far before Governor Ransom became the 
 theme; the conversation constantly reverted to 
 him, even after it had been a number of times ob 
 viously led into other directions. 
 
 Mr. Corlis, to notice his wife s protege, and, 
 perhaps, to turn the subject without seeming to do 
 so, observed: 
 
 That was a brilliant description in this morn 
 ing s Pundit of the Governor s tour de force. W 
 are to suppose you guilty of it, Mr. Ruggles, are 
 we not? " 
 
 Chris reddened. 
 
 " Yes, I wrote it, Mr. Corlis. We reporters, as 
 you know, are required to advance the picturesque 
 incident, if such can by any means be discovered," 
 he explained. " That accounts for the papers 
 making so much of the speech, although in actual 
 political effect it probably amounted to very lit 
 tle." 
 
 " Ransom always did possess the faculty of 
 250
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 seizing the dramatic moment and getting himself 
 in the middle of the stage," observed Senator 
 Dawes. " It is that invariable instinct of his that 
 keeps him before the public." 
 
 " But what of it," rumbled the Boss, " it all 
 don t help him none. He s helped fill up the pa 
 pers with himself this morning, and yesterday he 
 stopped proceedin s for a bit; but he s ousted 
 from the committees, and he didn t turn a dele 
 gate from where he was to go." 
 
 The Senator was disposed to argue. 
 
 "I don t know, McBride; I m not so sure. 
 That it was a powerful deliverance we must all 
 admit, and well as I know the Governor, I didn t 
 think he had it in him." 
 
 " But what did the whole hullabaloo amount to 
 at that, is what I want to know," snorted Mc 
 Bride, not in disdain of the Senator, but in con 
 tempt for the speech. " Mebbe it made him feel 
 fine, but that s all he ll get out of it." 
 
 " Even of that I m not so sure," replied " Un 
 cle Simeon " with a dryness exasperating to Mc 
 Bride. " These newspapers that make so much 
 of the speech and so much of the scene, will circu 
 late all through the state; thousands will read 
 them, thousands will be impressed." 
 
 " Let the Governor have the newspapers, and 
 the processions, too, if he wants em bad," the 
 Boss asserted, " so we get the delegates in Con- 
 
 251
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 vention and the organization afterwards. It s 
 them that produces votes." 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt," acquiesced the Senator, 
 in his driest and drollest manner, " but there is 
 one thing you don t want to lose sight of, Mc- 
 Bride, and that s the little joker, called Public 
 Opinion. Don t get it stirred up; for, if you do, 
 the peepul will be heard." 
 
 McBride bristled. Perhaps he felt it well to 
 show his followers their chief was too big a man 
 to be silenced by a Senator; but Mr. Corlis suave 
 ly intervened : 
 
 You mistake the Senator, excuse me, Mc 
 Bride, and the Senator mistakes you. You are 
 thinking of Chicago, naturally, while the Senator 
 is thinking of the state. And if there are any two 
 who know more about each respectively than you 
 two, let the pair trot out; I have not the honor of 
 their acquaintance." He smiled and paused. 
 
 The Senator deferred; the Boss looked ap 
 peased. 
 
 " You re right there, Mr. Corlis," Mayor Mur 
 phy said. 
 
 " And McBride is right," resumed Mr. Corlis, 
 " so far as the effect of the speech on Chicago 
 goes. But Governor Ransom was not talking for 
 Chicago s benefit, not primarily even to the Con 
 vention, I suppose. From that platform he was 
 
 252
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 addressing Illinois, the down-the-state region, and 
 that is the Senator s old stamping ground." 
 
 " Well, who cares ? Lef him chin." McBride 
 threw up his hands, to speak figuratively; the sub 
 ject had become too involved for him. 
 
 " That is the trouble, he will," rejoined Mr. 
 Corlis. " Unless, indeed," he looked quizzically 
 about the table, " some one here knows how to 
 muzzle him. We ve no man down the state, gen 
 tlemen, who can deliver us the vote, as McBride 
 here can Chicago s, sealed, sworn to, and at 
 tested." He paused again. " Has any one a 
 plan? " he asked. 
 
 " It ain t my funeral," grunted the Boss; " it s 
 not inside my district." 
 
 He was not converted, though silenced. At this 
 period of his career Chicago constituted the sum 
 and boundary of the knowledge of McBride: it 
 was later, and through defeat, that he learned the 
 temper of the state. He had not yet acquired 
 "the polish" he was gradually to take on; he 
 was, in fact, but a ward boss developed into a city 
 boss, and wistfully anxious for some recognition 
 from Springfield and from Washington. He was 
 as ignorant of matters without Cook County as 
 he was confirmed in the correctness of his judg 
 ments of matters within, and hence his severe 
 skepticism concerning all things not absolutely un 
 der his nose. What experience had taught him 
 
 253
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 he would rigidly apply to what he had never ex 
 perienced, a positivism not monopolized by men 
 of the type of McBride. 
 
 At this juncture Senator Dawes inclined his 
 head just perceptibly in the reporter s direction, 
 and winked an eye in slow decorum. 
 
 We are upon the verge of an important dis 
 cussion of ways and means," he suggested. 
 
 " Oh, I will stand sponsor for Mr. Ruggles," 
 quickly declared Mrs. Corlis. " Mr. McBride 
 will join me on his bond, I am sure." 
 
 " Anything you want, Mrs. Corlis," the Boss 
 said, answering her smile. " And, young feller," 
 he added, addressing Ruggles, " if not for Mrs. 
 Corlis, I d do it on Miss Brown s account." His 
 big face beamed with pleasure for the " one he 
 had put on Chris." Out of a friendly feeling he 
 admonished him, " Remember McBride, when 
 you get yourself into trouble." 
 
 Chris blushed, a phenomenon which Mr. Corlis 
 noted. 
 
 " So that is her name," hastily whispered Mrs. 
 Corlis. She announced, 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. McBride. Mr. Ruggles, I 
 assure everybody, is wholly of my party, and his 
 efforts, I fancy, are pledged for my candidates." 
 
 " Ah, I drink to your enlistment, Mr. Rug 
 gles," smiled Mr. Corlis. The company raised 
 their glasses, enjoying the humor. 
 
 254
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 But " how to muzzle Ransom " soon reclaimed, 
 as a subject, the attention of the table. If each 
 guest was heard upon the question, no guest pro 
 posed any practicable method. The best sugges 
 tion came from Senator Dawes, who had been the 
 Governor s intimate political friend for twenty 
 years. Finally the sense of them all confided the 
 matter to the discretion of " Uncle Simeon," with 
 the understanding that the latter should try how 
 far his influence would avail with his former lieu 
 tenant. 
 
 " I think some of going down to Primrose Hill 
 for a week, to rest up before I go back to Wash 
 ington," explained the Senator. "And mebbe I can 
 induce Governor Ransom to drop up from Spring 
 field for a day to sort of talk it over." The Sen 
 ator dug a fork absent-mindedly into the table 
 cloth. " Now, if I could get Mrs. Corlis to go 
 down with me and open the house and entertain a 
 Governor as he should be entertained, 1 think it 
 might help some," he said, almost slyly. " I will 
 appeal to the gentlemen present," he smiled be 
 nignly at them all. " Do they not think one of 
 Mrs. Corlis breakfasts might go pretty far 
 toward persuading the Governor? " 
 
 Opinion was unanimous. 
 
 * Give him one of them dinners, Mrs. Corlis; 
 it ll sejuice his heart," cried Boss McBride en 
 thusiastically, his tongue thick from wine. 
 
 255 
 
 17 M
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She winced at the verb. 
 
 " Oh," she laughed forcedly, " it will be im 
 possible for me to go down. I can t leave Uncle 
 Johnny, can I, Uncle Johnny?" 
 
 J. J. J. disagreed. 
 
 " Business is business, Vicky. I ve got to go 
 East to-morrow again, and if your heart s really 
 set on carrying this election, you had better all get 
 after that man Ransom. He s the feller to be 
 fixed, I guess," 
 
 256
 
 XXVII 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS 
 
 I WILL do all I can; I see how important it 
 is," she finally agreed. " I am not clear in 
 my mind how I can influence Governor Ran 
 som, but if I can, I will. As you say, it will not 
 do for us to leave untried any chance, and," she 
 smiled rather pitifully, " I suppose I am a chance." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis spoke thus without lifting her eyes 
 to her husband, who, with hat and gloves in hand, 
 had come into his wife s room to bid her good-by. 
 
 Thank you, Victoria," he expressed himself 
 gratefully, " I am sure you can do much, if you 
 will. You are as clever a wife as ever an ambi 
 tious man was blessed with, and I wish you could 
 know how much I admire and appreciate you." 
 
 Her yearning conquered her skepticism; she put 
 back her head to give him a deep glance from her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Ah, you do, a little, don t you, Walter? I 
 mean something to you, after all I weigh in your 
 life?" 
 
 The little emotional outburst, quiet and un- 
 dramatic as it was, annoyed as usual. But he re 
 pressed the irritation and politicly bent over her 
 chair, lightly to kiss her cheek. 
 
 257
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 "What do I not owe you, Victoria? Your 
 council, your encouragement, your talent for man 
 agement, have enabled me to succeed so far. If I 
 am elected, I shall know whom to thank. You 
 must not think ever that I m unappreciative, be 
 cause at times I find it hard to own how much I 
 have been made by my wife." 
 
 The tears sprang into her eyes; she turned her 
 face away that they might not disturb him. 
 
 You are generous, dear Walter." 
 
 " We part the best of friends then," he said, 
 briskly. He looked at the clock. " It s a quarter 
 of eleven and I must meet McBride down town on 
 the hour. Good-by and good luck." 
 
 She called after him, 
 
 " Rest assured I will do all that I can." 
 
 She was not assured in her own mind that she 
 had not been cajoled; but the suspicion was un 
 comfortable, and she preferred the warmth of her 
 heart s glow, even if it were inspired by an un 
 truth. She preferred to believe he had testified, 
 however reluctantly, to her importance in his life; 
 she wished to be convinced that she had a function. 
 That function she knew she had adequately per 
 formed. What woman in all America had done 
 for her husband what she had done how many 
 were capable of doing it? How many had failed, 
 when they tried. 
 
 She could do delicately and deftly what others 
 258
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 bungled; she was a power, she had molded 
 events. She compelled her husband s respect and 
 earned his thanks. She it was who had brought 
 about the reconciliation between her father and 
 Boss McBride, which had enabled her husband 
 to be named by the Convention; one other neces 
 sity existed which must be met in order to elect 
 the nominee, and tacit consent had assigned the 
 duty to her. She felt the compulsion of the obli 
 gation; she was constrained by the honor to be 
 won of her husband s approval; she was influ 
 enced by the exigency of her father s reelection. 
 Besides, she felt the drawing spell of the game, 
 the excitement of the hazard, and she increasingly 
 desired to put her own hand to the tangle and to 
 straighten out the strings. 
 
 Yet this woman, instinct now with the crafty 
 faculty for management, was the same who, the 
 day before, had been moved to a benevolent inter 
 ference in behalf of a love affair she suspected was 
 not moving to a beneficent conclusion. She had 
 contrived, after the breakfast, to isolate Chris 
 Ruggles with herself for ten minutes. 
 
 " Chris," she had teased, " the tall, golden- 
 crowned young woman who did not like it when I 
 went over to speak to you in the Convention, I 
 am sure was the Miss Brown Mr. McBride had 
 his joke about." 
 
 259
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " How did you know that? " asked honest Rug- 
 gles, in sheer embarrassment. 
 
 "Know what know that she was jealous?" 
 rallied Mrs. Corlis. " Oh, she didn t pretend to 
 conceal it. I can feel her wrathful eyes sticking 
 into me still. She is rather glorious, I think." 
 
 " I assure you, Mrs. Corlis, you are mistaken 
 she would never be jealous." 
 
 " Exactly what you are expected to affirm, my 
 dear Chris; but, believe me, we women know 
 women, as a thief catches a thief. But, tell me, 
 what is the rest of her name; I ve been styling 
 her Brunhild." 
 
 " I call her a Valkyr myself," replied Chris, de 
 lighted, " but her full name is just Hildegarde 
 Brown." 
 
 " A melodramatic-prosaic agglomeration," said 
 Mrs. Corlis, smilingly. 
 
 " It resembles herself, Mrs. Corlis." He was 
 all enthusiasm. "She looks the Valkyr you saw 
 it yet what she calls herself is a business woman. 
 She is as shrewd as a Jew in some ways, and in 
 others more generous than any Christian I know." 
 
 " That s a paradox peculiar to Chicago, I 
 fancy." 
 
 "Oh, she incarnates Chicago; she can have 
 impracticable enthusiasms, and she can drive a 
 bargain to strip the coat off one s back." 
 
 " I wish I knew her," mused Mrs. Corlis. 
 260
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " I wish you might," he exclaimed. " But it 
 would be too much to expect." 
 
 " Why, I m not above knowing whomever I 
 want to know," she smiled. " Ask Mrs. McBride 
 how she and I get along." 
 
 " Mrs. McBride and she are intimate friends," 
 said Chris. 
 
 " Ah, then I shall make her acquaintance, I 
 know; I can tell Mrs. McBride how anxious I am 
 to know her. And you, Chris, must persuade her 
 to be willing to meet me ; for I m not in her good 
 books, I fear." 
 
 " I never can believe that, Mrs. Corlis; but I 
 am sure I can remove her prejudices." 
 
 Chris proceeded to make his adieux, pleading 
 the necessity of his appearance at The Pundit 
 offices. 
 
 " It was very kind of you to have me to your 
 breakfast," he said warmly. " I think it quite an 
 honor, indeed." 
 
 " I am glad you could be here, Chris; I wanted 
 you to meet all these men, and to have them un 
 derstand you were my friend." 
 
 Her cordial eyes expressed her sincerity. 
 
 " Sometimes we reporters are able to help a 
 little in a way," he responded, rather clumsily; 
 " we can shove things along; and maybe I can be 
 of some service in my newspaper work in the cam 
 paign, Mrs. Corlis." , 
 
 261
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " That s good of you, Chris. I shall remem 
 ber it, and expect you to aid us, when the oppor 
 tunity comes." 
 
 She accompanied him even to the door, as an 
 act of graciousness, and saw him helped to his 
 hat and stick and bowed out by deferential ser 
 vants. 
 
 There was one charge that never was brought 
 against Mrs. Corlis; no one ever accused her of 
 being a snob. 
 
 262
 
 T 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 AT PRIMROSE HILL 
 
 HE long lands lay about the house, undulous 
 to the verge of sunset. Like some gorgeous 
 rug the variegated pattern of meadow, 
 pasture, grainfield, woodland, rolled away, green 
 and gold and rusty bronze, with the black of 
 denser foliages in the distance. Eastward the 
 slope went downward to the banks, and porches 
 scanned the scene the curving reaches of the 
 river, wending miles away, and the stretch of level 
 prairies spotted by great shadows of the clouds. 
 
 In the rooms of this, her childhood s home, 
 peace abode, and there brooded that deep sleep 
 which is medicinal. Soundless evening followed 
 one upon another in a rare succession, and still 
 midnights hung their canopies about the chamber 
 in which she lay. A week of livelong slumberous 
 days she passed, stretched prone in a long willow 
 chair set in the deep porch, whose high roof fat 
 Corinthian columns upbore. On afternoons, when 
 sunrays commenced to slant, she wandered down 
 across the bridge and up the long village street, 
 at her heels two dogs, descendants of those friends 
 who had been the companions of the rambles of 
 her youth. 
 
 263
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She passed the ruined forge, whereat Chris 
 Ruggles father had wrought so long, and she re 
 called the great figure of the man, his leathern 
 apron, the muscles of his arms, and his good, sad, 
 kindly face. How often he had ceased his blows 
 to talk to her about his boy at college, while the 
 water had made furrows in the grime upon his 
 cheeks. 
 
 Also she smiled each day to see the Senator 
 affect the farmer. It was a delicious pastoral com 
 edy. He fell into the agricultural dialect and 
 drawl and essayed bucolic figures of speech, which 
 he illustrated with uncouth gestures. She beheld 
 him, mornings, tramping off through the dews in 
 his cowhide boots, and, twilights, hanging on the 
 pasture bars, deep in the confidences of the hired 
 man. She was convinced that, had it not been 
 for the mails and the visits of the politicians, he 
 would have taken rod and reel and surreptitiously 
 escaped for whole days down the river. 
 
 Father and daughter, that silent week, renewed 
 their earlier intimacy, reviving, in a sense, the 
 summers of long ago, when they had lived and 
 played and studied side by side in the old home 
 stead. 
 
 Then she had been known from the Ohio to 
 the Lake as " the Senator s little girl," and senti 
 mental people from many counties wrote her 
 father asking for her photograph. Moreover, he 
 
 264
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 had taken her much about with him up and down 
 the state, wherever he went to make a speech. The 
 politicians all had petted her, and she had perched 
 upon the knee of many a pilgrim who had jour 
 neyed to Primrose Hill to advise with Senator 
 Dawes and to secure his influence. 
 
 Thus she had first known Randolph Ransom, 
 when she was still a slip of a girl of twelve and 
 he a young politician of but twenty-two. He had 
 adored, straightway, the dark-eyed, gracious- 
 spoken child, his fancy taken with her quick brain, 
 her tolerant air and imperious assertion. Even 
 then, she now remembered, he was unhappy, with 
 the poignant, egotistical unhappiness of ardent 
 youth. He seemed to have found out early, or 
 always to have known, that life held no reality to 
 justify grandiose dreams, and out of a fit of spleen, 
 to "euchre " life perhaps, he concentrated on 
 Mademoiselle, as he called her, the intense, un 
 acknowledged poetry of his haughty, ironical soul. 
 How she had assumed control of him from the 
 start, " bossed " him, laughed at him, visited ca 
 pricious moods upon him, harassed his heart, to 
 reward him well with one delicious golden hour 
 of childish, prattling confidence, and arch, elusive 
 fondness. 
 
 This great friendship grew, until, when she 
 was twenty and he thirty, Ransom had become 
 avowedly her lover, and she had admitted in her 
 
 265
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 heart that some day she might possibly be his wife. 
 If the Senator perceived the situation, he wisely 
 pretended to be blind; but he esteemed Ransom 
 highly, and often told his daughter that the young 
 man was the " smartest " politician, for his years, 
 in Illinois. 
 
 She knew now that, had she not married Walter 
 Corlis, she would have married that first friend 
 of hers. And, since she had again seen him in 
 the Convention, after many years, the idle specu 
 lation of her brain, when she had nothing else to 
 do, had been busy with him. She vaguely won 
 dered, romantically, as women will* if he realized 
 how near she had been to consenting to become 
 his wife, and she suspected it was for her sake he 
 had remained a bachelor. She acknowledged in 
 her inner mind, what as a younger woman she 
 would have indignantly denied, that \vhat had de 
 termined her to marry the man she did was the 
 fact that he stirred her passion. Perhaps, she 
 mused, Ransom had suffered by reason of a too 
 great reverence, and had failed because he had not 
 tried a storm. 
 
 Senator Dawes announced, one morning, that 
 he had heard from Governor Ransom. 
 
 " I expect he ll be here to-night, Vicky, in time 
 for dinner. And I don t think I need remind 
 you " the Senator looked sly and droll " that 
 if, from some points of view, the Governor stands 
 
 266
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 as a rank demagogue, from a culinary standpoint 
 he is a most inveterate aristocrat. And it s neces 
 sary, you know, that we should do everything to 
 induce in him a delectable frame of mind." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis inquired how he had managed to 
 persuade the Governor to come. 
 
 " I wrote him," replied the Senator, " from 
 Chicago. I said I wanted to see him, and this is 
 his reply. He says that he would ask me down to 
 Springfield, but as Primrose Hill has fewer eyes 
 to be inquisitive, he invites himself up here, and I 
 suppose he is now on his way." 
 
 It was easier than you supposed to get him to 
 meet you," she observed. " He s not aware that 
 I am with you, of course ? " 
 
 u It s not likely; I don t see how he could 
 
 know." The Senator rubbed his hands, for he 
 
 was in excellent good humor. " Everything seems 
 
 to be disposed as it should be," he drawled on, 
 
 : " and we ought to be able to make him see reason, 
 
 I think. Randolph, I m sure, has a real regard 
 
 ifor me, and I d risk a guess he has not forgotten 
 
 you." 
 
 He cast his old eyes up; he knew his world so 
 surprisingly well, did the Senator, that sometimes 
 evidence of the fact astonished even his daughter. 
 
 " And now we ve got him here, we must not let 
 him go unimpressed," he playfully admonished. 
 " We elect or defeat ourselves in the next few 
 
 267
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 hours, right here, my child. Why," he declared, 
 enthusiastically, " once Ransom promises us he 
 will let sleeping dogs lie, we can bottle up Egypt 
 all by itself and slip the whole program through 
 without a squeak." 
 
 His words, his manner, served to provoke in 
 her a dislike of her mission, which led her to re 
 mark, 
 
 " But after that speech of his in the Conven 
 tion, Pater, I hardly see how you can expect to 
 persuade him. He cannot with consistence remain 
 quiet, can he." 
 
 " Oh, Ransom is an inconsistent dog," rejoined 
 the Senator. " He is as often controlled by his 
 passions, his hatreds, and his friendships, as he is 
 by his logic or his interests or principles. I d say 
 he was a gambler, only, while he plays to win, he 
 doesn t care much if he loses. My hope is to hold 
 him by his friendship for me, by making him 
 realize my exigency. And I rely a good deal upon 
 what you can do, Vicky." 
 
 His reliance, amounting practically to a de 
 mand, excited her to almost a resentment, illogi- 
 cally enough, considering the motive which had 
 brought her to Primrose Hill. But that feeling 
 she carefully concealed from her father s eyes. 
 
 The Governor arrived late that afternoon; it 
 was a Saturday. Mrs. Corlis, standing at a win 
 dow upstairs, unseen, witnessed the meeting be- 
 
 268
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 tween the two men. Governor Ransom sprang 
 from the carriage which had been sent to fetch 
 him from the station. Senator Dawes had come 
 out upon the front steps to bid him welcome. 
 
 "By God, Senator, how are you?" exclaimed 
 Ransom, as he grasped the former s hand. 
 
 li Randolph, my boy, I am glad to see you 
 here," Senator Dawes declared, putting an arm 
 around his guest. 
 
 " Good; we ll have a high old time, Uncle 
 Simeon a regular riotous, reckless time, I reckon. 
 I ve brought along a few new stones to swap for 
 your old ones over our toddy, and you ve got to 
 show me the farm and your stock." He stopped 
 on the steps to turn and look about. " God, how 
 green it is, and this air is wine which reminds 
 me," he added whimsically, " that what I most 
 want s a drink. Now, if you were like me, Sen 
 ator, you d have a crowd of good fellows up here 
 right along be a great place to play poker in." 
 
 " Come in, come in, Randolph, my boy, and 
 don t suggest frivolities. I belong to a staid 
 generation, remember, one that didn t go to the 
 dogs." 
 
 " Dogs, speaking of dogs," cried Ransom, 
 " haven t you got any nowadays about the place? 
 I recollect years ago your daughter used to be 
 fond of dogs I gave her a pup once myself." 
 
 269
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 The Governor looked a bit waggish and then a 
 bit shamefaced. 
 
 :< Well," said the Senator, " you know she is 
 here with me Mrs. Corlis, I mean. She is very 
 anxious to see you again." 
 
 Ransom drew back. 
 
 You don t say so. I didn t know that, or 
 I d . Well, go ahead in. What s she like? I 
 haven t seen her, not in years. By God, a funny 
 world, Senator! I ll have to take a reef in my 
 manners, I reckon." 
 
 25^0
 
 XXIX 
 
 FOR WHOSE SAKE 
 
 THE man s years of hard living were written 
 in his face his years of gaming, drink 
 ing, swearing, scheming. There was a 
 touch of swagger to his bearing and much in his 
 manner of boisterous good-fellowship, alternat 
 ing, as it were, with seconds of a grim saturninity. 
 He evinced, in fine, the effect of exclusive com 
 panionship with men, all sorts of them, as well as 
 of the banishment of women from his life. 
 
 But a subtle change half rectified the impression 
 he produced, the moment his eyes rested upon 
 Mrs. Corlis. She greeted him with a cordial 
 smile and a frank hand-shake, while he bowed be 
 fore her in some semblance of his old-time, half- 
 forgotten Kentucky gallantry. She appeared a 
 gracious figure, no doubt, to his famished eyes, 
 significant of all that he had lost. The white hair 
 was unfamiliar; but the height of her, the dark 
 and sympathetic eyes, marked the woman as they 
 had marked the girl. 
 
 The Governor sweetened or grew urbane, more 
 over, in the continued contact of her amenity. As 
 
 271 
 
 18
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 her entrance had sufficed to endow him with dig 
 nity, so her presence, her glance, her speech, un 
 folded gradually his almost forgotten qualities of 
 charm and grace and fine consideration. The hu 
 morously cynical countenance that commonly he 
 used for mask was insensibly displaced by a 
 transparent nobility of expression, proof of the 
 finer emotions she inspired. In fact, miraculously 
 quick, she had contrived to rub the rust of rancors 
 and disillusions off, so that something of the origi 
 nal geniality of him shone through. 
 
 This process consumed the dinner time, and 
 quite likely the excellence of the food and the 
 quality of the wines supplemented the spiritual 
 argument. Mrs. Corlis understood how to make 
 the conquest of a man. 
 
 The talk ran naturally upon old associations. 
 The Governor recalled amusing episodes, and she 
 let him see that she remembered even more than 
 them. She admitted him without formality to 
 that intimacy which had been characteristic of 
 their friendship before discordant passions had 
 put an end to it. 
 
 And she was inexpressibly winning thus; so 
 free a comradeship informed her manner, such a 
 disposition for even give-and-take, with a slight 
 ing implication upon her privilege as a woman 
 these externals. Then to the intercourse she 
 
 272
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 brought a knowledge diplomats might have envied 
 her, a worldly experience, garnered in years of 
 social striving and social achievement, a consum 
 mate tact and a rare flattery, plus, as a flux to 
 blend them pleasantly, an amused sympathy with 
 men and humorous toleration of their weaknesses, 
 such as among good women, those distinguished 
 by some masculine grasp of mind, alone can have. 
 
 The two men smoked in the porch after dinner 
 smoked, and eyed the sunset and the fading of 
 the gold and crimson into the grayness of twilight. 
 The felicity affected Ransom; that strenuous 
 swashbuckler had not for years felt his nerves so 
 much in tune. He recognized the cause; the har 
 mony proceeded from the mitigating presence of 
 what he styled, in old-time, stilted parlance, " a 
 refined and high-bred lady." It possessed an ele 
 gance which mere money could not buy, or any 
 man create; it produced content and satisfied the 
 sense for music; it made mere living good. 
 
 He leaned back in his chair and felt these 
 things, listening to her clear, low voice, while the 
 thickening dusk made of them three opaque 
 shadows. 
 
 Presently the Senator arose, tossed his cigar into 
 the grass and passed into the house, saying as he 
 went : 
 
 " When you ve finished, Randolph, come into 
 
 273
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 the library and we ll discuss awhile. Meantime, 
 you and Mrs. Corlis have your talk out." 
 
 The Governor smoked in silence for awhile, 
 until the fiery point of his cigar remained, in the 
 completed darkness, the only evidence of him. 
 Mrs. Corlis talked at that. 
 
 She referred indirectly to her father s friend 
 ship for him, and then remarked how often the 
 Senator talked of his career. She ended, 
 
 " Indeed, Governor Ransom, I do not know 
 but that his anxiety about you the last six months 
 has occupied him even more than his own worries. 
 He has cherished the hope, until it has grown ex 
 ceedingly dear to him, that you were to be his 
 political heir. He discovered you, he claims, and 
 you have been associated with his mind more inti 
 mately than has any one. Oh, believe me, it is a 
 great grief to him that at this eleventh hour you 
 and he should part." 
 
 He made no reply for a moment. Then, to 
 judge from his voice, it was with an effort at light 
 ness. 
 
 " Pshaw, we are still the best of friends, the 
 Senator and I. A little matter, such as this of 
 silver, Mrs. Corlis, may part us in opinion, but it 
 cannot affect our personal relations. As it is, I do 
 assure you, it has cost me a wrench to get myself 
 up and to go it alone, after the years we have 
 
 274
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 worked in harness together. The Senator, I 
 reckon, credits me with that." 
 
 " He does you full justice, I am sure, Governor 
 Ransom," she rejoined. " But I must tell you he 
 feels the desertions so keenly these latter days. 
 For he is old and diminishing in usefulness, per 
 haps, and followers are looking for the rising sun; 
 your old stanch alliance and long, long under 
 standing, renewed, would restore his equanimity, 
 I know, and he could then view with the philoso 
 phy he now lacks the defections and betrayals 
 which rend his heart." 
 
 " Our old alliance, Mrs. Corlis, is impossi 
 ble," Ransom answered, promptly, as if he de 
 sired at once to disabuse her mind of any such 
 hope. He continued, as if to make what amends 
 he could: " But you are aware how kindly are 
 my feelings toward him; indeed, I think your 
 father is the one real friend I have had in a life 
 time." 
 
 I know that, and I know, too, what, has been 
 your loyalty to friends, even to half friends, Gov 
 ernor Ransom." 
 
 An emotional note colored her voice the note 
 of suppressed appeal to his better nature for his 
 aid. 
 
 ;< I know, who should know better," she re 
 peated, " what a knight you are at heart, Ran 
 dolph Ransom! " 
 
 275
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Seconds of utter silence in the dark intervened. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I m a regular ramping Don Quixote 
 de la Mancha, I am," he snorted, impatient of the 
 sentimentality she evoked, and of that which she 
 would fain attribute to him. He heard her 
 breathe, he divined how painful was her hurt, and 
 proceeded to explain, 
 
 You, of all women, need not be told what 
 politics are, Mrs. Corlis, and you understand what 
 has brought about this break. But I still respect 
 your father and we remain friends, I reckon. If 
 you had been at the Convention you would have 
 observed that in my speech and it was bitter, I ll 
 own up I said not one single word about the 
 Senator that his warmest friend could take excep 
 tion to." 
 
 " I was there," she hastened to state. " I heard 
 you, Governor Ransom. I could not approve, of 
 course, but it was it was magnificent ! " 
 
 " D ! my cigar s out pardon me." 
 
 He struck a match and deliberately applied it 
 to the end of a fresh cigar. The flame lit up his 
 face. She saw the hard, shrewd lineaments before 
 he dropped the brand. He moved restlessly in 
 his chair and laughed ironically. 
 
 " I might as well make a clean breast of it, I 
 reckon, since, it appears, you were there and heard 
 all my abuse." 
 
 276
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 "Yes?" said Mrs. Corlis. She flushed hotly 
 in the dark. 
 
 " I was mad, you see. Those fellows up there 
 in Chicago euchred me. They first kept me in 
 side the Convention hall by allowing me to con 
 struct the platform. Having me corraled, they 
 reckoned they could repudiate my planks by nomi 
 nating a man whose name, alone, assured a con 
 tradiction of every bimetallic utterance the plat 
 form contained you will excuse me, you always 
 liked plain speaking. They fooled me it was 
 mighty smart of them but it was unscrupulous, I 
 reckon." 
 
 " Perhaps they were but borrowing a leaf from 
 your own book, Governor Ransom," she parried, 
 humorously. " Napoleon taught his enemies the 
 art of war, did he not? " 
 
 " To be sure, the boot on your own foot never 
 did feel the same as when it was on the other fel 
 low s," he whimsically admitted. " But, anyhow, 
 they had me cinched. I could hardly bolt, I 
 reckon, for technically they had me dead to rights. 
 I had written the platform where did my kick 
 come in? I couldn t expect to be allowed to run 
 the whole shooting match. If I walked out, I 
 couldn t say it was for the sake of principle; it 
 would be clear as three aces over two pair it was 
 because the particular choice of the Convention 
 to head the ticket didn t suit my personal taste 
 
 277
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 which was too near the fact, I reckon, to be denied. 
 That s why I got mad because they had me 
 nailed down fast. Besides, I felt it would be just 
 as well to register my protest hard, so that if 
 there s any turn of the wheel to come, I will be 
 where I can get on and ride." 
 
 Then you do not mean to bolt? " she asked, 
 vast relief in her voice. 
 
 Wish I could," he answered. " I reckon I d 
 do it mighty quick if I could see a way to, Mrs. 
 Corlis. To tell the truth, that s why I am here 
 to see the Senator, to learn if I can or not. But 
 I m dreadfully afraid your father is well able to 
 give me the assurances I ll demand, and, if he 
 does, I ve got to remain in camp and take my 
 medicine. They euchred me, those Chicago fel 
 lows did me up brown, and I m in a ridiculous 
 hole, I reckon. The one saving clause to the 
 proposition is that under the circumstances it may 
 help the Senator some, and where I can, I always 
 want to see him through." 
 
 " I believe you, Governor Ransom." It was 
 said with faith. 
 
 He stood up. 
 
 " Now, I reckon I ll go talk to the Senator if 
 you ll excuse me, Mrs. Corlis. It has been a pre 
 cious treat to me to see you once more, and to talk 
 to you again." Sincerity next moment vanished 
 in the jest at his own expense " I ve got to go in 
 
 278
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 and find out whether the Senator can give me the 
 assurances I don t want, or whether I can de 
 cently refuse what he is compelled to give. Quite 
 mixed up, you see." 
 
 The night was warm and had waxed increas 
 ingly oppressive; she stayed in the porch a full 
 hour after the Governor had left her. 
 
 A long sigh of relief escaped her; for, after all, 
 she thought, it was circumstances and not the in 
 fluence she had brought to bear, which would de 
 termine the Governor. She was glad she was 
 superfluous. What had shamed her, as she had 
 urged on her old friend the claims of her father 
 to his forbearance, was the realization, suddenly 
 brought home to her consciousness, that she was 
 speaking not merely for her father s sake, but for 
 her husband s in behalf of the successful rival 
 of the man to whom she was addressing her plea. 
 
 She wondered now if the Governor s acuteness 
 had not detected her embarrassment; she sus 
 pected that it had, that he had had the grace to 
 be merciful to her, taking her words at their face 
 value, as for her father s sake alone. The chivalry 
 he would not confess was just like Randolph Ran 
 som. 
 
 Her cheeks flamed in the dark. Was she a 
 hypocrite or a devoted wife? she asked herself. It 
 made no difference as to what she was, that the 
 necessity for her persuasion had not appeared. 
 
 279
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She had come prepared to use persuasion, to as 
 sert that power over Ransom which she felt she 
 still possessed. Even now she still would use it, 
 it was probable, if expediency dictated its employ 
 ment. 
 
 She questioned: Had she not already caused 
 enough of ruin in his life? True, she could not, 
 in reason, be charged with the responsibility of his 
 tragedy or his career; yet, if he had suffered 
 under the violence of his passions, she it was, how 
 ever innocently, who had set them raging. Would 
 she lightly, then, move to do him further mis 
 chief, to seduce his mind, to vary his career, for 
 the benefit of the man she knew he hated hated 
 personally, as the robber who had stolen her from 
 him hated intellectually, as the type and repre 
 sentative of every political and commercial influ 
 ence he opposed? 
 
 Mrs. Corlis was not merciful to herself that 
 hour; possibly she was just. As a daughter she 
 might be justified in endeavoring to influence Ran 
 som; but as his rival s wife, was she? That was 
 her quandary. 
 
 She rolled the scruple out to utter thinness in 
 her mind, until, indeed, the tedious thing became 
 a flimsy rag. Then in a frenzy she stamped on it. 
 She did not know, she could not tell; she had the 
 practical masculine impatience of nice abstractions. 
 She felt, when all was said, that she served a 
 
 280
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 great man, that she sacrificed for him, that she 
 would do evil in his cause, even as for his ambi 
 tion she had given up her whole individuality, and 
 had surrendered self for his entertainment and his 
 pleasure. That devotion was the consecration of 
 her life, without it she was a wrecked woman, 
 disappointed, unhappy, ill. 
 
 She went upstairs to bed, and lay sleepless a 
 long time. Through the wide-open windows came 
 to her ears, distinctly, the argument between the 
 Senator and Governor in the library downstairs. 
 Her father s calm and modulated voice, the in 
 strument of his reason, her former lover s pierc 
 ing and uneven tones, sometimes fierce with a mo 
 mentary passion, for the most part bitterly humor 
 ous, the accent of a man who felt the world as 
 mean comedy and resented the conviction. 
 
 Senator Dawes argued like an astute logician, 
 demonstrating, in half a dozen ways, the fallacy 
 of Free Silver, and the peril in its threat to the 
 foundations of commercial prosperity. Governor 
 Ransom dealt with these proofs characteristically, 
 the demonstrations affecting him about as much as 
 water the proverbial duck s back. In rebuttal 
 he presented evidence of the strength of the senti 
 ment for Silver throughout southern Illinois, 
 which seemed, to his mind, to constitute an ade 
 quate reply. 
 
 He ignored the merits of the question it would 
 281
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 be invidious to assume he did not understand 
 them. What appealed to the politician was the 
 force, mustered or mustering, behind the Silver 
 movement. 
 
 " Why, Senator," he contended, " this isn t 
 local; it s a vanguard eddy of a national tide, I 
 reckon. Silver spreads like a contagion, and two 
 years from now it s bound to capture one or the 
 other of the national parties. The sole question, to 
 my way of thinking, is, which party it will choose 
 to make its victim. It s as certain as God s judg 
 ment that the coming national election will be 
 fought out on Silver for an issue. Now, what I 
 want to know is this, why shouldn t the aspiring 
 politician take advantage of the wave? We see 
 it, two years ahead, far out at sea, coming like a 
 race-horse. It will break things up some, I reckon, 
 when it hits the shore," 
 
 282
 
 XXX 
 
 AN ALLEGED DILEMMA 
 
 THE Sunday morning was idyllic; the cool 
 of dawn and dew was in the air. Over 
 head the blue vault deepened and in it, 
 stately ships, floated the steep clouds, white masses 
 now, but thunderous in promise. 
 
 The church bells in the village pulsed silvery 
 vibrations through the quiescent air; they touched 
 the pagan ear of Ransom, as he strolled across 
 the lawns, an unlit cigar between his working lips. 
 The beauty and insinuating peace nearly beguiled 
 him into weakness, or what to his mind constituted 
 weakness; for sentimental needs he held he had 
 dispensed with years ago, tender offices whose 
 suggestion he had terminated with the destruction 
 of his dream, rose in his heart and colored the 
 vision of his eyes. The unbelieving, restless 
 schemer, with his cynical estimate of life and his 
 pitying contempt for men, suffered a half-hour of 
 commonplace illusion and commonplace regret. 
 Not the vanity of the practical struggle the 
 sense of that was always mocking him but its 
 distastefulness, its ugliness, contrasted in his mind 
 with what the sweet refreshment and abiding sat- 
 
 283
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 isfaction of a simple life passed with books and 
 nature and the woman whom one loved, might 
 have been for him. 
 
 Senator Dawes, wearing a frock coat and 
 crowned with a silk hat, came out of the house. 
 He carried a black Bible under his arm, and, as 
 he crossed the lawn in the direction of his guest, 
 he drew on his gloves over his delicate, aristo 
 cratic hands. The Sabbatical austerity of his garb, 
 in harmony with his shaven lip, lent him the aspect 
 of the church elder. 
 
 " I m about to walk in to church, Governor," 
 he announced. " I guess there is no use inviting 
 you to come along. Mrs. Corlis, she s staying 
 home, too. By the looks of the sky, yonder, I 
 shouldn t be surprised if we d get a downpour be 
 fore meeting s over. Guess I ll just take an um- 
 brell to sort of make sure." 
 
 Ransom s gaze followed the old-fashioned fig 
 ure down the road, villageward. He was aware 
 that the Senator seldom troubled to attend church 
 in Washington; but neither politics nor company 
 could debar Uncle Simeon from a punctual ob 
 servance of all religious services here at home. 
 
 " How shiftily the old shuffler plays the cards," 
 reflected Ransom, his thin lips puckering cynically. 
 "Ought to follow suit myself, I reckon; but I 
 never could endure to be bored a moment over 
 what was absolutely necessary. Well, the Sen- 
 
 284
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ator s as slick as you find them; he fools himself 
 while he s fooling other people, and not only 
 other people, but he himself, have got a genuine 
 conviction that he is immaculate. What a pre 
 posterous world God Almighty saw fit to set up, 
 by Gosh!" 
 
 He swung completely on his heel outwardly to 
 mark his outlandish wonder and irreverence, and, 
 as he looked up, he spied Mrs. Corlis com 
 ing from the house out upon the lawn. A 
 soft, white morning gown, lace ornamented and 
 loosely disposed, concealed her wasted figure, and, 
 despite her gray hair, imparted to her a look of 
 youth. The illusion almost seized him this was 
 a pleasant morning, twenty years ago, and Vic 
 toria Dawes was summoning him to go for a walk 
 with her. But she was nearer now, and the thin 
 ness of her cheeks, the hollows of her eyes, which 
 the morning light revealed, dispelled the vision 
 and smote his heart instead. 
 
 Stepping forward he hailed her with a " Good 
 morning." Then the impulse to brighten her, at 
 any cost, mastered him. 
 
 " You were not down to breakfast, but the Sen 
 ator and I fixed it between us over the coffee and 
 eggs. Cheer up, he ll be reflected; I m going to 
 stay inside the breastworks and give him my sup 
 port." 
 
 A sudden radiance suffused her dullness. Was 
 
 285
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 that sufficient reward? he asked himself. He 
 hedged : 
 
 " Of course, there are conditions, certain con 
 ditions annexed. But he ll find them feasible " 
 he chased the recurring shadow from her face 
 " there won t be any question about that." 
 
 With a humorous and charming smile she put 
 forth her two hands. 
 
 You re a capital good fellow, Governor Ran 
 som, and I don t know how to thank you." 
 
 He liked the acknowledgment, but he drawled 
 deprecatingly, 
 
 " Not at all, oh, not at all. The Senator and 
 I have been in too many fights together for me to 
 fail him at this pinch. Though, I reckon, were 
 he out, I d secede mighty soon." 
 
 " And Silver? " she asked, inquisitively. 
 
 " Is postponed, adjourned but side-tracked 
 for good? don t you believe it! After we ve 
 shelved the Senator in Washington for another 
 six years, I m going to put on war-paint. It will 
 be Silver or Secession, a flat ultimatum." 
 
 The dark eyes flashed, though next moment de 
 fiance gave way to humor in the expression of the 
 face. 
 
 She smiled at him, almost tenderly. 
 
 " Ah, I m glad, then, that you have agreed to 
 tie your own hands until next winter. By that 
 time, when you are again free to act, Silver will be 
 
 286
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 dead, or dying, and you will have been saved de 
 spite yourself." 
 
 He bit his lip; perhaps he resented her as 
 sumption that the acceptance, on her part, of his 
 generosity would prove his own salvation. He 
 spoke dogmatically, 
 
 " Silver, in a year, will have matured as an 
 issue. Its future does not depend on politicians, 
 or upon who is Governor at Springfield. Silver 
 is a raging fever in the veins of the people it will 
 not be easily expelled." 
 
 She felt he was offended, although the cause 
 escaped her. 
 
 " I hold to my opinion," she said, with sweet 
 insistence. " So you may have one thing to thank 
 me for in years to come." 
 
 She looked archly wise. It was too much. 
 
 " Your complacence is not well considered," he 
 rejoined bitterly. " My self-denying ordinance 
 may help you; it isn t going to do me any good. 
 On the contrary, it ll come near killing me, I 
 reckon. My supineness will install a crowd at 
 Springfield for four years with whom I have no 
 affiliations and no sympathies. They will turn my 
 friends out everywhere, and erect a new machine 
 upon the ruins of my own. So you see," he 
 sneered, " you needn t be so self-congratulatory on 
 my account." 
 
 He hurt her, but she put the injury by. 
 287 
 
 19
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " You think you could not only defeat them 
 now, but help yourself, were you to repudiate the 
 platform, bolt the ticket? " she inquired curiously. 
 
 " I ought to call upon them to pledge them 
 selves to the Chicago platform, and, if they hesi 
 tated, to proclaim myself a better Republican than 
 they, and walk out," he answered bluntly. u It 
 would make me the Silver leader in Illinois." 
 
 Then why don t you do it? " she challenged, 
 in a generous flush, adding by way of caution 
 il only be sure, be sure! " 
 
 He walked a few steps to one side, then wheeled 
 abruptly and came back softly over the grass, his 
 countenance screwed up in a comical perplexity. 
 
 " I don t know why I don t," he drawled. 
 " Ordinarily I d be keen to take the leap, and 
 hang the risk. But " he looked sidelong at Mrs. 
 Corlis, perhaps to gauge the compass of her cred 
 ulity " but maybe it is because I d like to have 
 the Senator, since he takes this reelection so much 
 to heart, get the benefit of any doubt there seems 
 to be." He spoke slowly, and observed the least 
 change in her face. " Formally, I m bound; he 
 has given me the letter of assurances I demanded. 
 In reality that letter isn t worth the ink it s written 
 in, I reckon. The Senator believes it, right 
 enough, of course; but if that crowd he signs for 
 haven t fixed it up already, they re only waiting till 
 
 288
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 they get into office to be up to some corporation 
 deviltry or other." 
 
 He put his hands in his trousers pockets, let his 
 head fall forward, and lifted himself on his toes 
 repeatedly. He was length and leanness from 
 the delicately intellectual head to the thin, long 
 limbs. 
 
 " However," he continued, with one of his char 
 acteristic grins at his own expense, "I d have a 
 mighty hard time, I reckon, convincing the ordi 
 nary voter that my suspicions are correct. He 
 won t damn his party s ticket ahead of time, not 
 even with my word for it; he d say I was crazy. 
 Therefore, I reckon, generally speaking, Mrs. Cor- 
 lis, your crowd has got the drop on me. I can t 
 very well help keeping mum." 
 
 A growl of thunder came from the west and a 
 preliminary pattering of rain assailed the tree- 
 tops. The air was still motionless, but the clouds 
 were piling more and more menacingly, and in the 
 distance grain was waving and trees were tossing. 
 
 " I fancy we had better retreat into the house," 
 said Mrs. Corlis, and led the way herself, her 
 head drooping, and her eyes filled with specula 
 tion. 
 
 The Governor followed after, his lips pucker 
 ing. 
 
 " It was a good bluff," he thought, " or was 
 it all a bluff?" He himself, at that time, could 
 not have clearly told. 
 
 289
 
 XXXI 
 
 " I AM AN AMERICAN " 
 
 IN THE library, whither Mrs. Corlis returned, 
 after going through the house to see if the 
 windows were closed against the storm, the 
 gloorn increased. She seated herself in her 
 father s working chair, one forearm on his desk, 
 where her fingers played with a paper-knife, let 
 ting the blade slide one way and then another. 
 Governor Ransom sat half across the room, his 
 long legs curled impossibly underneath the chair 
 and his slim back bent nearly double. What was 
 clearly discernible, in the dim shaft of light enter 
 ing from the window, was the lined and nervous 
 face and the long, thin, wearied hands that clasped 
 his temples. 
 
 " But this Silver," she resumed, endeavoring to 
 ignore the tension of the electrified air, " tell me, 
 I d like to know, do you actually believe in it? 
 Granted that it may produce a struggle with half 
 the country, you, its zealous partisan, cannot fancy 
 it will finally succeed. Even should you, yourself, 
 become its prophet in the nation, the movement 
 might nominate you, it never could develop force 
 sufficient to carry you into the White House." 
 
 290
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " You re right, I reckon," he admitted, without 
 pause. " Though, for one, I am convinced it will 
 grow so strong that it will rend asunder the old 
 parties, or else revolutionize them. Across the 
 Mississippi broods a tempest which the East ig 
 nores. The East is an ostrich." 
 
 Uncontented, she resumed, 
 
 " But I am trying to discover what is your real 
 attitude. However far the movement may go, in 
 the end it must defeat you, must it not, since it 
 cannot succeed? " 
 
 " There would be a pretty struggle furnished, 
 meantime," he rejoined, a flash in his dark eyes. 
 
 " Yes, but the fight for the fight s sake purely," 
 she inquired, " would not compensate you for sure 
 downfall and permanent retirement? " 
 
 Why not?" The old perverse twist curled 
 his lips. 
 
 Suddenly he dropped his hands from his face, 
 sat bolt upright in his chair, and spoke out in a 
 reckless fashion, that, at least, provided his pent- 
 up self relief. 
 
 The fact is, Mrs. Corlis, I m in politics for 
 excitement. I don t sleep nights, not as much as 
 three hours, I reckon. I live on coffee and to 
 bacco. What s the odds ! There are more chances, 
 more strairi, more madness, more hopelessness, in 
 leading a lost cause, in defying and in damning r 
 
 291
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 than in just jumping into some sure-thing band 
 wagon and tooting along with the other toots." 
 
 They laughed together at the paradox, she rip- 
 plingly, he in dry, almost silent, fashion. But the 
 laughter hurt her. 
 
 " Sounds funny, I reckon," the Governor said 
 grimly; " but there s a whole lot of truth in what 
 I say." 
 
 She experienced impatience. 
 
 " But why must you think so futilely; why 
 must you insist upon antagonism at every point? " 
 she took him to task. " With your talents, your 
 genius for politics, if you hate the money power, 
 as you say, and dread the effect of corporations, 
 why do you not devote yourself rationally to the 
 extermination of corruption and the restoration of 
 pure government?" 
 
 " You women always think in black and white," 
 he snarled. " What you mean, I reckon, is you 
 want me to be a reformer. And what s a re 
 former? In politics he is what a prig is in so 
 ciety; he demands an impossible, dull purity, and 
 he has no instinct, even rudimentary, for the great 
 practical issues, which, as they arise, align the 
 parties and determine the destinies of the nation." 
 
 "Yet are we not wonderfully corrupt?" she 
 ventured, uncertainly. 
 
 " Men want corruption," he retorted, as if with 
 a sort of brutal delight in the truth. " Humph, I 
 
 292
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 never saw a reformer whose morality in office 
 equaled what he had before he got in. He, no 
 more than the practical politician, is proof against 
 the temptation of helping his friends. What re 
 formers really yearn for, is, not so much honesty, 
 as having fellow-gentlemen for rulers, instead of 
 coarse-mannered fellows. Yet, I reckon, in the 
 sight of God, as in that of the people, there ain t 
 a heap of difference between well-mannered fel 
 lows and coarse-mannered ones." And Ransom, 
 in the utter weariness of cynicism, relapsed into a 
 crouch again, and laid his cheeks in his hands. 
 
 The thunder shook the house and the rain 
 swirled almost horizontally in sheets. The Gov 
 ernor arose to close the windows. Mrs. Corlis 
 hardly noticed, so intent was she upon the realiza 
 tion of how hopeless was reply to a man in his 
 humor, or to the specious fallacies he advanced. 
 The rpom darkened yet more, and only the fre 
 quent lightning flashes lit it blindingly for sec 
 onds, showing the woman, still as a lay figure in 
 her chair, and Ransom striding restlessly about, 
 the tips of his fingers stuck in his hip pockets and 
 his chin dropped into his shirt. 
 
 The storm abated somewhat, though the room 
 did not lighten. 
 
 " But tell me," she bade, " is there no other 
 way out of it for you? Must you attach yourself 
 
 293
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 to a false issue and go down, inevitably, in a spec 
 tacular defeat? " 
 
 Ransom halted in his narrow walk. 
 
 * There is something more," he said, softly, 
 yet with a touch of grimness. " Silver may be an 
 illusion, may be this or that; but it furnishes a 
 good weapon. With it we will smite plutocracy, 
 this plebeian wealth that poses and struts and is 
 haughty. We will teach its pretentiousness a good 
 lesson take a fall out of it, as they say." 
 
 " Ah, that is the rub, then," she concluded, 
 finely scornful. ; I have learned at last. You re 
 sent this new superiority, because it overshadows 
 your own; you would have your kind king, in 
 stead of it." 
 
 In the half light she saw him straighten and 
 lift up his head. The taunt left him unstung; he 
 replied, loftily, 
 
 " I am a democrat by philosophy and by mor 
 ality. And I distrust caste, because the results of 
 caste are want of sympathy, ignorance of what 
 exists outside a class, and, hence, conscious or un 
 conscious injustice and cruelty. The South had 
 the true philosophy before the war; but its mis 
 fortune was to inherit, along with the doctrine of 
 Jefferson, the institution of slavery." 
 
 He desisted from his high philosophizing and 
 turned colloquial again and personal. 
 
 294
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Now, at the present, instead of slavery, it is- 
 you women who are spoiling democracy." 
 
 She retorted on the instant, 
 
 " I have heard, Governor, that it is you spoils 
 politicians who are responsible for just that." 
 Next moment she could have bitten her tongue 
 out was it the charged air that engendered 
 spleen ? 
 
 There came a green and yellow sheet of flame 
 that showed, demoniacally, the distorted face of 
 Ransom. Instantly followed the thunder, and 
 the solid house quaked. Then, in the contrasting 
 darkness, he said in a voice of suppressed passion, 
 
 You know who made me what I am, Mrs. 
 Corlis, and you are not the one to reproach me 
 for having used politics as some men use whisky 
 or cards. But," he paused, perhaps to restrain 
 himself " but, I may tell you that that influence, 
 your influence, or whatever malign presence it was 
 that worked for my destruction, is passed, or al 
 most passed. Thank God, I have gotten back to 
 my earliest ideals, those which I had when I was 
 a country boy. I am an American. This Silver 
 you deride furnishes the opportunity to demon 
 strate that I am such. Though it may sound like 
 cant to your aristocratic ear, it is the truth. What 
 America first stood for was equality of rights and 
 opportunities, and the uplifting as a poet of your 
 New England, not of mine, has said the uplift- 
 
 295
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ing of the manhood of the poor. Millionaires 
 threaten those ideals, aristocracy does, caste does, 
 snobbery does. I am enlisted on the people s side 
 in this fight, I reckon." 
 
 She was quivering; there was, then, as Vaguely 
 she had suspected, a spiritual meaning to the Silver 
 movement, as well as the literal issue. Ransom, 
 the soiled mercenary, was he preaching it? 
 
 " And women," she asked meekly, " you say 
 we women are spoiling democracy? " 
 
 Yes," he answered, savagely. " Most of you 
 are incarnate aristocrats; your primary instinct is 
 to show yourself superior to somebody else. You 
 are gulled perpetually, taken in by the ribbons, 
 the gauds, the pomps by what Burke called the 
 solemn plausibilities of this world. You voice 
 every pretension and absurdity; your ruling pas 
 sion is to be exclusive." 
 
 " Oh, 1 know I have been frivolous," she inter 
 rupted, " but, pray, what else have I done? " 
 
 She was painfully conscious how shortly re 
 moved from the ridiculous the position was, yet 
 she was genuinely contrite. 
 
 " Humph, I have no call to act as your con 
 fessor, Mrs. Corlis," he retorted brutally. 
 
 Spots glowed in both her cheeks, but she made 
 no protest; she felt it was her due. He strode 
 around the room again. 
 
 " All I say is, you women are building up in 
 296
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 every town of the United States, a structure called 
 Society, made of sordid money, but crusted over 
 with fantastic pretensions and cemented together 
 by imported prejudices. By God, it would be 
 side-splitting, if the consequences weren t so tragi 
 cal." 
 
 The clouds abruptly broke apart and a burst 
 of light flooded the room. The birds in the 
 branches became a twittering, joyful chorus, and 
 the thunder was faint in the far southeast. 
 
 She watched him from under puzzled brows, 
 watched him as only women watch, to estimate 
 the soul. Truly she realized it with a thankful 
 pang he was beyond her influence now. He had 
 attained some summit, though she might be uncer 
 tain what it was; she believed that, at last, he 
 had entered into sincerity. And her heart was 
 wrung for him; for she saw distinctly of what 
 that pile was composed, whereon he now stood, 
 not altogether firmly, but nevertheless, stood. 
 His passions, which had been so fierce; his de 
 nunciations, which had been so bitter; his loneli 
 ness, which had been lifelong; his tortures, of 
 that poignancy peculiar to intense, proud ego 
 tisms one and all were under him at last and he 
 was mounting. 
 
 " Think of it," Ransom mused aloud, " think 
 of it this great distinction of America, this sub- 
 
 297
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 lime ideal of the Republic, jeoparded by a horde 
 of ignorant parvenus and a rabble of vulgar 
 women I " 
 
 298
 
 T 
 
 XXXII 
 
 THE QUESTION LEFT WITH MRS. CORLIS 
 
 HE dinner, served at four o clock in order 
 
 to allow Governor Ransom to catch his 
 train, was a happy conclusion to the visit. 
 The air, sparkling with ozone after the storm, en 
 tered by the doors and open windows and affected 
 to gaiety the spirits of all of them. 
 
 There was no talk of politics at the table. The 
 Governor himself was genial and humorous, his 
 own mood cleared by his outburst. Senator 
 Dawes, highly pleased with the results of the con 
 ference, exhibited the sincere affection he cherished 
 in his heart for his former protege and lieutenant. 
 Mrs. Corlis, likewise, was engaging, rather sym 
 pathetically, however, than initiatively. But she 
 was rejoiced, because she felt that she had made 
 peace, at last, with Ransom, and because she was 
 assured that he was not doomed to evil. 
 
 The talk and the speech, also, were character 
 istic. While Mrs. Corlis evinced her usual tol 
 erance and masculinity, her accent and her idiom 
 were those of the Eastern great world. Her 
 father, here at his country home, had lapsed into 
 the provincial tongue, and gave to high themes a 
 
 299
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 bucolic flavoring. As for the Governor, his phrase 
 ology was his own, peculiarly composed of rem 
 nants of his native Kentucky dialect, of Western 
 colloquialisms, and of the slang of the day. 
 
 Both Senator and Governor were devoted to 
 the classics in the old-fashioned, appreciative, un 
 critical way. If a solace of the Senator s was the 
 reading of Homer and Virgil, that of the Governor 
 was the study of Euripides and Lucretius; they 
 united upon Horace. So, at the table, Latin epi 
 gram balanced Greek apothegm. 
 
 The Senator would say, 
 
 You recall this line of Virgil, don t you, Ran 
 dolph, my boy? " 
 
 And Ransom would reply, 
 
 " I reckon I do. How s this from The Medea? 
 Golly, they could write, those old ancients, 
 couldn t they? " 
 
 A light buggy behind a big-limbed horse, with 
 the stableman to drive it, stood at the front door, 
 to take the Governor six miles across country to 
 catch a train that would set him down in Spring 
 field by midnight. 
 
 Senator Dawes clasped the hand of the younger 
 man in both his own. 
 
 " Randolph, my boy, I thank you; you have 
 saved me. And if there s any nigger in the 
 wood-pile, you have my promise." 
 
 " My last word, Senator," Ransom replied, " I 
 300
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 am mighty glad we found a basis of agreement; 
 for I want to give you my support, personally, 
 every time I can." 
 
 He turned to Mrs. Corlis. 
 
 You will excuse my vehemence, I reckon." 
 The perverse lips quivered just a bit. " We are 
 friends?" 
 
 In reply she looked into his eyes steadily, her 
 soul in hers. 
 
 We women cannot always see as you men see ; 
 but from the bottom of my heart I believe in you, 
 Randolph Ransom." 
 
 He gave no answer save a single look. He 
 bowed to the Senator and stepped into the buggy. 
 At the turn among the trees he looked back, wav 
 ing his hat. Then Mrs. Corlis, watching wist 
 fully, saw him turn to the driver with a friendly 
 grin and offer him tobacco from a silver box. That 
 was Ransom exactly, she thought. 
 
 Later in the evening, while Mrs. Corlis lay 
 dreaming in the porch, the Senator joined her from 
 the library. 
 
 " It come out better than I expected, Vicky. 
 Of course, I felt that Ransom would do all he 
 could for me, and I saw that he was sorry for 
 the old back-number, that s what they call me, 
 nowadays. But he s so good a hater, Randolph 
 is, and it came out so strongly in the Convention, 
 
 301
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 that I was scared to death I couldn t do anything 
 with him." 
 
 "What has he agreed to, Pater?" she in 
 quired, absently, her real mind far away. " He 
 told me you and he had come to some sort of un 
 derstanding." 
 
 The Senator hummed and hawed a bit. 
 
 " Ransom has promised to stay out of the fight 
 and inside the party; that is, he ll sulk in his 
 tent take it out in sulking at the most. In return 
 he required me to assure him, which I did, that 
 there exists no corporation deal, or the like, be 
 hind your husband s nomination." 
 
 Her ear took in the form of words, which her 
 brain registered; but their significance, somehow, 
 appeared to her only weeks afterward, when cir 
 cumstances called them from the storage of her 
 memory. 
 
 The Senator rubbed his hands. 
 
 " Good news for us to take up to Chicago to 
 morrow with us, isn t it? It s calculated to re 
 lieve a few apprehensions, I guess. Your old 
 daddy, Vicky, is going to die in the Senate, sure 
 his obituaries will read Senator, not former- 
 Senator Simeon E. Dawes." 
 
 " I am so glad," she said and slipped a hand 
 into his. Quite a while afterwards she asked, 
 
 " Pater, do you think Governor Ransom really 
 sincere in his mania about Silver? " 
 
 302
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Senator Dawes considered. 
 
 " I will answer this way," he said at length. 
 " Ransom is past-master in practical politics, the 
 best of his kind, at least in Illinois. He forecasts 
 the future and then organizes to win. In all his 
 talk with me he did not so much as concern him 
 self with the arguments about the merits or the 
 fallacies of Free Silver. What absorbs his interest 
 is how the signs signify a rising tide for Silver 
 and how the conditions everywhere are ripe for 
 a great popular upheaval, with this question to the 
 fore." 
 
 "Singular, isn t it?" she remarked. 
 
 "Oh, Randolph is no statesman; but he is a 
 wonderful man, nevertheless. And he possesses 
 not only strong qualities, but virtues that are none 
 too common. He has loyalty and gratitude. He 
 believes, of course, in doing in Rome as the 
 Romans do, and generally he goes the Romans 
 one better to boot. And what he respects, I sup 
 pose, wouldn t supply a moral outfit for even Mc- 
 Bride. But he can stick to a friend in a way 
 that warms the heart to see, and his word is better 
 than any man s I know." Darkness veiled their 
 faces, so that the Senator ventured, " Sometimes 
 I have thought if Ransom had married a woman 
 of character and mind, he would have avoided a 
 good deal that prejudices his career." 
 
 Again, after a time, Mrs. Corlis inquired, 
 
 20 303
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " But, Pater, do you think that he may be right 
 and that we are actually on the brink of a political 
 overturning? " 
 
 "How should I know?" he replied, with a 
 suspicion of petulance. " I am an old man, con 
 cerned alone about getting sent back to Washing 
 ton. . Randolph is marvelously acute, and, it is 
 true, America is a very different proposition from 
 what it was when I was young. Can an old man 
 estimate new forces?" 
 
 After the Senator had returned to the library, 
 Mrs. Corlis remained, as she had done the night 
 before, a long time in the porch. She thought 
 of Ransom. She confessed the revelation of the 
 man s high endeavor had surprised her; yet, she 
 reflected, she ought not to have been surprised, 
 since he had always, in her experience, been actu 
 ated by better motives than he professed. 
 
 Did the revelation do nothing more than sur 
 prise her? Did it not inflict on her some shame? 
 The question intruded itself suddenly. If Ran 
 som were not the mere politician he was accredited 
 with being, was not her responsibility in influencing 
 his course and turning him aside, vastly altered? 
 To induce a spoilsman to postpone his personal 
 wrath, was one thing; to require a sincere man to 
 abandon his ideals for her sake, was another. 
 
 What Ransom s glance had told her was, " I 
 profess to subordinate my interests, or my passions, 
 
 304
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 to the friendship I bear your father; but in reality 
 it is because you ask it of me. And I understand 
 your motive for your father, yes, but also for 
 your husband." 
 
 Was she over-sensitive, or had she, indeed, read 
 that knowledge in his eyes? She was not sure. 
 She may have misread his eyes, or imputed to them 
 her own thought; but her knowledge of his nature 
 was more sure. It would be like him to disdain 
 to admit, even by a glance, that he was capable 
 of an act of such chivalry; nevertheless it would 
 be like him, also, to perform it. 
 
 The more she considered the matter, the more 
 she was convinced of its probability. For it was 
 not to be supposed that Ransom s perception had 
 failed to compass her entire motive. 
 
 305
 
 DEMOCRACY 
 
 THE next morning, two hours before the train 
 for Chicago went through, Mrs. Corlis 
 sallied out for a last walk with the dogs. 
 She went across the fields to a knoll that she knew. 
 When she had reached its summit, the country 
 side for many a mile lay stretched out beneath her 
 eye. It was the region in which her father s father 
 had first settled, where her father himself had 
 been born, while in the house just below most of 
 her own childhood had been spent. It was her 
 own land, indeed, and the land of the people 
 from whom she had inherited. 
 
 Her grandfather she had never seen, but her 
 father had told her so much, in detail, about him, 
 that the quaint personality was as familiar to her 
 as many that lived. He had been an itinerant 
 peddler of books and pamphlets, and, for all else 
 besides, a dreamer. He pushed his two-wheel 
 cart for years about the state, sleeping at the 
 farm-houses on his way, and discoursing a homely 
 philosophy to whoever consented to hear. He had 
 believed in simplicity and in the soul, in all men 
 and in democracy. And though his son had often 
 
 306
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 in his boyhood been " hard put to it for victuals 
 to put into his mouth," the memory of the father 
 was revered by that son. 
 
 As the latter was fond of observing to his 
 daughter, 
 
 " Your grandfather, Vicky, had the heart of a 
 child, the hardihood of a stoic and the mind of a 
 sage. He barely earned a living all his life, but 
 he was a great man in my estimation. When 
 men grow wise, they will seek for such a man, 
 and, when they find him, they will make him 
 ruler, as the Romans made Marcus Aurelius em 
 peror." 
 
 Standing on the knoll, that morning of June, 
 Mrs. Corlis thoughts reverted to that simple man. 
 Then followed musings on her own father s life : 
 Out of what lowliness he had arisen, what keen 
 struggles he had had, how his career exemplified 
 the possibilities America contains for any man. 
 
 Three generations her grandfather, her father, 
 and herself did they not illustrate the American 
 progression? And she was the thriftless lily 
 blooming at the height of that wholesome stem; 
 to produce her, simple working lives of use and 
 merit had been lived; but she passed, restlessly, 
 a luxurious existence, and possessed more wealth 
 and power than an English duchess. What an 
 unfolding in that short span! Was it develop 
 ment or degeneration? 
 
 307
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Was she a great lady in reality? Airs. Corlis 
 asked herself. Had she attained the feudal senti 
 ments to match the feudal station her money had 
 thrust upon her? Did she at heart believe that 
 the many were born to work for the few, and the 
 few to set for the many a fair copy of manners 
 and refinement, besides generally enjoying them 
 selves ? 
 
 She pressed the questions home relentlessly, as 
 if such speculation could ease heartache. She 
 asked in conclusion: Could she rationally sub 
 scribe to this latter-day doctrine, the imavowed 
 belief of the millionaires, the secret creed of her 
 own husband? To subscribe, would not that be 
 to repudiate her own, to admit the inferiority of 
 her own breed, to deny them the capacity for the 
 finer sentiments and superior qualities? Yet, if 
 such were the truth, how came it that she herself 
 was differentiated from the stock which had pro 
 duced her? Nay, to what were due her honors, 
 her precedence, her place? Why was she lauded 
 as an aristocrat and a distinguished personage? 
 Was it not the deference due the money and 
 achievements of her uncle and father that resulted 
 for her in so much homage and so much flattery? 
 Yet their strength, whose fruitage she enjoyed, 
 had been born of the common people, though 
 society affected to laud her select quality. 
 
 The great lady honored labor, in her soul she 
 308
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 honored it. Honor of labor was original in her 
 New England blood, and she reverted to her 
 primal faiths in these, her last days, when she 
 had clear sight. Money, adulation, the affectation 
 of her generation, the influence of a vain-glorious 
 mate, had conquered outwardly, given her the 
 semblance, especially at times, of a complete 
 worldliness. But Cromwellian blood ran in her 
 veins; the ideals of John Milton, those upon 
 which the New England of her fathers had been 
 builded, were of her inheritance. 
 
 As she looked, for the last time in her life, 
 across those familiar fields, Mrs. Corlis remem 
 bered yet again those words of Chris Ruggles as 
 to what constituted the heroic struggle how he 
 only was a knight who had borne arms in the 
 heat of common day and toiled his share in the 
 sordid struggle of the world to make a living. 
 None of her people, she fervently thanked God, 
 had been parasites, except herself. They had been 
 real, had been absorbed in the work and care and 
 pain which is the natural life of man, as contrasted 
 with that life she knew of the protected class, who 
 nurse the passions proudly and are blown with 
 swollen egotisms and blinded with the superstitions 
 of superiority. 
 
 And like a revelation, renewed with force, there 
 was borne in upon her the pathos and sublimity 
 of Democracy, the tragic beauty of the epic of the 
 People. 309
 
 XXXIV 
 
 THE State Central Committee, publicly in 
 charge of the Republican campaign, had its 
 headquarters in the Great Northern Hotel. 
 The Executive Committee of the State Central 
 Committee set up its headquarters a block away 
 in the Grand Pacific Hotel. The latter head 
 quarters were not so ostentatiously open to the 
 public as were the former. 
 
 The committees gave no evidence of being 
 " hard up," although to be in desperate need of 
 ready cash is characteristic of campaign committees 
 at the opening of hostilities. In fact, an opulent 
 atmosphere pervaded both headquarters, and even 
 warmed the adjacent halls. The committeemen 
 themselves wore sleek smiles, nor did they worry 
 any one with a narrative of their anxieties. Politi 
 cians who called, departed with a satisfied smile, 
 which order of smile reproduced itself and spread, 
 with surprising quickness, throughout the frater 
 nity all over the state. The word passed down 
 the line: Of "sinews of war" there was to be 
 no lack; some one s fat barrel was "on tap;" 
 " the boys " would be " made happy." The cam- 
 
 310
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 paign was to be none of your moral issues, waged 
 with palaver and at starvation wages; each " le 
 gitimate " requisition would be promptly honored 
 at headquarters, and no expense would be spared 
 to elect the ticket from top to bottom. 
 
 All over the state arose the sound of hammers 
 tapping rivets. The machine was being over 
 hauled and recoppered, and whoever could furnish 
 a modicum of skill in the business was promised 
 recognition after election; moreover, he got " good 
 money down " for " immediate expenses " plus 
 such a commission for himself as his conscience 
 or his prudence would allow him to deduct. Each 
 " worker " looked to it that his particular cog 
 was clean, ready to fit accurately into other cogs, 
 when the whole complexity should be set going. 
 " Clatter," it was declared, must be reduced to a 
 minimum by unstinted applications of "oil;" 
 joints, pistons, shafts, wheels within wheels, gear 
 of every kind, must be found capable of running 
 like an engine of velvet and steel. 
 
 For the powers had determined it was to be 
 a " silent " campaign. Smooth men were the men 
 wanted, smooth methods the sole ones to be em 
 ployed. Oratory was to be discredited, along 
 with brass-bands, barbecues, processions, and other 
 noise-provoking agencies. " Personal persuasion 
 personally applied " was the text preached to " the 
 workers." Dialogue always was to be preferred; 
 
 3"
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " button-hole " communications, " heart-to-heart " 
 talks, " green-back plastering," all quiet and ef- 
 fectua^ expedients were recommended by head 
 quarters, and put in practice by " the workers." 
 
 Another admonition : discussion must be avoid 
 ed. Let the Democrats do the talking. Answer 
 never a word. Their plethora of speech will defile 
 their own faces, as if they spat against the wind. 
 Their fury of vituperation must find no echo, 
 even, and consequently will sound hollow. Or 
 ganization pitted against fanatical enthusiasm; 
 mole-burrowing, against popular rant; mastery of 
 detail, against passionate appeal: such was the 
 authoritative program. 
 
 Who planned this method of campaign? Whose 
 barrel was on tap, from which flowed the oil, 
 plentifully, to render the machinery pliant and the 
 friction ml? Some said it was the head of Boss 
 McBride, whoever else s pocket-book it might be. 
 Other wise ones averred that if McBride were 
 " trying it on " the state the same way he had 
 " tried it on " the city, he would wake in Novem 
 ber " to find out his mistake." Yet many even 
 of these critics soon ceased to criticise and de 
 veloped fat smiles instead. 
 
 Behind the State Central Committee and even 
 behind the Executive Committee, who published 
 orders and filled requisitions, a final authority ex 
 isted. That fact the committees realized within 
 
 312
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 twenty- four hours after " opening up for busi 
 ness;" they shrewdly perceived that their func 
 tion in this campaign was limited to registering 
 the decrees of a secret committee. They suc 
 cumbed without a protest; in truth, they were 
 delighted. To secure a competent Czar who com 
 mands some one s money-bags, is the highest aspi 
 ration of the machine in a campaign an aspira 
 tion not always gratified. The unanimous yearn 
 ing is for a leader competent to conduct them into 
 Canaan. 
 
 The new method of campaign was well inaugu 
 rated by the time Senator Dawes and his daughter 
 returned from Primrose Hill. The word that 
 Ransom was " gagged " solidified the satisfaction 
 of Corlis and McBride; they agreed that success 
 was guaranteed now, and they were disposed to 
 resent the Senator s curiosity concerning the plans 
 for the fall. 
 
 " Before I go back to Washington," said he, 
 " I should like to be made acquainted with what 
 you expect of me in the active weeks of September 
 and October. Congress will not adjourn till the 
 middle of August, I m afraid, and I want to see 
 if I can get any vacation before I go on the 
 stump." 
 
 The request plainly irritated Corlis, but the 
 Senator persisted. He had claims, moreover, 
 which even his masterful son-in-law must respect. 
 
 313
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 It was he who had " managed " the obstreperous 
 Governor, and, if he insisted, he must be humored. 
 
 The Senator frankly stated his criticism of the 
 plan, when, in conference with Corlis and Mc- 
 Bride, it was submitted to his judgment. 
 
 " But we don t propose to allow the speakers 
 to emasculate our game," Corlis interrupted, with 
 a slight show of asperity. " Speakers can t make 
 the mistakes you speak of, if they don t speak." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked "Uncle 
 Simeon," amazedly. 
 
 Corlis shrugged his shoulders. The old man 
 drew himself up. 
 
 "I have been forty years in politics; I have 
 helped elect six governors, been elected twice my 
 self. I guess I can claim to know a little how it s 
 done. And I tell you," he brought down his 
 fist into the palm of his other hand " the people 
 expect to have the issues presented to them from 
 the platform as usual. They d think it almighty 
 queer, if they weren t." 
 
 " Oh," replied Corlis, with an amused and dep 
 recatory smile, " you ll find this is a campaign 
 of modern methods, Senator. We are reaching 
 the voters by print; we have plastered every acre 
 of the state with l literature. We find tracts and 
 documents do all the work, and do it silently. The 
 danger about too much speechmaking is that it 
 excites discussion instead of spreading conviction. 
 
 314
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 My idea is that oratory should be used in the very 
 last two weeks to confirm the enthusiasm previous 
 ly prepared by the methods we are using now. 
 Of course, Senator, you will be expected to make 
 four or five speeches, but not until October, I 
 should say." 
 
 The Senator had listened to this elucidation 
 without looking up; now he turned to McBride, 
 calmly omitting his son-in-law. 
 
 " Mr. McBride, I have no doubt of the wisdom 
 and efficiency of the committee, or of the com 
 prehensiveness of the plans you have arranged. 
 But there will be more to do. The Democrats 
 have declared for Free Silver and nominated a 
 popular German. If Governor Ransom has shown 
 himself amenable to the influence I could bring to 
 bear, all his friends have not, and they will not. 
 Organization is a good thing; literature is; so 
 is money; but talk, and plenty of it, will be im 
 perative this fall. I know what I am talking 
 about; I ve seen the developments of many a 
 campaign. You must prepare to face the De 
 mocracy upon the stump; you must answer their 
 speakers. You two don t deal in ideas you may 
 not think there s any danger in an idea but an 
 idea left to itself sprouts like an old potato in a 
 cellar. I cannot consent to let this campaign re 
 main entirely a still-hunt. Understand me, gentle- 
 
 315
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 He drew himself up to his full height and 
 threw back his head. He meant to impose his 
 dignity upon these practical men, as at times he 
 did on delegations and committees who visited him 
 in Washington. He looked, in a way, Webster- 
 Jan. 
 
 There s no use in getting grandiloquent," in 
 terposed Corlis, with polite disdain. " We ve ar 
 ranged to have you make six speeches, at least, in 
 upper Illinois, and, for my part, you can make 
 six more, if you like, anywhere you like." 
 
 Hereupon, to Corlis surprise, the Boss spoke 
 up. 
 
 " I m of one mind with the Senator, I m think- 
 in . What you say, sir, is sense." Little twists 
 of his vast body emphasized his temporary revolt. 
 " Corlis is all right; he s a first-class organizer, 
 and that s so. But he s a business man in politics 
 and he ain t had our experience, Senator. That s 
 why he don t recognize these here little fine points 
 in the game like we do, you and me, Senator. 
 What we want, Corlis, is the advice of a true 
 statesman as to how to run this here campaign, and 
 I plunk for what the Senator says he knows." 
 He snapped a big thumb and finger, if not literal 
 ly in his colleague s face, yet there in intent. " You 
 lay down what line of argument the people ll want 
 this fall, and we ll go by it, Senator, and you make 
 out your own itinerancy " he rolled forth the 
 
 316
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 grand word " and speak accordin to the dictates 
 of your own conscience. We ll stand for it, I ll 
 be damned if we won t." 
 
 Corlis was masterful, but he never expostulated. 
 He had learned, early in life, that there were 
 more ways than one to any end, but no way at 
 all if one s temper went. Being out-voted, he 
 acquiesced; but he resolved that his father-in-law s 
 appearance on the platform that fall would, never 
 theless, be no more than a perfunctory perform 
 ance. 
 
 Later he took occasion mildly to remonstrate 
 with McBride for humoring " the old gentleman s 
 obsolete prejudices." Said he, 
 
 The Senator is hopelessly behind the times; 
 his sole idea of political management is to argue. 
 But he is gradually finding out his dear peepul 
 are extinct, and that what practical men, like you 
 and I, are after is results, not vaudeville. Your 
 backing him only tends to get his senile obstinacy 
 up." 
 
 But again McBride surprised his colleague; 
 perhaps he surprised himself. 
 
 There s such a thing as a decent respect," he 
 rejoined. " The Senator was in politics when you 
 and me w r as kids. His opinion is worth hearin , 
 and I ain t a-goin to have his feelin s hurt." 
 
 "Turned sentimental, have you, McBride?" 
 Mr. Corlis smiled good-naturedly.
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 That s my bizness," growled the Boss. 
 Corlis knew when to refrain from irritating a 
 bear.
 
 XXXV 
 
 THE OLD INFLUENCE 
 
 IF I am not the, inventor of the use of lit 
 erature in a campaign, I am the man who 
 has developed its practical possibilities. In 
 fact, I have revolutionized the business of carrying 
 an election. McBride and your father s friends, 
 whom you had here to breakfast, you remember, 
 sneered at first, and would like to have opposed. 
 But I had my way. I generally have my way 
 without any bluster or commotion either and 
 they ve all come around to my methods now, ex 
 cept, perhaps, the Senator. Victoria, after I ve 
 won this first fight, when I am governor, my next 
 move, you will see, will be on Washington, where 
 I mean to drive a team of reformers and practical 
 politicians under the same yoke down Pennsylvania 
 Avenue. Would not our friend, Arthur Hillis Col 
 lar, and your admirer, Boss McBride, compose a 
 spanking team ? The lamb and the lion but they 
 shall not lie down, they shall pull together, and 
 pull me." 
 
 Thus Candidate Corlis, indulging his vanity in 
 the penetralia of his home, delivered himself to 
 his wife, vaunting how, while she was down at 
 
 319
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Primrose Hill, he had become in reality, though 
 not in name, his own manager. 
 
 The enthusiasm, however, with which his wife 
 was accustomed to respond, was absent in this in 
 stance. His failure to evoke it caused him aston 
 ishment and then chagrin. He felt left in the air, 
 so to speak. Therefore he remarked with asper 
 ity, 
 
 " Ordinary affairs seem to possess slight inter 
 est for you after Primrose Hill. No doubt you 
 experienced plenty of melodrama with your Gov 
 ernor." 
 
 " You are supercilious," she returned, gazing 
 at him with eyes from which the dream had not 
 totally departed. " It it is rather common to 
 be so is it not? " she added a bit loftily. 
 
 " You found Ransom not common, I suppose," 
 he sneered. " He played the hero like an actor, 
 and with his bombast and his attitudes succeeded 
 in imposing on your imagination, it appears. You 
 always were easy on the sentimental side, Vic 
 toria." 
 
 She looked across the dinner table at her hus 
 band s handsome, contemptuous countenance 
 looked down from the height of her mind. 
 
 " Governor Ransom is a very noble gentleman, * 
 she testified. 
 
 Mr. Corlis was infuriated. 
 320
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " An instance of early romanticism revived, 
 isn t it? " he scoffed. 
 
 "What?" she asked, so engrossed with her 
 own thought that a moment was required before 
 the words penetrated to her consciousness. She 
 arose majestically. " Your insinuation is unworthy 
 of you, Walter Corlis, and it does injustice to the 
 devotion my life has been to yours." 
 
 He bent his attention to his knife and fork, and 
 shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Oh, come down to earth, Victoria. You ve 
 been so high-pitched since you returned, that it s 
 a wonder you speak to me in anything short of 
 blank verse." 
 
 She swept from the room; but Mr. Corlis fin 
 ished dinner. Before he had done, however, 
 he adjudged himself a fool, telling himself he 
 had acted like a young man with nerves. 
 
 " Hang her mystic visions and her high-trag 
 edy airs," he swore in his mind; " they d irritate 
 a saint. And she s had em hard ever since she 
 came home. Humph, Ransom must have laid 
 himself out to be agreeable, damn him ! " 
 
 The upshot was that Mr. Corlis actually took 
 the pains to be jealous on his wife s account. It 
 was impossible for him to have felt jealousy for 
 her as a woman, but he was in the habit of monop 
 olizing her mind and he resented heatedly this 
 usurpation of some portion of it by another. 
 
 321
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Mrs. Corlis, by that grace of magnanimity she 
 had in such abundance, kept their next meeting 
 free even from the consciousness that there had 
 been so much as a misunderstanding. She went 
 even a step in his direction to make, amends she 
 allowed herself to be drawn back, or appear to 
 be drawn back, into the circle of his influence. 
 She accepted the effort he displayed to regain her 
 favor and to rekindle her interest. If a subtle 
 difference remained, if the old wistful, ill-sup 
 pressed appeal no longer inhabited the eyes she 
 turned to him, yet she still could manifest her 
 pleasure in his companionship, and could attest 
 her faith in the greatness of his destiny. 
 
 On his side, slighted egotism pricked him on 
 to the reconquest of her mind, and the evidence 
 that after all she remained so much to him, she 
 found dear. His superficial excellences were so 
 undoubted his superiority of body and his indi 
 vidual charm. He knew the world so well and 
 could be so diverting when he chose. To have 
 all these qualities engaged in the endeavor to please 
 her, to win her back, her vanity found delicious, 
 her woman s love found irresistible. 
 
 Gradually he converted her to his worship 
 again. Again he demonstrated to the intellect 
 with which in a man s sense she was endowed, 
 that after all his sort of a man, the man he was, 
 was the man of the time. He showed her his dom- 
 
 322
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 inance of the committees, his seizure of the whole 
 management of the campaign, his new grip upon 
 the party leadership. 
 
 He was much too clever to depreciate directly 
 the abilities of Governor Ransom. But, just as 
 formerly he had contrived to instil into her mind 
 a doubt of the intellectual stature and even of the 
 granitic integrity of the Senator, her father, so now 
 he succeeded in obscuring largely her newly dis 
 covered esteem of Ransom s quality. Mr. Corlis 
 was ever girding smartly at sentimentalists and 
 the oratorical temperament; he was continually 
 contrasting the leadership of the Napoleonic or 
 Bismarckian type with that of the character of 
 Gladstone or of Sumner. 
 
 Meantime Mrs. Corlis had resumed her secon 
 dary interests, interrupted by the sojourn at Prim 
 rose Hill, in both the McBrides and in Christopher 
 Ruggles. In accordance with the resolution she 
 had formed, she called every week upon Mrs. 
 McBride and seemed inclined to push the acquaint 
 ance into intimacy. Naturally, observers ascribed 
 the move to politics, but Gretchen herself knew 
 better. 
 
 Likewise Mrs. Corlis did what she could for 
 Ruggles. She invited him often to luncheon and 
 she assiduously drew out from him his views. 
 
 One day she said to him, 
 
 " Chris, I met Miss Hildegarde Brown at the 
 
 323
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 McBrides yesterday afternoon; I had not seen 
 her since the Convention time. She has a large 
 outlook, I fancy. She isn t consumed with the 
 pettiness of things like the most of us women 
 large interests concern her." 
 
 " She is concerned with them successfully too," 
 the reporter not a little proudly said. " She will 
 make twenty thousand dollars or more this year, 
 and though she is inclined to think it a disgrace to 
 be rich, she admits she ll have hard work avoiding 
 the disgrace before she dies." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis did not smile at what in Ruggles 
 was decided humor; she was intent upon her 
 point. 
 
 " Money will not suffice to make her happy, 
 Chris she needs more than money ; all we women, 
 who are true women, do. There s heart hunger 
 in her eyes. I want you, Chris, to marry her." 
 
 He reddened, gasped. 
 
 "I? Why I I can hardly take care of myself 
 as it is." 
 
 " She loves you, Chris." 
 
 " No, no, you can t know that! " 
 
 " Her face thirsts, Chris. She is not happy 
 with herself; her life, successful as it is, does not 
 suit her. You know, you must know, Chris, she 
 cares." 
 
 " She is my best friend on earth; she has helped 
 me more than anyone ever did," confessed Rug- 
 
 324
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 gles, in a burst. " When when I was hopeless, 
 she got me my place on The Pundit. She saved 
 me." 
 
 Then, Chris, for gratitude do what you alone 
 can do make her happy. Besides, it s not all 
 zeal in her behalf; for I should feel so safe about 
 you, if I knew she were your wife." 
 
 The consideration did not appeal favorably to 
 Ruggles. 
 
 You think it would be a wise move for an im 
 practicable dreamer like me. No doubt I should 
 be safer. It might be rather hard on her, though." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis relinquished that method of at 
 tack. 
 
 " It could not be bad for you, of course; but, 
 to tell the truth, Chris, it is not you I am thinking 
 of, so much as the poor girl herself. She is made 
 of splendid stuff, we know, and she ll not whimper; 
 but her face haunts me. I feel as if she lived with 
 loneliness as her familiar and that she loathed it. 
 
 " Suppose she does make twenty thousand to 
 your one; did you never think that a woman can 
 be wronged by her own wealth? " 
 
 That is the way an adventurer would reason," 
 excepted Ruggles. 
 
 " Chris, don t pose to yourself your worst 
 
 enemy would not suspect you of being one. That 
 
 would be ridiculous." She affected sharpness. 
 
 You know whether you love her, do you not? " 
 
 325
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 He hung a sheepish head. 
 
 " No, I can t say exactly that I do, Mrs. Cor- 
 lis." 
 
 Her missionary zeal was becoming rapidly 
 mixed with humorous appreciation. 
 
 " Chris, you are impossible," she exclaimed. 
 " Come, as the politicians say, get off the fence; 
 get down on one side or the other. Can you not 
 decide, for once, as any man with a tenth of your 
 mind could do? " 
 
 1 Indeed, I wish I could, Mrs. Corlis; that is 
 just exactly what I ve wanted to do all my life." 
 
 His serious concern was comical. 
 
 " Oh, Chris, do try, for once do try; it will 
 do you good, and relieve other people." She ad 
 monished her protege strictly, though she could 
 not help smiling. 
 
 The Boss had reached home the night before 
 to find Hildegarde Brown with his wife. The 
 first thing he learned from them w r as the marvelous 
 news that Mrs. Corlis had called that afternoon. 
 
 " And I was so glad," declared Gretchen, 
 " Card was here to see her; and how kind and 
 sweet she is." 
 
 ; Well, she can afford to be," said Card. 
 " There s nothing much to ruffle her temper, I 
 guess." 
 
 The Boss sent a shrewd glance in her direc 
 tion. 
 
 326
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 You ain t forgiven her yet for bein the mis 
 sus of Mr. Corlis, are you, Card? " he said. 
 
 " No, I m not, I might as well own up," Card 
 laughed, in her explosive way. 
 
 " She can t help him, Mrs. Corlis can t," 
 Gretchen pouted. " Suppose he is stuck-up Mrs. 
 Corlis ain t one bit so, Card." 
 
 " Oh, I m willing to do the woman justice," 
 Card rejoined. " Only I reserve my right not to 
 like her style." 
 
 " Certain," acquiesced McBride. " But Mrs. 
 Corlis, Card, is a fine lady all the same. Wife, 
 bring Card and me some beer. Card, sit down 
 at the table longside me and we ll indulge our 
 selves in a little talk." 
 
 Card proceeded to inquire of the Boss about the 
 progress of the campaign. 
 
 " Looks well, looks well," McBride replied. 
 " We re goin to slip the whole length of the 
 ticket through as easy as they fill a sausage out in 
 Packingtown unless " the Boss laid a finger 
 against his nose, " something unexpected trips us 
 up beforehand." 
 
 " Is Mr. Corlis as confident as you? " 
 
 " Dead certain sure too much so to suit me, 
 Card. I ve seen the tide turn tail at the end of the 
 last moment, after you d quit suspectin it entirely. 
 But Corlis, he won t listen, and the chances favor 
 his way of thinkin . The state ain t never been so 
 
 3 2 7
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 canvassed and platted out and nailed down, as 
 Corlis and me have done to it this time. But the 
 feller who can tell how a woman s goin to jump, 
 he s so cunnin , is the feller who can make money 
 on his election bets. I ain t that man." 
 
 " Mr. Corlis is making no mistakes, is he, Mc- 
 Bride?" 
 
 " Not that I m on to, Card. Corlis is a fine 
 manager all right, there ain t no denyin that; 
 but God Almighty s self has got no walkaway in 
 the election business, now I m tellin you." 
 
 " He ll win though, won t he he will be Gov 
 ernor? " she asked, as if challenging the Boss to 
 a denial. 
 
 " That ain t what s worrying me," confessed 
 McBride. " Let him. What I want to know is 
 how he s goin to feel towards me after he gets 
 set up at Springfield. Corlis is mighty smart, some 
 too much so to suit my taste entirely. There s 
 just one trouble with these smart fellers, I ve ob 
 served; generally they re certain sure the other 
 feller is a fool. That s where Corlis ll fall down, 
 if he s a-goin to." 
 
 " Why, is he giving himself airs over you any, 
 McBride?" 
 
 " Can hardly say that, Card. But there s a 
 mighty cold film in his eyes that I don t like en 
 tirely damn his eyes ! " suddenly burst out the 
 Boss half in a fury. " Corlis thinks he s got me 
 
 328
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 where the hair s short and that now I ve got to see 
 him through. But I ll show I ll show him, if he 
 tries to monkey with me and the organization. 
 He can t throw us in the air after the election, if 
 that s his game." 
 
 " Depend upon it, that is his game," asserted 
 Card. She spoke intensely. " Governor Corlis 
 won t know you down at Springfield any more 
 than he can help. The silk-stockings and the re 
 formers will be dear to him, not a city Boss with a 
 reputation, like you." 
 
 McBride s plethoric veins had swollen under 
 the instigation of the idea of such treachery; but 
 he controlled himself. One hand waved off Card. 
 
 " I won t listen to you ; you ll have me preju 
 diced entirely. I want to make sure for myself, 
 and you hate him, Card, I don t know why, but 
 you hate him fit to kill." 
 
 She flushed desperately and rose from the table. 
 
 " I must go, Gretchen," she said. She would 
 not stay to dinner or all night, as Mrs. McBride 
 entreated her to do. But at the door she called 
 back to the Boss, 
 
 " All the same, McBride, you aren t made up in 
 your own mind whether you want to see him gov 
 ernor or not." 
 
 " I ain t sure, that s right," replied the Boss. 
 " But sh ; just now he has me where the hair s 
 short, Corlis has. Here s hopin for a change." 
 
 329
 
 XXXVI 
 
 NO BETTER THAN HER WORLD 
 
 HILDEGARDE BROWN looked up from 
 the paper she had been considering. Two 
 vertical lines made clefts between her 
 brows and the chiseled lips drew keen and clear. 
 Her aquilinities seemed all accentuated, so that 
 what was not intelligence was will. The face was 
 a sword s edge. 
 
 Her gray eyes, through the wide window at her 
 side, Jooked across the broken uplands of roof and 
 wall, through which, at a depth, runs La Salle 
 street, the Wall Street of the West. It gave di 
 rection to her thoughts. 
 
 " I know well what you are," her mind ad 
 dressed the temples of finance. " You can t fool 
 me. I know all your tricks and lies, and that 
 there s hardly an honest man from end to end of 
 you. And I haven t much respect for you. All 
 you think of is results you re all American." 
 
 " But am I different? " she asked herself pres 
 ently. "Why should I be? The air I breathe 
 has circulated in your lungs, and what I am, 
 you ve made me. Why should I, indeed, be any 
 more scrupulous than I ve been taught? It don t 
 
 330
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 pay to be too nice; it only pays the other fellow, 
 the one that s looking for results. Skin or be 
 skinned, that is the law. It s up to me to choose." 
 
 She swung her chair half round, so that her 
 glance encountered the campaign lithograph 
 tacked upon the wall. She had had it put up to 
 please McBride and to mortify herself. The like 
 ness it displayed was entitled: " For Governor, 
 Walter H. D. Corlis of Cook." 
 
 She could not face it directly, but looked at it 
 askance between lids a little closed. She scrutin 
 ized it a long time, however, and the muscles of 
 her face hardened even more. If she had been 
 iron, now she became steel. 
 
 Yes, he is distinguished, even in that cheap 
 and gaudy process," she concluded. To look at 
 it, merely, would convince one that he is a great 
 man. But / know better; I know him too well. 
 He s spurious, only a clever devil." 
 
 She eyed the lithograph hostilely still awhile. 
 Then suddenly she wheeled around to her open, 
 desk. 
 
 " I ll do it, I swear I will; I ll fix him; hang 
 the scruples 1 Do you fight the devil with holy 
 water, or set a preacher to catch a thief? " 
 
 She rang the bell and an office boy came in. 
 
 " Telephone the Pundit office I want to see 
 Mr. Christopher Ruggles the moment he comes 
 in. Get a move on about it."
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 The campaign had not entered the period 
 dubbed " the home stretch " as yet, but that time 
 was opening just before the runners. Its stress 
 would test utterly the work of preparation by both 
 parties. Apparently the silent tactics of Corlis 
 and McBride had proved efficacious. If Silver 
 seethed down in Egypt, the commotion seemed 
 bottled up completely in that territory. Elsewhere 
 was little discussion and no enthusiasm. Governor 
 Ransom sat in the Executive Mansion in Spring 
 field, and since his memorable defiance of the Con 
 vention had not once opened his mouth. The 
 election seemed likely to go Republican by de 
 fault; W. H. D. Corlis seemed assured of becom 
 ing governor. He would not " sweep " the state 
 or excite much enthusiasm; but he bade fair to be 
 " put in " by a safe plurality, and a good game of 
 politics, such as politicians love, close, scientific, 
 and dealt beneath the table, would have been 
 played. 
 
 Card was of pure Yankee stock; thence her 
 composition of such opposites as nerves and steel. 
 Her forebears shared, no doubt, in that dubious 
 heritage, the far-famed conscience of New Eng 
 land; but she had sloughed off, at least, its sickly 
 parasites, cant and pharisaism. The West had 
 cradled her; Chicago had been her education; 
 her wits had been filed upon La Salle street, and 
 so had her scruples, too. She was courageous, no- 
 
 332
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ble, generous, and when her ends were not the 
 best, she thoroughly thought them so. But no 
 cheap sentimentalism hindered her making a good 
 fight, and as she was a loyal friend, so was she a 
 whole-hearted foe. In truth, she was nobly an 
 unconscious pagan in her way, nor had the slight 
 est breath of degeneration so much as tarnished 
 the brightness of her metal. 
 
 " Chris," she said, enthusiastically, with dilat 
 ing eyes, " sit down. It s something important. 
 How would you like a great scoop, the greatest 
 ever was, that ll make the town howl and set Illi 
 nois by the ears? " 
 
 " I d like it, of course," replied Ruggles, with 
 what violent animation may be expected of a man 
 all of whose enthusiasms are abstract. Tell me 
 what it is." 
 
 " Just this. Read this." She handed him some 
 typewritten sheets. " It s a copy. Read or don t, 
 as you choose. You don t need to. All you need 
 is just to take it to MacPherson and your fortune s 
 made, so far as The Pundit goes." 
 
 Ruggles glanced through the opening para 
 graph and his face lengthened. Then he shifted 
 the sheets hastily. 
 
 " Guess I ll read it," he muttered, and settled 
 himself. 
 
 Card watched him intently as he read, in order 
 
 333
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 to anticipate the effects of the revelation, if she 
 could. 
 
 At the end he looked up, nonplussed; there 
 was a mixture of amazement and incredulity in his 
 expression. 
 
 " I don t understand what you mean exactly," 
 he began, slowly. " Of course, I was aware that 
 something was going on in your office here, I ve 
 run across Mr. Corlis and the Boss here so often. 
 But," he struck the papers with the backs of his 
 fingers, " I had no idea of this. Is it really 
 true?" 
 
 Yes," she answered simply. She was still 
 watching his face. 
 
 He hesitated. 
 
 " Well, if it s so," he said, at last, " it s the 
 most criminal thing I ever heard of. Why, Card, 
 do you realize what it is? It s a scheme to rob the 
 city, to steal from the people, to secure for a song 
 the rights of generations yet unborn." 
 
 The indignation of a slow man was boiling up 
 in him; yet commonly he was too deeply fixed in 
 his own abstractions, or else too far disillusioned, 
 to be stirred up much. 
 
 " I thought you d see it so," commented Card, 
 drily, a little smile of satisfaction appearing 
 round her lips. " You see too, don t you, how we 
 can prevent it? It lies in our power; we can stop 
 the robbery." 
 
 334
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Gradual enlightenment dawned in Ruggles 
 eyes. 
 
 " Oh, I see," he said, and unconsciously his 
 voice chilled, " you want me to take these to the 
 editor." He shook the sheets in his hand. 
 
 " Of course you ll do it," challenged Card. "It 
 will be the greatest scoop for you the old Pun 
 dit ever had." 
 
 Ruggles was looking hard at her, in his turn. 
 
 "Card, do you mean it?" Amazement, not 
 suspicion, cried out in him. You haven t 
 thought how could you answer for it to Boss 
 McBride?" 
 
 Card killed the scruple with a smile. 
 
 " I wouldn t answer, you goose; I d just go 
 and get it done." 
 
 "You can t mean McBride wants it done?" 
 gasped Chris. " He hasn t secretly put you up to 
 it, has he? Why, Card, if this were published it 
 would rip up the state." 
 
 " I know it, and that s why it s going to be 
 done," explained Card, rather loftily. " I know 
 exactly what I m up to, and it s what I want. 
 Your story in The Pundit will start Governor 
 Ransom to his feet as if a bunch of fire-crackers 
 were being set off under him. It will about do up 
 Corlis. In fact, all that s wanted to make things 
 interesting s a bombshell, and I guess this thing 
 is it." 
 
 22 
 
 335
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Ruggles had some vague notion of how he 
 would like to allow himself to be carried off his 
 feet. The animation of her face, the blue fire of 
 her eyes, were beautiful. But it was his habit to 
 split hairs, to weigh nicely both intellectual and 
 moral grains. 
 
 " But Card," he dissented, " the question is not 
 what splendid effect it would produce, but whether 
 you have the right to produce it." 
 
 " Most grave and reverend seignior," mocked 
 Card. 
 
 Perforce he smiled, but persisted. 
 
 "That s it, nevertheless; you can t get round 
 it. It looks so queer. Has McBride authorized 
 you to spring this ? " 
 
 She was upon her restless feet. 
 
 " What business is that of yours, Chris? " she 
 blazed. " I give you a chance to make a stupen 
 dous scoop and you balk, you introduce your con 
 founded scruples." 
 
 " Oh, you know better, Card," he interposed. 
 " I only want you should see clearly what you pro 
 pose to do. I couldn t let you do for me, on my 
 account, what " 
 
 " It s not on your account, you goose." She 
 stamped a foot. " You re such a prig, Chris Rug 
 gles. Besides, it is not your business what I do 
 you re not the keeper of my conscience." 
 
 336
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Card," he exclaimed, reproachfully, and gave 
 her a look. 
 
 It shook her, but not from her purpose. 
 
 This isn t sentiment, it s business; so you ll 
 please cut the former out," she announced. " You 
 are given the opportunity, it s up to you. Don t 
 go behind the returns ! So will you, or won t you 
 that s the question? " 
 
 "But why do you want to do it?" Ruggles 
 strove. The McBrides are your best friends, 
 and, whatever the Boss may be, he is straight with 
 you." 
 
 " It s a case where my public duty overrides my 
 private obligations," jeered Card. 
 
 He looked up, expecting to behold the evil in 
 her face; instead he saw but intelligence, naked as 
 a blade. 
 
 " I ll tell you," suddenly she cried, answering 
 his look. " Do you see that campaign poster? 
 You see the picture, that cold-eyed devil ! Well, I 
 hate him, and I hate him ! And he will be gov 
 ernor unless he s stopped. And if he isn t stopped 
 right now, he may be anything, senator, president, 
 the top of all. And 7 can stop him; I have the 
 power; it s in these papers. Do you suppose I 
 hesitate, because it may prevent McBride from 
 stealing another million ? Well, not much ! Mc 
 Bride don t need tender treatment, he can take 
 
 337
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 care of himself. But that man there, I ll stop him 
 at any cost! He never shall be governor! " 
 
 Card towered over Chris like some tall, golden 
 shield-maiden. The hesitater felt her ascendency 
 and admired admired her audacity, her unscru- 
 pulousness and the Hamlet soul of him averred 
 that to be able so to act without feeling the op 
 pression of responsibility, but with the whole na 
 ture bearing upon one point, was life itself, was 
 individuality. 
 
 Yet, according to his nature, he demurred. 
 
 " I don t half like it, Card. I know this scheme 
 is one of fraud and plunder; but it s Jesuitical to 
 suppose the fact would justify us. The best way, 
 I m sure, is to leave evil-doers to come to their 
 own end; the punishment will fall, sooner or 
 later." 
 
 " Later, generally, - said Card. She laughed 
 out: "Oh, you are so droll, so old-fashioned, 
 Chris ! " Her mirth did not exclude a tenderness, 
 akin to a maternal condescension. Why, don t 
 you know that nowadays the wicked flourish like 
 green bay trees ? No, no, I am not going to entice 
 you to do evil, Chris ! I ll do it all by my lone 
 some. / // take these to MacPherson it will be 
 my own proper scoop. She sighed. 
 
 " Oh, Chris, if only there weren t any wolves, 
 then we could all of us be sheep. I wonder, some 
 times, that the good Lord didn t think of it, when 
 he was making up His world." 
 
 333
 
 XXXVII 
 
 COLLISION OF WILLS 
 
 RUGGLES had hardly gone when he ap 
 peared again in Card s private office. 
 
 She did not. look up from her work; but 
 her brows wrinkled humorously. 
 
 "What, more scruples, Chris?" 
 
 " Yes, Gard, I forgot there s Mis. Corlis." 
 
 Gard frowned. 
 
 " What of her? " she asked sharply. " Where 
 does she come in, I d like to know ? " 
 
 ; Why, it affects her," he explained, a bit meek 
 ly. " He s her husband, you know." 
 
 " Well, she ll just have to stand the conse 
 quences of being his wife, then, I guess." Gard 
 settled decisively into her chair. 
 
 " But, don t you see, Gard," Chris persisted, 
 " not only is Mr. Corlis involved, but Senator 
 Dawes is also. And I know her whole heart is set 
 upon her father s reelection." 
 
 " I can t help that," snapped Gard viciously. 
 " It s not my fault that she s mixed up in a bad 
 crowd." She bent resolutely to her desk. A mo 
 ment later she consented to explain : " Mrs. Cor 
 lis will have to stand it, that s all as I ve had to 
 stand things, or any other poor person." 
 
 339
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " But," excepted Ruggles, after a pause, " you 
 don t see what I mean." 
 
 Card swung in her chair and confronted him. 
 
 " What exactly, Chris, do you mean? " 
 
 " Well, you see," he began, fumbling his hat, 
 " she is my friend, she has been kind to me her 
 father helped me once when I was a young fel 
 low and I don t like to sit by and see them in 
 jured." 
 
 Tis hard on them," jeered Card, lines of 
 scorn around her mouth. " Of course, it don t 
 count that she happens to be the rich and fashion 
 able Mrs. Corlis that isn t what excites your so 
 licitude for her extremely delicate sensibilities at 
 all, oh no!" 
 
 Chris catechised his motives rigorously. 
 
 " I don t know," he confessed; " I hope not, 
 and I don t believe it does. Probably you ll be 
 surprised, when I say I think it is nearer compas 
 sion than anything else in me. Somehow, I hate 
 to have her hurt, and this will hurt her terribly. 
 She is unhappy, Card; I suspect she s been un 
 happy most of her life, and I m sorry for her." 
 
 i4 Mrs. Corlis! You pity her? " echoed Card, 
 incredulously. The notion seemed incomprehensi 
 ble. 
 
 " Yes, I do." He bore her inquisition stead 
 fastly. " I never pitied any one more." 
 
 She flushed fiercely. 
 
 340
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Why don t you pity me, if you ve got any 
 pitying to do? " 
 
 " Oh, Card, I d kneel to you," he said, rever 
 ently, impelled by almost a sense of guilt to make 
 her what poor amends he could. 
 
 She quivered as if the words had been a slap 
 across the cheek. 
 
 " If I d whine, I suppose you d pity me too, 
 she cried in a hot shame. Then as if in a wish to 
 prevent his answer and to suppress what she her 
 self had said, she resumed in haste, " All the 
 same, I can t understand why you should waste 
 silly sentiment on her. She s had everything to 
 repletion ever since she could breathe. I m sure I 
 wouldn t set out deliberately for the purpose of 
 stepping on her aristocratic toes, but I m free to 
 say that if incidentally they happen to get bruised, 
 it may do her good. Even Mrs. Corlis may find 
 out there are some things she can t have." 
 
 Ruggles felt the force of what she said; but, as 
 so often, what he considered a plain duty gripped 
 him. 
 
 " But, Card," he urged. 
 
 " But what? " she demanded. " What did you 
 come back here to tell me? There s something 
 more out with it ! " 
 
 " I believe I ought I ought to let her know," 
 said Chris, with difficulty. " She s my friend and 
 I promised to help her in any little thing I could 
 
 34i
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 this campaign. So I am convinced I ought to tell 
 her beforehand what you mean to do if you still 
 mean to." 
 
 Card fell back hopelessly into her chair, her 
 thin nostrils dilating. 
 
 " But where, Chris, if you have any, does your 
 obligation to me come in, if you please? " 
 
 The moralist did not flinch. 
 You are bent on what I cannot approve of, 
 Card." 
 
 She flushed again hotly and struck her fist on 
 the desk by her side. 
 
 " Let me tell you one thing, for good, right 
 now. You can t stop me, Chris; no power exists 
 that can stop me. Just regard that as certain." 
 
 He made no immediate reply, but sat and 
 thought. 
 
 Card watched the changes of his face. 
 
 " Oh," she cried, " let s quit quarreling. 
 What s a mere trifle, like a great difference of 
 opinion, between friends anyhow?" she laughed. 
 
 Ruggles rose to go. 
 
 " I m glad you see it that way," he said, rather 
 dolefully. 
 
 You don t imagine there s any other way I 
 could see it, do you? " she rejoined heartily. " Go 
 and tell your Mrs. Corlis, if you re going to. It 
 can t do any harm, it won t alter facts, and she ll 
 
 342
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 learn about it just a day sooner than the public, 
 that s all." 
 
 Nevertheless, her cheerfulness subsided the mo 
 ment he was gone. She sighed. 
 
 This separates us more than ever," she reflect 
 ed. " I knew it ahead; I was sure when I first 
 laid eyes on that swell. Her influence with him, 
 though she doesn t mean it, is sure death to mine." 
 
 The following morning Card stood in the outer 
 office, delivering instructions to one of her clerks. 
 It was about eleven o clock. The door opened to 
 admit a woman whose mere aspect sufficed to fix 
 the whole working force in a stare. 
 
 The lady was plainly dressed, yet her appear 
 ance on that business scene seemed as instantly in 
 congruous as the sudden advent had been of an 
 old-time French marquise. Every one knew who 
 she was, or, if they did not know, felt it. No one 
 in Chicago had that air, save one woman, Mrs. 
 W. H. D. Corlis. 
 
 The visitor advanced to Card. 
 
 "You are Miss Brown?" 
 
 The simplicity of the recognition was complete. 
 
 " Please walk into my office, Mrs. Corlis; I ll 
 follow." 
 
 Card stopped to say one word more to the 
 clerk. 
 
 She closed the door behind her with her back 
 
 343
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 and surreptitiously turned the key; she might 
 have a scene on her hands, for all she knew. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis stood well in the middle of the 
 room, and turned to front Card as the door 
 closed. For a moment she critically surveyed the 
 clear and edged face of the tall young woman. 
 She found that she could not smile easily under 
 that regard, which seemed to ask, tacitly yet in 
 cisively, what her business might be. 
 
 4 Thank you, I will not sit down," she began, 
 with a shade of embarrassment she had not been 
 asked to sit down. " I have but a moment, and I 
 fancy you must know for what I have come." 
 
 " I guess I can guess," said Card, with the com 
 plete dryness only possible to the undiluted Yan 
 kee stock. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis shivered just perceptibly; she di 
 vined the futility of her errand then and there. 
 
 " Mr. Christopher Ruggles," she commenced 
 anew, but found her auditor too contained to al 
 low her to proceed. 
 
 " I understand, Mrs. Corlis," Card volun 
 teered. "Now, what of it? " 
 
 The demand was implacable, but too natural to 
 impart offense. 
 
 Experienced Mrs. Corlis was taken aback. 
 
 " I I wished to beg of you, Miss Brown, not 
 to do it," she murmured, a shade confused. 
 
 " I m sorry I can t oblige you," replied Card, 
 
 344
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 in the most business-like of tones, " but you are 
 just a little too late. The Pundit has had the 
 news since late yesterday afternoon, and The Pun 
 dit never disgorges." 
 
 " Then you cannot recall it not at my urgent 
 request?" gasped the visitor, astonished, but not 
 yet quite realizing the invalidity of her preroga 
 tive in the present premises. 
 
 " But why should I excuse me, Mrs. Cor- 
 lis?" 
 
 The gray eyes looked a cool surprise. 
 
 " Indeed, I do not know why you should," the 
 older woman involuntarily admitted. " Unless " 
 she endeavored rather unsuccessfully to assume a 
 persuasive smile " unless you should consent to 
 do me, personally, a favor I shall never forget. 
 You are not, of course, you cannot be unaware of 
 what damage, what irretrievable damage, the pub 
 lication will cause us." 
 
 4 That is just the reason why I gave the thing 
 away," the inexplicable young woman announced 
 succinctly. 
 
 " But what, pray, can you have against me?" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Corlis in her amazement. " Your 
 object is not to ruin us, is it? " 
 
 Card answered with an ironical, and to her vis 
 itor an enigmatical smile. 
 
 " Suppose me animated by an abstract love of 
 justice. How about it then? " 
 
 345
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Mrs. Corlis was perplexed, but she recovered. 
 
 "Absurd!" she commented mildly; then 
 smiled her skepticism. We women never are, 
 Miss Brown." 
 
 " Yet maybe I have a sense of duty toward the 
 people of the state," Card countered. 
 
 " You have not, Miss Brown at least, not in 
 this case." The dark eyes held an amused chal 
 lenge. 
 
 Card in a moment fiercely answered it. 
 
 " No, I have not; you are right, Mrs. Corlis." 
 
 Some fine speculation in the visitor s scrutiny re 
 sulted from this declaration. She became con 
 ciliatory. 
 
 " It is not I whom you are hostile to. What is 
 it then? Perhaps I have been your friend more 
 than you quite understand. I ve praised you, I ve 
 forwarded your interests, I m sure." 
 
 "Who asked your help, I d like to know?" 
 Card blazed in a royal, white fury, divining in 
 what quarter aid had been lent. " Who wanted 
 good words from you? " 
 
 " I m sorry; I did not mean to presume," Mrs. 
 Corlis returned, the sincere heart of her sympa 
 thizing despite the insult of the outburst. You 
 see, I could not help admiring you, and, I don t 
 know why, but I have been sorry for you besides." 
 
 Card raged like a Saint Michael militant, her 
 wrath a glory. 
 
 346
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " See here, Mrs. Corlis, since you want to 
 know, I ll tell you why I sent it the thing to 
 The Pundit why I have killed your husband s 
 political future with a blow. / hate him!" 
 
 "Hate him? You?" 
 
 "II" 
 
 The masks which every face accumulates, 
 burned suddenly transparent in this intensity, and 
 dark eyes and gray eyes probed deeply into the 
 knowledges that each confessed. For a furious sec 
 ond no reticence existed between those two souls, 
 the defiant one scorning to withhold what the fore 
 boding other had divined. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis stepped back, half lifting an arm. 
 Her lips parted, her face grew strained. 
 
 " Oh," she moaned, and shut the horror from 
 her sight. " I am a little dizzy, I think," she said. 
 " Let me sit down." 
 
 Card set the chair and Mrs. Corlis sank upon 
 it. She looked crushed, but she did not give way. 
 She asked faintly for a glass of water. 
 
 Card brought it and, while Mrs. Corlis drank, 
 assured herself there was to be no scene. The 
 assurance allowed her to relent. 
 
 Relent? In truth, her compassion overflowed. 
 As she looked down on the broken woman and 
 witnessed her fortitude, Card understood why 
 Chris had pitied her; she forgot that Mrs. Corlis 
 
 347
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 was a " swell," and saw only the wasted face, the 
 strengthless figure, the poor, quivering hands. 
 
 You must have hated me from the first," said 
 Mrs. Corlis with a half smile, when presently she 
 relifted her eyes. " Funny; I thought it some 
 absurd jealousy on poor, dear Chris account." 
 
 " Never mind that," bade Card. " I was mean 
 to try to hurt you I didn t know I could be so 
 mean." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis saw the gulp in Card s throat and 
 the relaxing of the face. 
 
 " Ah, if you can be hard on others, you can be 
 harder on yourself. Why should I blame you? 
 You very strong people suffer so terribly; so per 
 haps it s right I should a little in my turn." 
 
 " That s what I used to wish," said Card, " but 
 I don t now." 
 
 " I do not blame you; it was natural." Mrs. 
 Corlis reached shyly to touch Card s hand. You 
 will let me call you Card? " she asked. 
 
 " I will," said Card vehemently. 
 
 " It is the right name for you," mused Mrs. 
 Corlis; " it expresses you." 
 
 " But what makes you so sweet to me? " Card 
 suddenly demanded, " when I have been so 
 bitter?" 
 
 Her unspoken question was: How can you 
 bring yourself to tolerate me, when you have 
 learned what shame I have been through? 
 
 348
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Mrs. Corlis looked comprehension. 
 
 "Ah, why should I not be kind?" she asked. 
 " What else is left for me to be? " 
 
 An ineffable compunction made beautiful the 
 face she had upturned to Card. 
 
 Next moment she was gathering her skirts with 
 an elaborate hand, preparing to rise. 
 
 " I must hasten; I ve a number of things to 
 do," she mentioned inconsequentially. 
 
 As she gained her feet by aid of Card s arm, 
 she was again altogether the great lady. She 
 moved to the door, which she tried and then un 
 locked. Before opening it she half turned. 
 
 " Good-by, Card," she said quite softly, a look 
 more of admiration than anything else in her dark 
 eyes. " Good-by," she repeated. " You ve stood 
 the test, Card while I " her voice broke a 
 trifle, " I ve not only been deceived; I ve failed. 
 And there s no time left me to repair what I would 
 like." 
 
 Card sprang forward with impulsive sympathy, 
 but Mrs. Corlis had closed the door. 
 
 349
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 MACPHERSON 
 
 I LIKE this, McBride," said Mr. Corlis half 
 amused, half displeased. " Here is a letter 
 from MacPherson of The Pundit. Wants to 
 see me, and will I call at his office this afternoon, 
 at the latest. These editors dispose of us as if we 
 were puppets to be moved at their pleasure; the 
 world performs, in their opinion, in order to sup 
 ply them copy. Why shouldn t he come after 
 me, is what I want to know? Am I at his beck 
 and call?" 
 
 " Humph, if I was you, I d drop round," the 
 Boss advised. You can just as well; it won t be 
 much trouble. Them editors ain t to be monkeyed 
 with durin campaigns." 
 
 Mr. Corlis showed some irritation. 
 This business of being a candidate, McBride, 
 resolves itself into becoming every one s ser 
 vant." 
 
 "Well, what d ye want?" muttered the Boss. 
 Thinkin you re goin to have the governorship 
 served up to you on a silver platter, was you? 
 You d better make it your bizness. I m tellin 
 you, to see MacPherson and be mighty smooth to 
 him." 
 
 350
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 The candidate hardly relished McBride s tone, 
 which, if new, was becoming frequent. He com 
 pressed his lips, however, and made no reply. 
 
 The Boss gave more advice. 
 
 " Mac must be up to something; he wouldn t 
 have sent for you, if he wasn t. Don t judge him 
 by his looks, Corlis, if he does look like a singed 
 cat. He looks easy, Mac does; but of the whole 
 force of them pen-drivin fellers, he is the feller 
 most onto his job." 
 
 Mr. Corlis mounted the two flights of narrow 
 wooden stairs that afforded ingress to the cramped 
 editorial rooms in the dumpy, red-brick, old build 
 ing, whence issued the Chicago Pundit, daily, to 
 be read by thousands upon thousands throughout 
 all the Central West. 
 
 Having thus gained the third and topmost 
 story, the candidate discovered through a wide- 
 open door, two bare rooms, carpetless, and pos 
 sessed generally of the aspect of an attic. Hard- 
 seated wooden chairs in the first room indicated 
 its use as a waiting room. Beyond, in the farther 
 room, the doorway appeared blocked by a flat, 
 scarred, unvarnished desk or table, whose top was 
 heaped with newspapers. Closer inspection had 
 revealed the floor of the room also littered and 
 strewn with newspapers, whose big, black titles 
 spelt the names of great cities, little cities, villages, 
 
 23
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 and counties in all quarters of the United States, 
 seemingly. 
 
 Behind the table, facing the door, without so 
 much, apparently, as the buffer of an office-boy 
 between him and the public, was perched upon a 
 high stool the controlling spirit of the institution 
 a little, weazened, shrunken, bald old man, who 
 clutched a newspaper in his small, claw-like hand. 
 The shriveled face, in which the small veins spread 
 a faint violet network, reminded Corlis of a frozen 
 apple on a leafless tree. Through spectacles that 
 bestrode his nose just above its terminating bulge, 
 the spinsterly old man followed down the printed 
 columns, reading newspapers the livelong day. 
 Reading newspapers was, indeed, his occupation; 
 he read any newspaper, read them all New York 
 organs, Podunk weeklies, Kansas agricultural 
 sheets any constituted grist for grinding in his 
 intellectual mill. He read haphazardly, as he 
 picked them up, and his brain cast into order what 
 his eyes took in without beginning and without 
 end. At home, evenings, in his bachelor apart 
 ments, he corrected his vision by the perusal of the 
 French classics, sipping many tumblers of hot 
 whisky and water the while. 
 
 The representative of millions of money, who 
 was Republican candidate for governor, stopped 
 in the first room in the expectation that the editor 
 
 352
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 would take notice of him. But the editor re 
 mained oblivious. 
 
 " Is the old cock deaf?" thought Mr. Corlis, 
 and advanced noisily across the threshold of the 
 sanctum sanctorum itself. 
 
 MacPherson wrinkled his eyes over the print, 
 but did not stir, though the invader touched and 
 jarred the table with his body. 
 
 Mr. Corlis felt his gorge rising; one of his 
 power was accustomed to obeisances, and irritably 
 noticed their absence. 
 
 " Ahem," he cleared his throat. " I am Mr. 
 Corlis." 
 
 He expected at least to see the editor give a 
 start. But the editor did not so much as lift his 
 eyes; he smiled serenely at the newspaper pages, 
 saying abstractedly, 
 
 " Ah, sit down, sit down. Find yourself a seat 
 don t mind the papers; sit on em." 
 
 " I ll stand," said Mr. Corlis haughtily. 
 
 The editorial eyelids lifted instantly, and the 
 little diamond-pointed eyes caused Mr. Corlis to 
 turn away his own cold orbs. 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Corlis," lisped the old man, signifi 
 cantly, " find a chair and draw close to me. I m 
 an aged gentleman with infirmities a touch of the 
 gout and you ll agree with me, before I get 
 through, that what you have to hear can be whis 
 pered none too privily." 
 
 353
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Mr. Corlis acquiesced. 
 
 " A candidate is a public servant, Mr. Mac- 
 Pherson," he smiled. 
 
 " Also general target," the editor amended 
 drily. 
 
 Mr. Corlis bowed condescendingly. He never 
 felt at ease or was properly gracious unless his 
 superiority was admitted. Its recognition he had 
 been sparring for since his entrance upon Mac- 
 Pherson. 
 
 The editor spoke impersonally. 
 
 " In the course of a campaign, Mr. Corlis, I 
 get hold of all sorts of charges against the candi 
 dates. Most of them go into the waste-basket; 
 but here s one I v/anted to have you say some 
 thing about, either in the way of refutation or 
 confutation or whatever you choose." 
 
 This is not an interview, Mr. Editor, as I 
 understand it?" inquired Mr. Corlis, with resent 
 ful caution. 
 
 " Certainly not; anything you may remark will 
 not go beyond this room. Please to glance at 
 these." 
 
 The editor handed his visitor some proofs, and 
 while the latter read, he watched, as if he were 
 more concerned to read what Mr. Corlis face be 
 trayed than to learn what Mr. Corlis tongue 
 would declare. 
 
 A spasm, just perceptible, flashed across the 
 
 354
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 features of the candidate before the countenance 
 was twisted into an inscrutable mask. Pallor re 
 mained, however, and it spread. He returned the 
 proofs with the cool impertinence, 
 
 " Pardon me, if this is not an interview, is it 
 blackmail?" 
 
 " No check, however large, can square it, if that 
 is what you mean, Mr. Corlis," replied MacPher- 
 son, quietly. 
 
 " How did you get it? " demanded the candi 
 date. 
 
 " It appears in to-morrow morning s Pundit" 
 the editor announced. 
 
 " Then why did you pur me to the trouble of 
 calling here? " The visitor looked truculent. 
 
 " Curiosity, only vulgar curiosity, Mr. Corlis, 
 I assure you," the old man sighed. " How a man 
 of your superiority would take it, that s what I 
 wanted to see." 
 
 Mr. Corlis set his square jaw; he governed 
 himself, or was it the practical exigency which 
 governed him? There was a definite point to be 
 secured. 
 
 " Mr. MacPherson, is there no possible way I 
 can keep that out of The Pundit? " 
 
 None that I am aware of, sir." 
 
 " What if I show you it is untrue wide of the 
 mark?" 
 
 355
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " I ve seen your handwriting, sir, and I have 
 other proofs." 
 
 The publication will damage my candidacy." 
 
 " That it will, sir." 
 
 You seem to have me palpably on the hip, 
 Mr. Editor." 
 
 The admission from so powerful a man might 
 flatter a salaried editor. 
 
 " I have, Mr. Corlis." 
 
 The editor was cool, perhaps contemptuous. 
 
 " Permit me a question, Mr. MacPherson. 
 Have you any personal animus against me? " 
 
 " Personalities do not affect The Pundit, sir. 
 That constitutes one reason why we are a power. 
 The Pundit publishes the truth without fear or 
 favor all the truth it can lay hands on, that it 
 can find, beg, steal or borrow. We do not lie, 
 either by omission or commission; it s the only 
 virtue upon which we pride ourselves." 
 
 Mr. Corlis showed impatience under this eluci 
 dation; abstract principles always bored him. 
 
 " Then there is no hope of our coming to 
 terms? " he concluded. 
 
 " None, sir. Nothing short of fire and flood 
 can keep the story out of to-morrow s edition." 
 
 Mr. Corlis looked the editor in the eye. No 
 flash illumined his own pale eyes nor was his voice 
 raised by half a tone; but the great veins in the 
 
 356
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 full neck swelled, and a brutal strength coarsened 
 the handsome face. 
 
 "You infernal old gutter-wallower ! You 
 damned scandal-monger! " 
 
 MacPherson chuckled; dared chuckle in the 
 teeth of the magnificence of that wrath. 
 
 The truth is not over-savory, I admit," he 
 squeaked, and rubbed his little hands, " and it 
 does soil one, some, to drag respectable corrup 
 tion into the light of day." He smiled his glee. 
 " I guess that ll hold you for a moment, won t it, 
 Mr. Corlis?" 
 
 The candidate was livid; but still he kept his 
 eye steady and his voice low. 
 
 " No decent man would speak to you on the 
 street, if he weren t afraid of your rotten yellow 
 sheet." 
 
 " Just so," smiled the editor, with the primness 
 of a New England old maid. Just so, so save 
 your breath. I m not respectable, never was, 
 never will be, wouldn t if I could. If there s one 
 thing I despise, next to a fool, it s respectability." 
 
 " Publish and be damned," growled Corlis. 
 " I ll see that the banks put the screws on you. 
 People all know what The Pundit is they never 
 believe what it says; it s a libelous, blackmailing 
 institution." 
 
 MacPherson had risen on the rounds of his 
 
 357
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 stool; his rage was grotesque. He shook his tiny 
 fist in his visitor s face and shrilled, 
 
 " Damn you, you lie, sir, you lie ! Call me any 
 thing you please I m an old duck, I m used to 
 it. Say The Pundit s sensational, that it s stupid; 
 but, sir, I ll let you know, sir, and know it al 
 mighty well, The Pundit never lies. You lie, 
 when you say so, sir; you lie in your throat! " 
 He glared at Corlis before he let himself down 
 upon his seat again. 
 
 Then he continued, still wrathfully, but with the 
 satisfaction one derives from a favorite theme, 
 
 The Pundit is no better than the world it mir 
 rors; we do not tolerate any idealizing around 
 here, sir. But, by God, we are the one thing in 
 this selfish, rotten, robberous, cheating, lustful, 
 honor-prostituting, devilishly human city, that 
 doesn t lie. Mebbe society can t be saved I 
 don t care much if it isn t. It ain t worth it. But 
 if truth s salvation, you can buy salvation in The 
 Pundit every morning for a cent and on a Sunday 
 for a nickel." 
 
 Under the infliction of this lecture Mr. Corlis 
 had had time to calculate. So truth was the old 
 man s foible no harm to try to humor it. 
 
 But MacPherson rounded on him instantane 
 ously. 
 
 "You flatter me, Mr. Corlis? You say you 
 are proud to meet an honest man? By God, 
 
 358
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 you re more offensive than before. No one but a 
 fool ever met an honest man I m not honest; I ve 
 got my price; I d sell my soul to get truth for 
 The Pundit. What, you think you can smear me 
 over with your flattery?" The diamond-pointed 
 eyes glittered like a snake s. " In other words, 
 you insult my intelligence that s too much, sir. 
 Wheedle me? Damn you, sir, get out of my of 
 fice ! " 
 
 359
 
 M 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 EXPOSURE 
 
 R. CORLIS emerged from The Pundit 
 stairway upon the street. He was un 
 ruffled; he possessed, naturally, the self- 
 control of the gambler and was wont to play the 
 chances on human nature and on the turns of pas 
 sion as he did on the futures of stocks. Usually, 
 however, his fortune in life had provided him 
 with " tips." His inner equanimity, therefore, 
 under the present unexpected reverse, hardly 
 matched his outwardly collected mein. 
 
 He got into a cab, directing it to McMahon s 
 saloon only three blocks away in Clark street. 
 When the cab stopped, he handed the " cabby " a 
 dollar and darted into the saloon. 
 
 He nodded good-naturedly to the men behind 
 the bar, powers in politics each one. The Cer 
 berus on guard in the rear, hearing his approach, 
 looked up haughtily from the paper he was read 
 ing, but when he saw the candidate he slid off his 
 chair in a wink and touched his round, bald pate. 
 " Your honor! " he gasped. " Recognized your 
 honor by the pictures of your honor." 
 
 "Is McBride inside?" asked the incisive Cor- 
 lis. "Who s with him?" 
 
 360
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Nobody, your honor. Walk right in; no need 
 to announce the whole thing that is, your honor." 
 
 Cerberus looked to see if his humor was shared. 
 It was not. 
 
 " Mighty stuck on himself," mused Cerberus, 
 as the candidate disappeared. 
 
 McBride started up when he saw who it was 
 for his girth the Boss was nimble. 
 
 " What s doin , Corlis? " he asked keenly. " By 
 God, you look it." 
 
 " Should think I should, McBride. Is the door 
 shut?" 
 
 Then Corlis broke out into a rage, whose man 
 ner was characteristic enough. The display was 
 terrific, but no heat accompanied the passion. 
 
 McBride endured the exhibition phlegmatically. 
 
 " Quit it, Corlis," he said presently. " To let 
 loose ain t to play the game. You ve got to take 
 your medicine in politics as well as the other 
 feller." 
 
 " But this lets the bottom out," declared Corlis, 
 grinding his strong teeth. 
 
 " Sure," assented the Boss. " Did you think I 
 didn t see it? " 
 
 McBride had the more impervious hide, tanned 
 by long exposure before it had ever been laved in 
 cologne. 
 
 " But it don t make no difference, Corlis; you ve 
 got to play the hand out. When you held fours, 
 
 361
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 you played em strong that s easy. Now you ve 
 got only ace high, it ll take nerve to play em the 
 same way." 
 
 " I m not weakening," growled the candidate. 
 " Let me swear. But this fixes us, doesn t it? " 
 
 " Naw," disagreed the Boss, " not till election s 
 come and gone. I never give up till after I m 
 licked." 
 
 That s pure Irish braggadocio, McBride." 
 
 When you ve finished a campaign or two, 
 Corlis, I m tellin you, you ll learn never to lay 
 down till the last day, and never to feel sure, 
 neither." 
 
 " But what are we to do after The Pundit gets 
 through with us? " 
 
 " Do? Lie ! It s up to us, ain t it, to lie to lie 
 for all that s in us. A lie does most as well as the 
 truth, anyway; that s my experience. It ll be a 
 stand-off between The Pundit and us fellers, and 
 you can find plenty yaps enough to take stock in 
 any old thing, if you ll only say it loud. The Sen 
 ator s word will help some, too, I guess." 
 
 You don t suppose," surmised Corlis pres 
 ently, " that MacPherson would have the impu 
 dence to publish what I said to him? He might 
 have had a stenographer hidden somewhere." 
 
 " Did he say anything? " asked McBride. 
 
 " He said I wasn t being interviewed. He 
 might have said it to throw me off my guard." 
 
 362
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " You re safe," decided the Boss. " Mac s 
 Scotch and a damn Protestant. But how did the 
 old man get on to us you say he had all the Con 
 solidated plans and figgers?" 
 
 " I did my best to convince him he had been 
 imposed upon, but it wouldn t work," explained 
 Corlis in disgust. 
 
 " Hell! " ejaculated the Boss. 
 
 " Of course," remarked Corlis, almost casually, 
 but as if he were afforded some consolation, " we 
 know there was only one leak possible, McBride. 
 MacPherson must have been supplied from The 
 Obelisk. " 
 
 "What makes you think so?" snapped Mc 
 Bride, swiaging on his heels, in order to watch 
 every muscle in his colleague s face. 
 
 " There can be no other possible source for the 
 information." Corlis smiled a bit sarcastically. 
 " McBride, you ve been a fool to trust too much 
 to that young woman of yours." 
 
 " I don t think so," maintained the Boss, ob 
 stinately. Although their interests were mutual, 
 their mutual irritation grew. 
 
 " You re blind, then," rejoined Corlis. " It 
 could have come from nowhere but out of that 
 office. I have it, it was that reporter what s his 
 name? Ruggles he s her friend; he lies around 
 up there often. She will put it on him anyhow, 
 see if she doesn t." 
 
 363
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 McBride intentionally curtailed the discussion. 
 
 " Humph ! No use nosin in the air, Corlis 
 the trouble s done, that s what we ve got to reckon 
 with and not who done the trouble. Keep your 
 self cool, while I fox round a day or so; then 
 we ll fix up a contradiction. Time enough." 
 
 As Corlis went out, the Boss took up the tele 
 phone. 
 
 "Hello, that you, Card? You know me, I 
 guess? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 * The Pundit to-morrow. Is that so?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Something personal you done it for? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Thought so. Well, you ain t goin to talk 
 no more, are you? " 
 
 " No. Nobody will learn how The Pundit got 
 on." 
 
 " All right, Card. You ve kicked a hole big 
 as the La Salle street tunnel through our job. 
 Let up now and take a rest; you ve done it you 
 ought to be satisfied. And, Card, come out home 
 and see Gretchen to-night I want to talk to you." 
 
 " I ll be there." 
 
 Card dropped the telephone in her own office. 
 
 "That was McBride," she said to Ruggles; 
 " he knows it." 
 
 " How does he take it? " asked the reporter. 
 364
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Oh, easy; same as I do. What s the use? " 
 
 Five minutes later the office-boy announced Mr. 
 Corlis. 
 
 " Let him come right in," bade Card. 
 
 He was already coming in, and as he entered, 
 Card wheeled her revolving chair and looked up 
 with a brave smile. Ruggles took up his hat. 
 
 With Mr. Corlis came a chill. His concen 
 trated rage magnified his handsomeness. His 
 cold eyes swept over Card, then noticed Ruggles 
 for a moment; the reporter felt their contempt 
 even to his bones. 
 
 Mr. Corlis went directly to the issue. 
 
 You do not need to be accused, Miss Brown; 
 you acknowledge it. No doubt you are proud of 
 selling information to The Pundit of having it 
 to sell." 
 
 Card was on her feet, confronting him with a 
 face turned white, but resolute as rock; she had 
 divined his purpose. 
 
 " Yes, I did it; I gave it to The Pundit, if that s 
 what you mean," she said. 
 
 " From what motive did you do it, if not for 
 money? " he challenged, with a sneer. " No one 
 who knows your high character would attribute a 
 mercenary motive to you." 
 
 He paused, and held her in a torture of sus 
 pense. 
 
 " Perhaps, out of my knowledge, I may be able 
 
 365
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 to suggest a motive do you not think so? " He 
 gloated. " Pray do not go, Mr. Ruggles " he 
 bowed disdainfully " this may concern you much 
 more than you imagine." 
 
 Card had grown suddenly majestic, both with 
 the pallor and the dignity of marble. 
 
 You are quite right, Mr. Corlis," she said, 
 simply, " my motive was revenge, at least as much 
 of it as you are capable of understanding. And, 
 let me add, the revenge is not inadequate." 
 
 That high demeanor, that acceptance of what 
 he had designed to force shamefully upon her, 
 stirred the ruffian in the gentleman. His was a 
 cool and quiet savagery. 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Brown? In other words, in 
 order that your young friend here may fully com 
 prehend, you have violated your commercial honor 
 in order to avenge your personal honor." 
 
 Involuntarily she sent an agonizing glance 
 towards Ruggles, to withdraw it instantly as if 
 sight of his presence seared her eyes. She rocked 
 as she stood and her lids closed, but she was too 
 proud to shrink; she held her head high up and 
 took the blow. 
 
 " You felt you had evened your accounts with 
 me," Mr. Corlis sneered. " But you overlooked 
 the possibility of retaliation; you should not have 
 made it so apparent that you were growing senti- 
 
 366
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 mental. But Mr. Ruggles will hardly find you all 
 he dreamed since now he knows." 
 
 She shuddered painfully, but cried out, 
 
 " I knew you for a bad man, Mr. Corlis; but I 
 didn t know you were a mean one, too." 
 
 The curious, involuntary contempt in the re 
 joinder perhaps stung him. 
 
 " No more than your friend here that you were 
 a ruined woman," he hissed out. 
 
 A crash. Corlis turned. Ruggles was leaping 
 for his throat. He had time to step back a foot 
 or two ; but Ruggles had grasped the collar of his 
 coat. 
 
 "You infernal blackguard!" the reporter 
 roared. 
 
 " Chris, let him go ! I tell you, let him go ! " 
 commanded Card. " It s my own sin has found 
 me out." 
 
 " Get out of here," cried Ruggles, hoarsely, his 
 great shoulders heaving with the mighty wrath of 
 the slow man. 
 
 Mr. Corlis retired with dignity. 
 
 " My business is finished, I fany." 
 
 At the door he half turned : 
 
 You are young, Mr. Ruggles, but you may 
 thank me for this, some day." 
 
 367
 
 XL 
 
 THE CHARITY THAT COVERS SINS 
 
 LITTLE Mrs. McBride met Card in the dim 
 hall, where the smell of the dinner lingered. 
 Gretchen put up her lips to be kissed and 
 her round arms to encircle the neck of her tall 
 friend. 
 
 " I told Mike, Card," purred Gretchen, sooth 
 ingly, " I told him why you did it, and I guess 
 he guessed beforehand, because he wasn t much 
 surprised. And you needn t be afraid, dear Card; 
 you know our Mike s a good friend to women. 
 And besides, I shouldn t wonder if he ain t really 
 stuck on you, because you had your nerve with 
 you Mike always said you had more nerve than 
 any man he d ever seen. And he likes a friend of 
 his to be a good hater he s such a good one him 
 self." 
 
 Gard let herself go; she, who like a strong 
 man, never wept, she put down her lofty head on 
 Gretchen s soft shoulder and sobbed in deep, dry 
 sobs. 
 
 She had hardly flinched; she had faced shame 
 itself, if not victoriously, nobly at least. And she 
 had come to the McBrides to bear it out, to ac- 
 
 368
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 cept, if not open reproaches, then understood con 
 demnation for her betrayal of the confidence of 
 her patron. Besides, now that the act was accom 
 plished, The Pundit told, sharp questionings were 
 devised by her uneasiness, and, despite her reason 
 ing, the grief she had brought on Mrs. Corlis trou 
 bled her conscience. 
 
 But in the place of upbraidings she was met 
 with vindication; in the house of the publican and 
 his wife, a former sinner, she was welcomed with 
 love. They understood her passions, they could 
 feel sympathy for her. It was too much. Card 
 sank upon her knees, her arms clinging around 
 Gretchen s waist, as, in the homely print, the 
 woman cast up by the waves clings to the cross. 
 
 In the basement, downstairs, the Black Boss sat 
 in his shirt sleeves next the dining-room table, 
 drinking beer, his Celtic susceptibilities deadened 
 by the cotton-wool envelope of Teutonic comfort. 
 He looked at the two women when they entered, 
 with the daze of his ruminations in his expression; 
 but when it reached his intelligence who it was, he 
 got cumbersomely to his feet. 
 
 Sobriety of sorrow had replaced the splendor 
 of defiance in Card s bearing; she looked more 
 womanly than was usual with her. Yet it was 
 hardly the repentant Magdalen. Even in her 
 tragedy Card was far from orthodox; it was the 
 grateful human creature. 
 
 369
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 McBride not only got upon his feet, he crossed 
 the room to greet and welcome her. He bowed 
 to her as if she had been Mrs. Corlis or a queen; 
 the manipulation of his bulk might have been 
 somewhat ponderous, but the intention of his heart 
 was knightly. 
 
 " Mighty glad to see you now, Card," he said, 
 his blue eyes beaming. " You re the closest friend 
 this family s got ain t she, Gretchen? I want 
 you to come over here and sit down and have a 
 beer with me." 
 
 Card seated herself in a chair alongside the big 
 chair of the Boss. The flaxen hausfrau fetched 
 the mugs of beer and then perched her round self 
 on an arm of Card s seat, her two long braids 
 hanging one across each shoulder and down her 
 breast. The Boss, black and burly, blinked benev 
 olently, thought of his own loss furthest from his 
 consciousness, while the maternal solicitude of his 
 soft Gretchen for her independent friend brought 
 a tear to his heart and a smile to his eye. 
 
 "We remember, we do, don t we, Gretchen?" 
 said the Boss. " Where d this family be, if it 
 hadn t been for Card, I want to know." 
 
 Gretchen kissed Card s neck. 
 
 " You was my friend before Mike was when 
 people looked sidewise at. me out of their eye." 
 
 " And we don t forget it, we don t, Gard." 
 
 The Boss slapped his knee. 
 3/0
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 After a while Card resumed something of her 
 usual flashing manner; it was her habit to speak 
 out. 
 
 You don t seem very mad about it, after all," 
 she said, rallying McBride. 
 
 ; Whist! it s my uncommon good-nature," 
 winked the Boss in reply. Then he wagged his 
 big head dolorously. 
 
 u But you kilt my chance of becomin too rich 
 to breathe." 
 
 " Pshaw, you d rather be honest than rich, Mc 
 Bride," she retorted. " All men would." 
 
 " Give me the chance to choose between," he 
 chuckled; "my virtue needs tremendous to be 
 tried." 
 
 " Oh, no, it s above suspicion," clamored Card. 
 
 " How it just does take you, Card dear, to 
 wake Mike up," commented Gretchen with ap 
 proval. 
 
 " All the same you oughtn t to a done it, 
 though I don t blame you none," the Boss con 
 cluded. " But I guess you near squared accounts, 
 Gard, if anybody s askin ." 
 
 Again the Boss could not repress a twinkle. 
 
 " Not if the Republicans are still going to win," 
 excepted Gard. The Boss s equanimity had sud 
 denly alarmed her fears. 
 
 He grinned. 
 
 371
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 "Good! You don t let go, do you, Card? 
 What a first-class fightin man you d have made." 
 
 " You think you will still win? " pressed Card. 
 " You d be sorry if you didn t? " 
 
 " I don t know," answered the Boss frankly. 
 " He s stuck on his destiny, he is. I can see that 
 to be governor of Illinois ain t goin to content 
 him none; he s figgerin away ahead. But what 
 I m figgerin is, that when he gets to be governor 
 once, he ll take it into his head to do the re- 
 formin act; it d be a grand-stand play that d 
 make him solid with the Puritans, for him to turn 
 his back on me and the organization that boosted 
 him. He s just the feller to play that trick, I ve 
 made up my mind. We two are thick as mud now; 
 but after January first next he might claim my 
 breath inside the State House down at Spring 
 field d tarnish the pure atmosphere. He might, 
 there s no tellin ." 
 
 " I see," said Card, in her old manner; " you re 
 a stickler still for that one principle of yours, 
 honor among thieves." 
 
 " That explains why I ain t as mad as I might 
 be at what you ve gone and done," resumed the 
 Boss. " If Corlis is the kind of cuss to kick away 
 the ladder he climbed up by, what use is he goin 
 to be to me in my business? " 
 
 Card stayed that night at the McBrides , and 
 Gretchen slept with her. Such close communion it 
 
 372
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 was which drew from Card the story of how Mr. 
 Corlis had denounced her in the office before 
 Christopher Ruggles. 
 
 "He is so hard, so hard," she moaned. "I 
 read it all in his face, Gretchen. His sense of 
 purity was shocked. He demands purity in us 
 women, purity iirst of all, and, not having that, we 
 can have everything else fine in vain." 
 
 Gretchen wisely urged that Gard must give 
 him time. 
 
 " He will come back, Gard, never fear." 
 
 What does he know of human nature, how it 
 is a blend in us all? " demanded Gard in sudden 
 protest. " All he thinks of is what doesn t exist, 
 abstractions, tricks of words that he exalts and 
 would like to die for Justice, Truth, Progress, 
 Purity and such vast mouth fuls. Oh, some 
 times I hate him for it, he is so blind ! Warm 
 human love, human pity, human forgiveness, hu 
 man comradeship, the toleration that makes allow 
 ances and the faith that s loyal oh, he is poised 
 and studious; he never once suspects that such 
 commonplaces are all that are alive, that his bleak 
 ideals are just inside his head." 
 
 Gretchen raised herself upon an elbow to lean 
 and kiss Gard s mouth. 
 
 " He ll learn, he ll learn, he ll suffer so, he ll 
 learn. It is the only way for him, Gard dear, and 
 I ll bet he s suffering a heap right now." 
 
 373
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Card had to laugh. 
 
 " You re such a perfect squirrel, Gretchen." 
 
 Gretchen snuggled. 
 
 " Mike says I m a little fool. It s so, too. But 
 little fools know more about some few things than 
 smart folks do." 
 
 374
 
 G 
 
 XLI 
 
 TWO SCENES FROM THE LIVES OF WOMEN 
 
 RETCHEN slept and, after a while, Card 
 
 slept fitfully also. But she lay long awake, 
 and, as she lay, she thought of all that had 
 happened and how the worth of a test is that it 
 reveals the stuff in people. But what Chris had 
 said to her and she to Chris in the office after Mr. 
 Corlis had gone away formed the persistent burden 
 of her mind. 
 
 This was the scene : 
 
 Ruggles had stood, breathing deeply; he did 
 not look at Card. She had gone limp ; her limbs 
 loosened, her face wan, her eyes like those of a 
 beaten dog, involuntarily supplicatory. 
 
 " Chris," she whispered painfully. " Chris," 
 she repeated. 
 
 He gave no least sign of hearing, not so much 
 as by the twitching of a muscle; he was staring 
 horribly before him. She would have touched him 
 in appeal, but did not dare drag herself nearer him. 
 
 " Chris," she agonized, " only speak to me." 
 
 He would not look he was not conscious of 
 his cruelty. A spasm suddenly convulsed his face. 
 
 " Tell me," he gasped, " tell me that black 
 guard lied! " 
 
 375
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She threw back her head with unconscious, 
 queenly motion, to look at him, to study him, 
 while he hung in suspense. The truth was evi 
 dent; she scorned it, even while it tortured her; 
 jealousy as a man was what he suffered. 
 
 " I suppose you ll despise me when I answer 
 that he didn t lie," she said, contemptuously. " So 
 like a man." A brave smile circled her quivering 
 mouth. 
 
 " And if he did not, if he spoke the truth, does 
 it make me different? I am the same I was be 
 fore, before you knew." 
 
 She could not, for her life, restrain the sob that 
 choked her voice. 
 
 He turned to her, but he did not lift his eyes. 
 
 When a man loves a woman " he began 
 tensely. 
 
 " Oh, so you found it out," she jeered, in reac 
 tion from excess of pain. " It took a wretched 
 physical jealousy to enlighten you, did it?" In a 
 deep tone, " I could have told you a year ago, 
 dear Chris." 
 
 He buried his face in his hands to avoid the 
 imperious yearning of her eyes. His shoulders 
 sank miserably. 
 
 The lines of Card s chin came out distinct and 
 clear; her head poised itself a bit defiantly. She 
 put her hands behind her back as was her wont 
 
 376
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 when she could not keep them still. She began 
 with the simplicity of a child, 
 
 " Oh, Chris, what of it all? What if years ago 
 that man did make me love him, till I found him 
 out? It was so hard and I had so to struggle! 
 I had to fight despair and my self-contempt and a 
 bitter world outside. And all the time, too, I had 
 to work my fingers to the bone to keep myself. 
 Can you not pity, some, the girl I was, and make 
 allowance, Chris, for her ignorance, her country- 
 ness and what she didn t know? Surely you can 
 pity her, at least perhaps forgive her even as I 
 do. And it took me many a year to do that, 
 Chris." 
 
 She waited. He had half turned his back. 
 
 She stepped nearer to him, close, and when she 
 spoke, a new tone colored her speech, a tone of 
 suppressed demand. 
 
 " Have you, then, no sins in your own lost 
 youth, that you must be so hard? Yet it is dead, 
 and it would anger you to be tasked now for what 
 you were when your youth was alive. I I am 
 not that girl ! I am a woman, and the more a 
 woman, abler to think and live and love, because 
 I ve suffered and struggled and succeeded, even as 
 you have, Christopher Ruggles. What did you 
 want of me, what would you have? Just an im 
 maculate mistress, a prattling child?" 
 
 377
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Every man," he blundered out, " keeps an 
 ideal. It hurts to have it violated." 
 
 " No doubt," she assented drily. Then in a 
 quick burst came the storm. Her bosom heaved, 
 the gray eyes flamed, and she was clothed with 
 majesty. 
 
 ; Ideal! " she cried. " Yes, the ideal his own 
 sultanic vanity conceived for him. He insists a 
 woman must keep pure for him, for the future 
 and for him ! But I tell you now, Chris Ruggles, 
 I value myself higher, yes and better respect my 
 self as I am this day, than if I were, to the last 
 pretty ribbon, what your man s ideal would have 
 me be. I know my own strength, I ve tested my 
 courage, I ve beaten the world out, and I have 
 not been downed. There is no speculative quality 
 about me. I can look you squarely in the eyes, I 
 can say honestly I am the better woman for what 
 I have passed through, and you have no real right 
 to spurn me." 
 
 It cost Card infinitely to say these things, to 
 stand out and fiercely vindicate herself. But at the 
 crisis a sort of noble rage seized her that burned 
 up any feeble sense of shame. For it enraged her 
 to feel that the highest in her was arraigned, where 
 the neutral virtues might have strutted in com 
 placency. 
 
 Chris looked up, to receive the effect in full of 
 her surprising splendor, the sudden sublimation 
 
 378
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 into grandeur of a white and golden woman. He 
 could not bear the glory, so looked down. But 
 he struck at it slanderously with the words, 
 
 "If you had it all to live again, would you, in 
 order to become what you are now would you do 
 again as you have done? " 
 
 It turned her to a wounded, gasping, quivering 
 thing it cut the pedestal from under her. 
 
 Maybe he did not perceive what was his cruel 
 ty ; his lids were very heavy with his own woe. 
 
 " Let me go," he entreated, self-engrossed. " I 
 must get away be by myself." 
 
 He started to move as if dazed. 
 Yes, Chris," she agreed brokenly. " But, oh 
 Chris, come back sometime. We were friends 
 before before such friends ! And we will be 
 friends again say so friends still after " 
 She bent to the wall. 
 
 He groped his way, blindly, to the door. He 
 could not look at her. He stammered, 
 
 " Sometime, Card, yes, sometime perhaps it 
 won t be long. For, anyhow, we, Card, we stick 
 together we re friends for good." 
 
 The very day the exposure of the Electrical 
 Consolidated appeared in The Pundit, Mrs. Corlis 
 took occasion to announce her departure for New* 
 port. She would leave the next day save one. 
 
 " I find I must enjoy the pleasure of the season 
 
 379
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 at Newport after all," she said. " It is the inevita 
 ble frivolity of my sex, Walter dear." 
 
 She had just returned from her afternoon drive, 
 and Mr. Corlis, who had come home from down 
 town early, had met her as she stepped out of the 
 carriage and entered the house with her. Now 
 she stood with one foot upon the first step of the 
 stair, reluctant to pause, indeed, yet held by his 
 obvious desire. 
 
 " I wish you would be good enough to recon 
 sider, Victoria," a novel dependence in his man 
 ner. " How is it possible for me to get along 
 without you? Your advice, to say nothing of 
 your encouragement, is simply indispensable, as 
 you must yourself be aware. You have done 
 everything, you ve been the real manager; you it 
 was who mollified McBride, you influenced the 
 Governor " 
 
 The mention of her services perceptibly pained 
 her. 
 
 " I don t wish to hear of that, Walter," she 
 bade. Then she yawned. 
 
 " The truth is I have lost my interest; politics 
 I find a fearful bore, and I m quite tired out. 
 So," sweetly, "let me go upstairs and dress; I 
 haven t any too much time." 
 
 He insisted. 
 
 " I fear you are influenced by this morning s 
 Pundit; you are experiencing a fit of disgust. But 
 
 380
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 such attacks, believe me, Victoria, are inseparable 
 from the management of great affairs. They are 
 the malady that attends success." 
 
 She smiled with disillusion at his words nay, 
 with just a suspicion of mockery in her eyes. 
 
 " Don t revive that old vanity in me, Walter; 
 it is dead. Besides, I assure you, I don t care; I 
 am indifferent to great affairs, sick of senators 
 and governors and intrigues and lies. My taste is 
 feminine. I long for amusement, and Newport 
 alone can satisfy my soul." 
 
 He reddened a bit under this raillery. 
 
 " I suppose it is the charges of The Pundit that 
 have produced this revolution in your mind," he 
 said impatiently. " For my part, I fail to see why 
 the publication should affect you in the least. From 
 your point of view, Victoria, it is merely an acci 
 dent. You knew of the project before; I laid it 
 all before you and you were enthusiastic; you in 
 terested Mr. Jarrett in the scheme. What I 
 don t understand is why you should regard the 
 thing so differently, simply because it s been aired 
 in a newspaper." 
 
 True," she answered coldly. " But we 
 women, Walter, are limited in understanding and 
 seldom perceive the full consequences of anything 
 until some one comes along to demonstrate the 
 enormity in detail and set it forth in black and
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 white. Then it reaches our dullness and it 
 shocks our morality." 
 
 The significance of her look passed into a slow 
 smile. She gathered her skirts and went up a step 
 or two. 
 
 " A moment, please," he begged, nay, bade. 
 He pressed close against the banisters. 
 
 " Is that all, Victoria, have you no more rea 
 sons?" His eyes, his whole face, were urgent, 
 accusant. " Confess, this is your excuse there is 
 something you have learned. Do I not know 
 what it is? " 
 
 He gazed up at her with that force of intimacy 
 which in a second of time cannot be denied and 
 which a second is sufficient to supply the answer 
 for. 
 
 She hid nothing, did not attempt to, even. 
 She eyed him with a little wonder at the shameless- 
 ness of his effrontery. 
 
 " I have; it is true," she said. Then she trem 
 bled. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders slightly. 
 
 " But what of it, Victoria; you are a woman of 
 the world. The offense is surely outlawed, it was 
 so long ago, and, excuse me, you have condoned 
 much more since. I am confident you are not going 
 to be foolish at this eleventh hour." 
 
 He continued arguing to her as if to a court; 
 he appealed to her judgment. Did he fancy she 
 
 382
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 could not suffer, that the politician had totally 
 superseded the woman in her, that ambition was 
 her exclusive passion, and heart by her discarded 
 as a weakness? She realized at that moment, as 
 never quite so explicitly before, the infinite unlike- 
 ness of her husband and herself. They shared in 
 all things except in soul. 
 
 He urged the practical considerations for which 
 in common they had waged the campaign her 
 father s reelection, his own election, the aggran 
 dizement of the family. But she shook her head. 
 
 He ventured to suggest his own ambition, to 
 hint his Caesarean nature, to avow the necessity 
 of her cooperation in his schemes, a-s of her tol 
 eration of his passions. That contention he had 
 found had never yet failed of effect upon her. 
 
 It failed now. 
 
 " No, no, Walter," she plead, almost mourn 
 fully, " do not try to influence me. I am through. 
 You may be a great man; indeed, I believe you 
 are. But I am not great, I am only a woman, and 
 to me finally the claims of pity and of sorrow 
 seem of more concern than those of intellect and 
 pride." 
 
 She trailed above the banister as she went 
 slowly up the stairs, her face contrite but resolute. 
 She spoke down, 
 
 " Reproaches between us, Walter, are ridicu 
 lous. I admit I have no more reason to complain
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 because great men lack soul, than you have be 
 cause women lack brain. It is the nature of both. 
 Adieu." 
 
 384
 
 I 
 
 XLII 
 
 THE ISSUE IS FORMED 
 
 T WAS " hell to pay," as McBride had said 
 it was bound to be. The publication, " the 
 exposure," by The Pundit, drew an open let 
 ter from Governor Ransom within twenty-four 
 hours. The Governor publicly repudiated the 
 party and denounced the Chicago platform as a 
 deception and the candidate as a fraud. Further 
 more, he declared himself for the Democratic 
 nominee, Gustave Schwab, and announced that he 
 would himself take the stump in the latter s in 
 terest. 
 
 The letter contained terrible phrases, whose 
 biting rancor only one politician in Illinois had 
 the ability to invent. They were phrases that lent 
 themselves to quotation, being detachable, that 
 nailed the attention of the average voter, that in 
 delibly printed themselves upon the popular con 
 sciousness. 
 
 The letter styled W. H. D. Corlis "an Eastern 
 candidate," and called McBride " the Croker of 
 the West." The " precious pair," the letter 
 charged, were united in an attempt to corrupt Illi 
 nois by " New York methods " and to foist upon 
 
 385
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 the state a machine modeled upon those of Platt 
 and Quay. Having already captured Chicago, 
 the letter asserted, possessing a war chest supplied 
 from the loot of a great city, the conquest of the 
 state was next in order. To win Springfield, " to 
 set a corporation instrument and personage in the 
 gubernatorial chair," to elect a legislature which 
 would prove as pliant as the Chicago Common 
 Council itself, were necessary preliminaries to the 
 general debauch of free grants of franchises and 
 privileges to corporations that " the piratical Cor- 
 lis-McBride gang " had planned. " McBride has 
 Tammanyized Chicago is Corlis to be allowed 
 to Tamrnanyize the state?" was the letter s final 
 challenge. 
 
 McBride must have had the faith derived from 
 successful experiments, as to the efficacy of a good, 
 stiff lie. Immediately he followed Governor Ran 
 som s letter of repudiation and denunciation by an 
 interview of general and explicit denial, which all 
 the Chicago newspapers printed next morning. 
 The Boss denied the story of The Pundit; he de 
 nied that any corporation such as the Electrical 
 Consolidated had been proposed; he denied 
 being privy to any scheme of spoliation as charged 
 or to any other that could be imagined. He denied 
 these things for himself, for Mr. Corlis, for the 
 party; he characterized the purported exposure as 
 an absurd campaign subterfuge and clumsy lie. 
 
 386
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Finally, he wound up by calling his enemies 
 " pharisees," " hypocrites," " black-legs," and 
 11 dudes." 
 
 The Boss had never been known " to talk " 
 in the progress of a municipal campaign; he was 
 too " foxy " to commit so primary a mistake. 
 His friends wondered why he had " loosened up " 
 now, and asked themselves if the " old man " had 
 acquired the " big head " or lost his cunning. 
 Indeed, McBride himself, when the interview 
 stared at him in cold type, manifested nervousness. 
 He worried in his own mind, although to follow 
 ers he gruffly said, " Be on your way and mind 
 your own bizness." 
 
 Mr. Corlis took him to task. 
 You should have consulted me ; you aren t 
 above advice, McBride. Inside Cook County I 
 never knew your judgment to be at fault, and no 
 question but that you know it all. But the state 
 is not your bailiwick; the state game is a different 
 thing from the city game, and, when you talk for 
 the state, you must catch the exact note or you 
 produce discord." 
 
 The candidate was considerate and superior. 
 
 The Boss did not relish the lecture. He faced 
 Corlis with red in his eyes. 
 
 " Damn it, what do you want? I ain t think- 
 in none of makin votes; I m figgerin to hold 
 on to them we ve got. Something had to be said, 
 
 387
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 so as to let our friends answer back, when Ran 
 som gets goin roarin round with Pundit ammuni 
 tion to fire off. It s up to us to put up a hell of 
 a bluff and right now what it is don t just so 
 much matter, so it s loud. If we can sit solid for 
 a month and stand the gaff, we ve got a slim 
 chance comin to us. If we play the baby for 
 half a minit, election day ll see our finish." 
 
 Corlis demurred; he not only took exception, 
 but he urged his own plan. The truth was, the 
 cool and practical Corlis took his own political ca 
 reer somewhat romantically; he had never heard 
 that other great political leaders were puppets of 
 an Irish boss, and he fancied that this was an op 
 portune occasion to assert decisively his own pri 
 macy. McBride had made the mistake of trusting 
 the Consolidated secret to a woman, and McBride 
 was now aggravating the blunder by talking. Cor 
 lis put his foot down. 
 
 But McBride " got his back up." He con 
 fronted the candidate with a black scowl, what 
 " polish " he had been able to assume through 
 his recent brief association with gentlemen prov 
 ing as transitory as " a shine " on a rainy day. 
 The Boss stood brutal, swaggering; he resembled 
 a bulldog with his teeth bared. 
 
 " Damn you, Corlis," he broke out at last, 
 " you listen to me! I ve got you where the hair s 
 short and you might as well be good now as later, 
 
 388
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 for you ve got to be good. I m runnin this here 
 campaign; you re just as much a greenhorn in pol 
 itics as any of them kid-gloved gentlemen of the 
 Reform Committee. You re the candidate for 
 certain reasons, you are; but you ain t the leader 
 of the party in this state nor in no ward of the city 
 nor county of the country, you ain t. Now, there 
 ain t no need for your gettin huffy, it won t do 
 you no good." And the Boss waved a fat hand. 
 
 Mr. Corlis, in the course of the argument, had 
 turned a bit red, then very pale. Now he said 
 calmly, 
 
 There s some truth in what you say, Mc- 
 Bride." 
 
 As a practical American it was his metier to get 
 along with the Boss, although as a misplaced grand 
 seigneur his impulse was to knock the vulgar pleb 
 down. But Corlis always had himself well in 
 hand: his impulses were luxuries; his interests, 
 the bread of life. 
 
 " Now, I m tellin you," continued McBride, 
 " if you don t want to be licked worse than any 
 feller ever was in Illinois, you ve got to come to 
 time. I tell you straight, I don t trust you none. 
 That s the truth, and to be flat, I want assur 
 ances." 
 
 What more do you mean?" demanded the 
 candidate in indignation, partly simulated, partly 
 real. " Haven t I promised you, if elected, that 
 
 389
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 your organization will find itself recognized at 
 Springfield as it never was? Isn t that satisfactory 
 to you, McBride? " 
 
 " It was; it ain t no more. Your promise was 
 clamped tight by the Electrical Consolidated 
 scheme; you had to sleep in the same bed with 
 me. Now that s kilt. If you once get to be 
 governor, I ve no ropes on you, as the franchise 
 bizness won t work. So the way the thing s turned 
 out, I don t see where I get off at," growled the 
 Boss in conclusion. 
 
 " What do you want? " Corlis defined the con 
 dition bluntly. 
 
 A faint glow spread under the harsh visage of 
 McBride. " Just a sop," he declared. " If you 
 still want me and the organization to fight out this 
 here campaign for you, you ll please just put down 
 a notion of your grateful sentiments for our serv 
 ices on paper, and sign your name to it. I want it 
 so the boys can know exactly what you ll do for 
 us, when you fill the chair down at Springfield." 
 
 Corlis recoiled. He suggested, 
 
 u But suppose some time it should get out, in 
 the future, you know; it would ruin my career. 
 National politics are not state and city politics, 
 McBride." 
 
 The Boss smiled a bit unctuously. 
 
 "I know," he nodded; "but you ll have the 
 chance of earnin back the paper by livin up to 
 
 390
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 it s stipulations, Mr. Corlis. It s a trifle, just a 
 little thing between friends ; that s the way to look 
 at it, sure, Mr. Corlis. And did you ever know 
 Mike McBride to go back on a friend so long 
 as a friend didn t go back on him? " 
 
 In truth, it was no idle boast. 
 
 " Oh, I have no uneasiness on that score," Cor 
 lis assured him. " But but it looks bad, Mc 
 Bride" 
 
 " By God, squirmin won t help you none, Cor 
 lis," swore the Boss viciously. " Get down to 
 bizness; quit foolin ! Do you want to be elected 
 or don t you? And if you re wantin me behind 
 you, you ve got to deliver the goods." 
 
 The candidate took eighteen hours to consider. 
 Then he signed a political promissory note, which 
 the genial McBride deposited in the fire-proof 
 safe in Gard Brown s office. 
 
 Governor Ransom was out upon the stump by 
 the first week in October. He had never talked so 
 directly he talked with crowds as he might have 
 talked to a single man he took them into his 
 deepest confidence; figuratively, he "button 
 holed " each audience. And the people responded. 
 The mistrust they had regretted, but were com 
 pelled to reserve against him as a past-master of 
 practical politics, disappeared; they instinctively 
 felt that this time he was sincere, that he had no
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 axe to grind; that, indeed, he was venturing all 
 he had, all his future, for the truth as he saw 
 it. There was established, from the first, between 
 Governor Ransom and the people a sympathy 
 which might speedily develop into devotion on 
 his part and confirmed trust on theirs. It became 
 apparent at once to discerning men that never in 
 his life had the Governor been so dangerous as 
 he now was. 
 
 There was good reason enough. For the first 
 time in his life was that skeptical intellect wholly 
 convinced; for the first time were his powerful 
 personal passions associated, by accident or good- 
 fortune, with a great principle; for the first time 
 was the cause he pleaded free from the suspicion 
 of sinister influence, and the canvass he made di 
 vorced from desire for spoils. Therefore did 
 Randolph Ransom stand suddenly revealed in all 
 the great unrestrained powers of his intellect and 
 personality, and he dealt blows that crushed. 
 
 Immense crowds heard him. 
 
 " Shall Illinois become a western New York 
 or Pennsylvania?" is what he asked of them. 
 " Shall the Republican Tammany of the Black 
 Boss of Chicago rivet collars on the necks of the 
 honest farmers and plain people of Abe Lincoln s 
 state ? " was the way he hammered the issue 
 home. And whatever he had learned of the art 
 of persuading and arousing men during twenty 
 
 392
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 years practice of the profession of practical poli 
 tics, he used now. No prejudice but what he 
 touched into hostility; no popular misconception 
 that he did not arm. He talked the vernacular. 
 But at rare times his force and fierceness fired his 
 speech into such purity and dignity, that, in un 
 conscious accord, all the demagogic accessories he 
 loved so well were forgotten, and, as if despite 
 himself, Governor Ransom became a moral leader. 
 
 In the fervid heat generated by this stir of 
 forces and clash of men, the organization battle 
 lines of Corlis and McBride shriveled like long 
 grass in a Nebraska drought. From every point 
 the appeal went up to Republican headquarters 
 for assistance, and each appeal ended with a 
 prayer for " just one speech in our district from 
 Senator Dawes." 
 
 " He is the only leader the people will listen 
 to after Governor Ransom," the appeals generally 
 wailed. " One blast upon his bugle-horn is worth 
 ten thousand men," they quoted frequently. 
 
 The Senator was already gone upon the stump. 
 But he seemed no longer the old " Uncle Simeon." 
 To McBride s urgent request that he " camp on 
 Ransom s trail," he responded evasively; there 
 was no hurrying him, and his set speeches seemed 
 perfunctory. 
 
 Whether the State Central Committee appealed 
 to Washington, is not known. However, Senator 
 
 393
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Dawes did receive an intimation from the Presi 
 dent; a close friend of the Administration traveled 
 to Aurora, where the Senator was to speak. 
 
 " The Republican party is in danger," was the 
 pith of the exhortation from Washington; the 
 President insists the party must be saved in Illi 
 nois; the issue is not a mere state issue. If the 
 Democrats win in Illinois upon the issue as de 
 vised by Governor Ransom, that issue will become 
 the national issue two years hence. If Senator 
 Dawes will be induced to shake off his apathy and 
 will lead the party to an old-time victory, the Ad 
 ministration will see to it that every influence is 
 directed to aid in reelecting him Senator." 
 
 The wish of the President sufficed; Senator 
 Dawes bestirred himself. The word from Wash 
 ington made of it an Administration fight, at 
 tached national significance to a local election. 
 The Senator himself became the President s rep 
 resentative, and he took pains to make it clear 
 that he was not obeying the behest of " the Cor- 
 lis-McBride combine." He was transformed in 
 a night; he made a ringing speech announced 
 his intention of following Ransom up. He was 
 once more the leader of his party. 
 
 Circumstances conspired to resolve it into an 
 old-fashioned campaign. The people were arous 
 ed; discussion became general; interest waxed 
 hot. Money and manipulation, the weapons of 
 
 394
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 organization, while effective still, were so only at 
 the minimum; argument, eloquence and personal 
 ity proved again of weight. The politician of the 
 old debating days, skilled at the dialectics of the 
 stump, acquainted with the temper of the people, 
 at least half of him a statesman, came into vogue 
 again for the remainder of that unique campaign. 
 
 Like a crafty general, Senator Dawes refused 
 to batter Ransom s front. He was silent upon 
 corporations and he affected to make light of the 
 Electrical Consolidated as a mere local scandal, 
 if it did not turn out a manufactured lie. He pro 
 claimed Silver and Bimetallism to be the issue of 
 the campaign, an issue so broad and so important 
 that no municipal question could obscure, no 
 charge of corruption usurp its place. Let the 
 citizens of Chicago settle their own affairs; the 
 voters of the state had far larger matters to en 
 gage their concern. 
 
 Seemingly " Uncle Simeon " had turned the 
 enemy s flank. The threat of Free Silver and 
 cheap money alarmed the conservative and com 
 mercial classes, while respectability in general, 
 though shocked by the exposure of The Pundit, 
 eyed Ransom askance for his record in the past, 
 and was unattracted, if not shocked, by the sav 
 agery of his denunciations. The peril of corporate 
 corruption paled in comparison with the peril of 
 demagoguery and of a dishonest dollar. 
 
 395
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 If the Senator made a mistake, it consisted in 
 his neglect of the pretense of consulting the Chi 
 cago Boss. Necessity alone had compelled him 
 to be cordial to McBride at the time of the Con 
 vention. When the developments wrested the 
 directorship of the campaign from the Boss, the 
 Senator assumed that he, himself, had been put 
 back into his old leadership and that McBride was 
 no longer a factor, savory or unsavory, that must 
 be considered. 
 
 The neglect hurt McBride, who, at heart, ad 
 mired the old statesman. His Celtic susceptibil 
 ity, decisive enough where the business of the 
 Cook County Organization was not involved, in 
 clined him to seek favor where he admired; but, 
 as it was, the Senatorial aloofness thrust him back 
 upon Corlis. 
 
 By the middle of October the campaign had at 
 tained a furious pace. The issue had emerged 
 sharply and already the result in part was antici 
 pated. Chicago would go heavily Republican; 
 there for once " the machine " and " the better 
 element," like congenial yoke-fellows, pulled to 
 gether, the former inspired by hope of plunder, 
 the latter animated by a fear of worthless money. 
 It was as certain that all Egypt would swing into 
 line for Ransom and his cause. 
 
 The battleground, the disputed territory, lay 
 between these two extremes of the state. There 
 
 396
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Senator Dawes had always been strong, and 
 therein he was now pleading, arguing, persuading, 
 by day and by night. There, also, Governor Ran 
 som ranged, applying the torch of vituperation to 
 the dry brush of discontent, making specious pleas 
 interspersed with snatches of almost sublime ap 
 peal. 
 
 It was a combat of political giants. The last 
 fortnight it narrowed to a duel between the two, 
 and the rest of the state hushed its controversy 
 to hearken to the clashings of their swords. Not 
 since the day of Douglas and Lincoln had a de 
 bate so interested the people in Illinois as did this 
 dramatic encounter between Senator Simeon E. 
 Dawes and Governor Randolph Ransom. 
 
 397
 
 XLIII 
 
 WITH J. J. J. s EYES 
 
 MRS. CORLIS, that season at Newport and 
 later at Lenox, led " the whirl." She gath 
 ered the fruits of years of social strug 
 gle and devotion. The first years had obtained 
 her recognition ; the last brought her power ; now 
 she enjoyed almost supremacy. All the policy, 
 the tact, the intellectual charm she had inherited 
 from one side, together with the will to dominate 
 and the ability to manage she had drawn from the 
 other, had been squandered in an effort to conquer, 
 and then to maintain. Yet more, in the midst of 
 the astonishing frivolity of this, her last summer, 
 she even accused herself, in those secret confes 
 sions in which she indulged, of having spent upon 
 society the precious treasures of her soul and the 
 ideals of her mind. 
 
 Yet never, apparently, had she been so absorbed 
 in society. She spent money like water; she en 
 tertained fabulously; she " managed " amusement 
 with the ingenuity of a Barnum, the executive 
 power of a railway president, and the aesthetic 
 sense of a landscape gardener. She adopted the 
 vernacular of the " smart set " and resumed their 
 
 398
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 set of ideas. " Society " was unquestionably the 
 salt of all America, the savor of sixty million peo 
 ple. As for the people, they were proletariat, 
 " the great unwashed," a vulgar democracy, whose 
 antics were amusing, whose spasms were childish, 
 though some day, no doubt, the same might prove 
 dangerous. What a pity Hamilton s notion of 
 the necessity for an aristocracy had not originally 
 prevailed, instead of Jefferson s conception of the 
 divinity of the mob. 
 
 Yet these platitudes irritated her, this pose often 
 excited her scorn. Mrs. Corlis would surprise 
 herself by applying to the conditions at hand the 
 observations she had learned from an Illinois 
 spoils politician and a Chicago reporter. She 
 noted, likewise, in herself, the persistent recrudes 
 cence of the Puritan, and she vaguely resented 
 the borrowed Anglican terms of depreciation, 
 " dissent " and " dissenters," which the High 
 Church so glibly bestowed. 
 
 The noise of the conflict in Illinois, more and 
 more reverberating throughout the Union, became 
 the topic in society along with the last bit of gos 
 sip. They deferred to her political knowledge; 
 they affirmed she came of a " political family," 
 and, indeed, were disposed to plume themselves 
 upon the political influence possessed by a woman 
 of themselves. It was not unlike the function 
 fulfilled by a political duchess in England. 
 
 26
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 This form of adulation pursued her constantly, 
 and she was always answering questions about the 
 nature and significance of the struggle. The uni 
 versal interest in the Illinois campaign proved its 
 dramatic quality, and, whether she would or no, 
 she was forced to consider it. 
 
 Thereby came intervals, when, despite herself, 
 the politician in her revived, when her fancy turned 
 from dance and dinner to the prairies of " the 
 woolly West," where unregenerate men were spar 
 ring for grips upon one another s throats, where 
 her father fought with his back against the wall, 
 where boss and spoilsman wrestled for sake of 
 power and office and pride and hate. Beside the 
 starkness of that fight, the intrigues in the exclusive 
 set seemed somewhat tame. 
 
 As the struggle narrowed to the consummation, 
 willy-nilly her growing interest followed it. The 
 final duel between her father and her first lover 
 if its melodrama served to fix the attention of the 
 nation, how absorbingly it captured her ! She was 
 proud for them both. The passionate onslaughts 
 of Ransom thrilled the strenuous chords in her 
 own soul s harp. What a knight-errant of error, 
 what a dark champion of evil, what a gladiator for 
 despair was he ! And her father his figure 
 loomed large in the land; he was proved of the 
 stature of a statesman; he was equal with Clay 
 and Seward and Conkling. 
 
 400
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She grew greatly anxious about him, moreover; 
 she was concerned for his nerves and his endur 
 ance. She had perceived at Primrose Hill that he 
 was, indeed, an old man. So, when the combat 
 had developed into a debate, when the last fort 
 night s battle of the giants opened, all America 
 looking on, she moved to an abrupt resolution. 
 Why be bored insufferably at Lenox, when she 
 could as well be " in at the death " in Illinois; 
 why worry for her father s health at a distance, 
 when she might watch over it at his side? 
 
 She telegraphed her uncle up at his place in 
 New Hampshire that she was going West to her 
 father. J. J. J. answered in three hours, saying 
 he would go with her, and bidding her meet him 
 in Springfield. 
 
 He had both his private cars, the " Swiftsure " 
 for himself, the " Victoria " for her. With a 
 baggage-car ahead they made up a special train 
 to go through to Chicago. 
 
 Uncle Johnny was very glad to see his niece 
 again, and Mrs. Corlis, resigning herself grate 
 fully into his hands, became again a child, enjoyed 
 the luxury of dependence and exercised the pre 
 rogative of weakness, the tyranny of caprice and 
 fondness. 
 
 She asked him why he, also, was going to Chi 
 cago. 
 
 " Because my little Vicky wants me to, and 
 401
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 because I want to be with her," the old man an 
 swered, sentimentally. 
 
 They were walking up and down the station 
 platform, his arm in hers, her shoulders even with 
 his head. 
 
 Later, on the train, he explained more sensibly. 
 
 " Thought I might as well. I don t know any 
 thing; but I m uneasy. There s something s got 
 loose out there, I feel; some board s sprung and 
 the wind whines in the break." 
 
 She smiled; she was not unfamiliar with J. 
 J. J. s divinations, his Scotch second sight. He 
 rather professed the infallibility of the power, 
 himself; but she had shrewdly observed the power 
 was not invoked when affairs of profit or problems 
 of organization were involved. 
 
 However, J. J. J. returned frequently to " the 
 thing that s got loose " during the progress of 
 their westward journey. 
 
 " Vicky, they ve got to dig if they re going to 
 fool the old man," he asseverated. They may 
 think the old man ain t up to snuff those fellows 
 who feel their oats just a bit may. But, Vicky, 
 the old man has saved a few tricks yet keeps 
 em up his sleeve for the special benefit of smart 
 Alecs. The old man worms in until he reaches 
 the inside of whatever he goes into; they can t 
 lose him, those fellows. All games are one game, 
 Vicky, politics like the rest, and if a man can play 
 
 402
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 one, he can play another. Watch me play at poli 
 tics, when I get out among em, Vicky, watch 
 me!" 
 
 She inquired what he thought of The Pundit s 
 exposure of the Electrical Consolidated scheme; 
 would it operate to defeat the Senator s reelec 
 tion? 
 
 " I don t know, Vicky, that ain t in my line," 
 he answered, his eyes glittering. " There s one 
 thing, though, and that you can hold to every 
 thing s going to be brought to bear to push him 
 through. No skull-duggery s going to be allowed 
 and that it sha n t, I m going to be on the spot 
 to see." 
 
 " Do you think Walter will pull through? " 
 
 " How should I know? But I m going to hint 
 to him that the Senator s the main tent in this cir 
 cus and that he s a side-show." 
 " The special train traveled westward at great 
 speed. It climbed the Berkshires and crossed the 
 Hudson. It rolled New York state s length 
 through, the gateway of a continent. It sighted 
 Lake Erie and whirled across the Indiana prairies. 
 It took the curve of Michigan s blunt end and 
 bored into the smoky pall that sits upon Chicago. 
 
 Although the two were singularly devoted, it 
 happened that they had not been alone together 
 on a journey for years. The chance delighted 
 J. J. J.; he talked and talked. 
 
 403
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " It s my innings, I guess," is what he said, 
 and hours long he showed her things as he saw 
 them ; all day long did he discourse, pointing out 
 what they went by. 
 
 She saw cities on rivers and on lakes and on 
 railways ; she saw tracks and factories and wharves 
 and grain elevators; she saw, or divined, in detail 
 and in whole, the movements of commerce and the 
 output of industry 7 . She saw the enormity of the 
 thing; she perceived, vaguely, the epic it consti 
 tuted for J. J. J. And, interested, she pressed 
 him for accounts of his own schemes; she asked 
 for a sketch of his plans in the West. And, lo, 
 she was deluged with railways and mines, new 
 cities and great ocean steamers, the conquest of 
 the Pacific and the trade with Alaska and the 
 East. 
 
 She was stunned, But her imagination took 
 wings. She wondered why all these years she had 
 been so stupid. To employ a vulgar term, Uncle 
 Johnny had figured always in her mind as " the 
 provider," and that, besides, he constituted the 
 refuge she had against all her disillusions did not 
 render him, in her eyes, less prosaic. True, he 
 had talked to her before, but either she had not 
 heard or else he had not talked as he did now. 
 Now, she felt, she was admitted a space into his 
 mind: it was like standing just inside the door 
 way, watching the dynamos, the engines, the gigan- 
 
 404
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 tic wheels, the delicate mechanism, the thrust of 
 steel arms, and feeling under one s feet the throb 
 of the titanic force of the whole. 
 
 Thence she passed to some comprehension of 
 his patriotism, whose intensity she had been wont 
 to attribute to the fact of his primitiveness, to his 
 lack of " culture." She got his point of view: she 
 understood how America was the greatest country 
 of the earth to him: why he scorned "dudes" 
 and could not be induced to visit her at Newport; 
 why, also, he was interested in a steel-mill more 
 than in a picture and in a city of men more than 
 in a drama; how it was the possibilities of Niag 
 ara, as power harnessed and delivered, should set 
 him in a quiver. 
 
 So, seeing with his eyes, she saw America in 
 reality for the first time in her life. The spectacles 
 of " culture," those of pseudo-refinement, of " so 
 ciety," were lifted from her nose. That journey 
 had displayed before her the most modern of de 
 velopments, the most enormous and complex ma 
 terial movement in history the activity of the 
 lakes and seaboard, on a line from New York to 
 Chicago. And the master-mind, the great man, 
 the true hero of the age, was an old man, gnome- 
 shapen, big-eared, with grayish-streaked, straight 
 hair, who sat near her and interpreted the signs 
 to her, as the train glided past towns and chimneys 
 and power-houses and depots and plants. 
 
 405
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 The new revelation explained much. It ex 
 plained her own unconfessed condemnation of 
 what Newport represented, which she had never 
 been able to justify in words. Newport was a 
 perversion, an exotic. The Japanese use the tree s 
 force to grow monstrously shaped fruit; so New 
 port, with all the strength of America to use, re 
 fuses to express the true bloom and fragrance of 
 the plant, but distorts itself into a hybrid imitation 
 of an alien fruit a fruit, moreover, that is rotting 
 on the feudal tree, an infirm tree of an inferior 
 species. 
 
 "Family" summed up the perversion; it was 
 the fetish of " society." Its reiteration before 
 this had bored Mrs. Corlis insufferably; with her 
 new lights, she wondered why wealth and power 
 should possess this shame of itself and insist on 
 borrowing a skirt of " family " to drape itself in. 
 Were not wealth and power sufficient; was not 
 the modern man to the feudal man as a skilled 
 craftsman to a ditch-digger? The maker of rail 
 ways, the master of electricity, the creator of 
 " trusts," hardly needed mediaeval castles and pen 
 nons and crests. The idea should occasion a smile. 
 
 Family! America hitherto had not cherished 
 families; she developed men men the most fore 
 handed, ingenious, determined, the world had ever 
 seen. It was a new type, the modern type, the 
 dominating type. Yet Newport apologized to 
 
 406
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Europe for America, deplored the crudity, the 
 newness. 
 
 New ? Nay, it was an original departure Amer 
 ica had made. Realist, the word Chris Ruggles had 
 used, recurred to her mind. That was it, Ameri 
 cans were realists, more than merely practical. 
 As religion, or glory, or grace had formed the 
 ideal for old-world civilizations, so science was 
 the sovereign most potent in America. Her in 
 stitutions fostered realism; the impedimenta of 
 other nations had dropped at the beginning. 
 America marched free. The traditional tyrannies, 
 the absurdities of word and custom were abol 
 ished : neither churches nor castes nor the abstrac 
 tions that frightened fools a thousand years, had 
 captured the logical thought-factories of pedants 
 and doctrinaires, and secured the loyalty and as 
 sent of ignorance, existed here. But the attain 
 ments of great men, the teaching of sages, the 
 aspirations of truth-lovers, were all garnered here. 
 Such were common possessions. 
 
 The aristocracy of the mind of the world had 
 entered into the composition of America, had 
 brought democracy to birth. One nation had been 
 forged by an unjust conqueror, another by a mud 
 dle headed priest, a third by a subtle-lying diplo 
 mat. But America, untrammeled, sane, realistic, 
 grounded on foundations more sound than any 
 
 407
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 that ever yet upheld a nation, would overwhelm 
 the world and touch the stars at last. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis did not stop to see her husband in 
 Chicago, although J. J. J. himself did. She went 
 on in the car " Victoria " to find her father, down 
 the state. 
 
 408
 
 XLIV 
 
 ONE-MAN POWER 
 
 THE crowds that listened to Senator Dawes 
 the last fortnight of the campaign, saw al 
 ways, near the speaker, sitting, in fact, next 
 the chair from which he had arisen, a woman 
 with white hair and intense dark eyes. They called 
 her a " lady." They noted with what interest, 
 even anxiety, she followed the speaker; how her 
 solicitous gaze never left him and how her look 
 cheered, whenever the orator scored a telling point 
 to which the audience responded with applause. 
 At such moments, very often, in the enforced in 
 terval while his voice was useless against the up 
 roar, the Senator would be seen to half turn and 
 search for her eyes. He would smile w r hen he 
 found them, and she might smile, or even nod, 
 in response, or sometimes her beautiful eyes would 
 fill quickly and two drops would course down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 It was a touching bit of by-play, and the cynics 
 affirmed that it " worked." The crowd generally 
 knew who she was, or were informed; they had 
 read in their papers that their old Uncle Simeon s 
 daughter, the brilliant Mrs. Corlis, had journeyed 
 
 409
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 from Newport to travel with her father, while he 
 stumped the state; they had heard of her private 
 car which she had put at her father s disposal; and 
 they knew she was there to take care of the Sena 
 tor and to see that he took care of himself. The 
 sight of such filial devotion touched their senti 
 ment ; unquestionably it made voters. Was it not 
 pathetic the old man overcoming his age to. 
 battle manfully with his enemies, while his devoted 
 only daughter hung upon his words and watched 
 vigilantly for the signs of exhaustion. 
 
 When a speech was finished, she was the first 
 upon her feet, by his side, asking how he felt, 
 holding his hands. She would make him sit down 
 at once, or even insist that he be driven immedi 
 ately to the hotel or the car. When he shook 
 hands, standing to receive all who filed past him, 
 she always stood next him, on the left hand; she 
 was cordial to saint and sinner alike they all had 
 votes but she kept an eye on her father even 
 while she received or dispensed a compliment. 
 The Senator, at such times, appeared old-fash 
 ioned and homely, abrupt and awkward, but ex 
 uded from every pore the pure milk of human 
 kindness. Only as he pronounced the words, 
 " My daughter," did pride stiffen his manner; 
 then the plain citizen, who had been flattered or 
 conciliated by the old man s unassuming cordial 
 ity, owned himself completely conquered by the 
 
 410
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 distinguished woman s queenly condescension. 
 Thus was the bird potted twice. 
 
 Truth to tell, Mrs. Corlis walked into popu 
 larity or notoriety without knowing it; she be 
 came one of the u features " of the campaign. 
 She was plainly garbed in gray, a gray traveling 
 gown and a gray hat with a gray feather. She 
 looked rather tired and her long face was thin; 
 only the dark eyes showed her interest they and 
 the eager bend of her tall figure towards her 
 father as he spoke. Indeed, some pathos joined 
 them, the father and daughter perhaps the 
 shadow of the Unknown which lay upon them 
 both; nor was the wary old politician slow to use 
 and to heighten subtly the effect. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis by the end of the first week felt re 
 lieved; she was convinced that the tide was run 
 ning strongly with her father. The crowds were 
 so immense and the enthusiasm so fervent that she 
 found it impossible to associate such portents with 
 defeat. However, she was aware that the Senator 
 was not sanguine; he seemed to realize the neces 
 sity for desperate fighting to the last hour of the 
 campaign. 
 
 " No, daughter," he admitted, " there s noth 
 ing in sight to complain of. But you must remem 
 ber the cheers of the crowds are not the ballots of 
 the people, necessarily. The other fellow is never 
 
 411
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 beaten until the day of election is over, and mebbe 
 not then." 
 
 " But they all seem to know you; they are so 
 fond and so proud of you, Pater." 
 
 His fine head was thrown back a moment, just 
 as a war-horse in action may arch his proud neck. 
 Yet he said sadly, " Ah, I wonder, I wonder. 
 At times it seems like the old days. But it isn t. 
 And mebbe I am not abreast of the times per 
 haps I ought to be dead. This is a new genera 
 tion I m addressing; a new generation with new 
 needs, new aspirations, new prejudices, Vicky." 
 
 He looked askance at her, wistfully, to discover 
 if in her mind she could deny that truth. 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 " Well, if you do not understand them, Pater, 
 who does? I hardly fancy Boss McBride can, or 
 or Walter either." 
 
 " There s Ransom," she started at the name 
 " he may." 
 
 The Senator was pacing the motionless car. 
 
 " I read Randolph s speeches each morning; 
 and it has struck me, do you know, that while I 
 am talking about the past, he is talking about the 
 future. We may pull ourselves through by the 
 skin of our teeth this time but, Vicky," he 
 stopped to turn to her directly, " Ransom has us, 
 and he knows it. This campaign is more than 
 
 412
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 likely to make him the Democratic nominee for 
 President two years from now." 
 
 The old man shook his head. 
 They say Ransom s a practical politician," he 
 mused aloud; " so was Lincoln, and Lincoln was 
 defeated two years before he was nominated." 
 
 However, the sight of the crowds had con 
 vinced Mrs. Corlis that all was well; nor was she 
 troubled about the future, if only she could see her 
 father reflected this time. But the Senator had 
 interested her doubly in Governor Ransom, and 
 she went to Christopher Ruggles to learn more. 
 The reporter had just joined them for The Pundit, 
 having previously been well over the state with the 
 Governor. 
 
 What I think, Mrs. Corlis, I have put in The 
 Pundit," Chris answered. " As I have said all 
 along, 1 believe the people are stirred up to the 
 depths this time." 
 
 " But how do you account for the enthusiasm 
 we encounter? " she persisted. 
 
 "If the issue were simply whether Senator 
 Dawes is to be returned to the Senate, there could 
 be but one outcome," he said, frankly. " But it is 
 a much more involved question than merely the 
 great hold the Senator has upon the people of Illi 
 nois." 
 
 Mrs. Corlis experienced a rare moment of petu 
 lance.
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " I can t believe it; I can see for myself," she 
 said, tapping a foot. 
 
 " Excuse me," begged Chris, a pained look in 
 his honest eyes. 
 
 Magnanimity flooded back into her face. 
 
 " Ah, it is I who am at fault; I beg your par 
 don, Chris. Do I not know you are sincere and 
 that you never flatter? How susceptible the most 
 earnest of us are and how we all do dislike plain 
 truth. But tell me, is Governor Ransom satisfied 
 for himself?" 
 
 " I do not know. When the man is not a whirl 
 wind, he s a sphinx." 
 
 " But are his meetings enthusiastic like ours? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Even more so? " 
 
 " At least quite as much so." 
 
 Chris showed both his reluctance to confess the 
 truth under this inquisition, and his aversion to 
 coloring the truth falsely. Mrs. Corlis laughed. 
 
 " Chris, I think I will learn for myself. Can 
 you take me some night to one of his meetings? 
 Let me see, he speaks for the last time in Peoria 
 next Saturday night; we speak there in the after 
 noon at the Fair Grounds, and he speaks in the 
 evening at the Rink." 
 
 It was a crisp autumn night; but the dense 
 crowd in the Rink had fouled the air. A cloud of 
 tobacco smoke drifted through the vast enclosed 
 
 414
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 space above the vociferous heads of the sovereign 
 voters of America. Ruggles had secured seats in 
 the box reserved for " The Press," and therein 
 Mrs. Corlis was seated, not ten feet from the low 
 platform, nor much above the plane of the presid 
 ing chairman s head. 
 
 Governor Ransom had been speaking for half 
 an hour. At the moment he was sketching the 
 early history of America, summing up, in his own 
 fashion, some aspects of the Revolution. He was 
 saying, 
 
 " It is a mistake to suppose the Revolution the 
 mere revolt of oppressed ignorance, the revenge 
 of the vile, the retaliation of tortured wretches; 
 our Revolution was no French Revolution. No, 
 the Republic was conceived in the womb of wis 
 dom and delivered through the pangs of the pur 
 est and loftiest of mankind. A race of freemen, 
 who from time immemorial had been free, who 
 were led by philosophers and sages, resolved to 
 put into granite, to embody in sovereign institu 
 tions what was in their mind and of their bone, 
 what was their ideal, what seemed to them abso 
 lute justice and eternal freedom. Our Republic is 
 the evolution of the centuries; is the consumma 
 tion of mankind s best thought and truest aspira 
 tion; is the approximation to the visions of great 
 men from Plato the Athenian to Milton the Puri 
 tan." 
 
 415 
 
 27 +
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Mrs. Corlis, where she listened, had presented 
 to her eyes the profile of the orator. The face 
 was deadly thin, worn down by the work of the 
 campaign and by the passion of his oratory. But 
 the wasting had erased the last lines of excess and 
 smoothed the swellings of dissipation; the purifi 
 cation of great chastisement and the responsibility 
 of a great undertaking had both clarified the fea 
 tures and illumined the expression. The tall fig 
 ure was slighter and its bones seemed more visi 
 ble ; the long arms worked like pistons as he spoke. 
 Yet somehow the man was beautiful; the profile s 
 delicate hardness was cut like a classic cameo, and 
 the irritable dark eyes glowed, occasionally flashed 
 into flame. 
 
 Ransom was lifted involuntarily, as it were, by 
 the swell of the great subject with which he dealt; 
 for two minutes he was splendid; for one mo 
 ment, divine. As he recited the glory and beauty 
 of the Republic his speech, perforce, became re 
 fined; the vernacular gave place to the classical; 
 the sentences of Cicero and Chatham and Web 
 ster were reborn. The poet in the man, and the 
 angel, which she knew were there, transformed his 
 poor utterance and transfigured his meagre form. 
 He veritably lifted the multitude with himself to 
 the crest of his inspiration. The last words fur 
 rowed the mind, and lingered in the ear: 
 
 " The Republic is the sweetest hope of human- 
 416
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ity; its existence atones for the past, is the dawn 
 of the future! " 
 
 The orator paused, shaken with his own thun 
 der. There were cheers cataracts of cheers. In 
 the midst of that pandemonium his circling glance 
 crossed the gaze of the woman it seemed to her 
 his eyes flashed recognition, pride of triumph a 
 moment, then alienation and sadness or something 
 akin. But an instant; for he turned and stalked 
 along the front of the platform to the farther end, 
 seeking an opening to begin afresh. But the 
 crowd would not have it; applause renewed itself 
 and increased; the people bawled forth their en 
 dorsement. 
 
 But that brief moment had sufficed. In it Mrs. 
 Corlis was convinced that she had seen through 
 the windows into the dark privacy of a lonely soul. 
 At least, so she thought. She realized his life and 
 she pitied him. He had suffered for years what 
 only intensity such as his suffers and endures; he 
 had been proudly solitary, abjectly forlorn, deso 
 late and desperate at heart. That life struggle of 
 his had been silent and constant and grim; it had 
 made him bitter and unbelieving and hard; utter 
 loneliness had driven him to gambling and drink, 
 rendered him perverse, engaged him in wrong 
 causes, enlisted him in forlorn hopes. As Uncle 
 Johnny had observed at the Convention, it was 
 nerves; he must forget himself, strain his facul-
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ties so far that consciousness ceased to ache. To 
 achieve that it needed whisky or poker or a cam 
 paign such as this. 
 
 So the woman interpreted after woman s fash 
 ion, romantically. 
 
 Meantime, Ransom had settled to another 
 tack: 
 
 " Our Republic," he cried, " so great as it is, in 
 its beginning, its aspirations, its achievements, its 
 yet further promise, is now sordidly menaced. 
 The South once manfully assailed it, hammered it 
 heroically and honorably. The warfare of brave 
 men it could resist. Can it resist the conspiracy of 
 cowards, the undermining of money-changers, the 
 corruption of Shylocks? That is the question! " 
 
 The man was again transformed, become a de 
 mon. The eyes glared with hate; the thin, flexi 
 ble lips curled back like a dog s in his fury. Every 
 muscle in his face was awork, the mask which had 
 been as the calm sublimity of a bust of Augustus, 
 become now a writhing confusion of passions let 
 loose. He hit right and left. The crowd liked it 
 well. He left argument and abstractions; he ig 
 nored party and program to reach home to the 
 men who ruled the party and proposed the pro 
 gram. Personalities were his theme; nor did he 
 spare Senator Dawes this time, but imputed blunt 
 ly to the latter the cowardice of old age and the 
 
 418
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 willingness to compromise characteristic of the 
 confirmed office-holder. 
 
 " Behold," Ransom cried, " the friend and pu 
 pil of Lincoln become the Senatorial page of J. J. 
 Jarrett, Esquire ! What a fall is there, my coun 
 trymen ! " 
 
 Then, with a sneer, he named W. H. D. Corlis. 
 The building itself quaked beneath the explosion 
 of howls, hisses and execrations. 
 
 Ruggles screamed close to Mrs. Corlis ear, 
 
 " Had we not better get out before we get 
 caught in the crowd at the end? " 
 
 She nodded assent. 
 
 She leaned back in the darkness of the carriage 
 gratefully. Her escort left her alone; he fancied 
 her deeply hurt and would give her time to re 
 cover her poise. 
 
 But what she was thinking, or rather feeling, 
 he could not have surmised. 
 
 " What a man, what a waste ! So much power, 
 so much intellect, so much passion, gone but to 
 furnish another demagogue ! Would it still have 
 been so, I wonder, had it been different? Could 
 a woman have kept him sane, could she have 
 pruned him, held him, made the best master in 
 him could she, some woman he loved, the 
 woman he loved? As it is, he has been a mere 
 lonely rebel all his life, when he was designed for 
 a great, positive force. Ah, me, I wonder how 
 
 419
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 much of that s true, and would I, if I had life to 
 live over, would I choose differently? How I do 
 pity him! But life it is bound to be a tragedy, 
 no matter what in it we choose." 
 
 The carriage had already approached the hotel 
 before Mrs. Corlis, emerging from her reverie, 
 spoke to Ruggles. 
 
 4 Thank you, Chris. You have convinced me; 
 it is a wave. There s small chance for opportunist 
 politics, when opposed to such original force as 
 we ve just seen." 
 
 " I am sorry for you, Mrs. Corlis," said the re 
 porter, moved by he knew not what sympathy. 
 
 Yes, Chris," she placed a hand on his arm, 
 "yes, but it was a mighty exhibition, was it not? 
 For myself, I never knew what one-man power 
 amounted to before." 
 
 " You should not underestimate the force of 
 the wave he rides, Mrs. Corlis. It is not all Gov 
 ernor Ransom." 
 
 420
 
 XLV 
 
 A SNEAKING CHIVALRY 
 
 MRS. CORLIS on her arrival at the hotel 
 changed her gown for a dressing robe be 
 fore she sought her father in the room ad 
 joining her own. 
 
 She found him gay, or at any rate, superficially 
 so; glad because responsibility was over and the 
 active campaign closed. If he concealed an anx 
 iety concerning the issue of the next Tuesday, for 
 the hour, at least, the Senator was as playful in 
 mood as a boy newly let loose from school. 
 
 He talked of Primrose Hill and of nothing 
 else. They were going down to the place next 
 morning, intending to spend there the intervening 
 days until the election had been determined. He 
 joked about it as " the Sabine farm." He quoted 
 Horace. He babbled of the river, his green crops 
 and the old dogs. He would not hear of politics. 
 
 A knock upon the door. 
 
 " If that s any danged politician, Vicky, I m 
 asleep or something equally as good." 
 
 His daughter nodded as she glided across the 
 room. She shut the door again, turning the key. 
 
 " Only an envelope, Pater, with your name on 
 421
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 it." She balanced it on her hand. " Let us wait 
 until morning to open it." 
 
 " I guess I ll see what it s like," said the Sena 
 tor. He took the long yellow envelope she 
 brought to him. " Umph, this is marked Imme 
 diate and Important. I wonder if it just is or 
 just isn t," he added whimsically. 
 
 " Of course not," Mrs. Corlis decided. Some 
 how she occultly feared the envelope. " It s just 
 some nothing, some office-seeker, some big bore, 
 anyhow. We ll let it go until morning, or until 
 after election." 
 
 Senator Dawes sighed resignedly. 
 
 " I hope it is not some summons that will spoil 
 our vacation, at all events, Vicky. It may be im 
 portant; I ll just dispose of it." 
 
 He tore open the envelope and extracted a sheet 
 of yellow telegraph paper. He read, and his 
 daughter read with him, over his shoulder: 
 
 " Christopher Ruggles, 
 
 " Harpster Hotel, Peoria. 
 
 "Pundit publishes Sunday verified story of Cor- 
 lis-McBride conspiracy to knife legislative ticket 
 in Chicago and state to aid head of ticket. Show 
 Senator Dawes immediately. 
 
 (Signed) " MACPHERSON." 
 
 Both stared dumfounded at the yellow sheet. 
 At last she put a firm hand on his shoulder and 
 asked as steadily as she could: 
 
 422
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Do you believe it is possible, Pater; can it be 
 true?" 
 
 " Mac never lies knowingly," was the succinct 
 response. 
 
 " But he may be mistaken occasionally." 
 
 "He s never mistaken; that s the joke of it." 
 The Senator laughed, a dry, hard, small laugh. 
 
 " But you can t believe you can t think, that 
 Walter could consent to such a low-down trick 
 against you." 
 
 He freed his shoulder from her hand and got 
 upon his feet. 
 
 " Oh, there s nothing so mean that men will not 
 do it." He shook himself irritably. " I ve been 
 forty years in politics, and do you suppose I retain 
 any illusions about men? " He began abruptly to 
 pace the room. " Honor or obligation they are 
 things men believe in before an exigency tries 
 them, and then they are things men prate about as 
 they do of their lost youth and their lost love." 
 
 " But, father, you are saying terrible things." 
 
 " So I am," he declared recklessly; then he 
 added more softly: "but you must bear, Vic 
 toria, with a beaten old man." He stopped and 
 she saw his face it was ashen and hollow and bit 
 terly ashamed. " The truth must out some time, 
 and, if a man will but study them long enough, he 
 will come to have no more belief in his fellows 
 than he has in himself." 
 
 423
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 At that he set off again to walk the room; his 
 head sagged down to his breast and his lips 
 twitched. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis stood rooted behind the chair in 
 which he had read the telegram. She leaned on 
 its back and stared with unseeing eyes. 
 
 Presently the Senator resumed speaking, al 
 though he did not stop in his walk, but on the con 
 trary augmented the rate of his steps. 
 
 You went to hear Ransom to-night, Victoria ? 
 I guessed it. Tell me, what did he say? Did he 
 attack me personally? I surmised he might have 
 said something bitter from the way you acted 
 when you came back. What was it? he did not 
 impugn my honor or charge that I had broken my 
 word or anything of that sort, did he? " 
 
 " Why, father" 
 
 " You may as well tell me the round truth, Vic 
 toria." 
 
 " He did attack you. I fancy you would call it 
 that. I did not stay to hear all he said, but as 
 much as I heard was much more against Walter 
 than against you. No, he did not even imply any 
 thing of the kind you suggest." 
 
 Senator Dawes emitted a great sigh of relief. 
 
 " Good, good ! " he muttered. Then he ex 
 plained: " I ve always regarded Randolph, had 
 an affection for him, in fact, something as if he 
 were my own son. And he might have imagined 
 
 424
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 to tell the truth he s had ample excuse for imag 
 ining you see, I promised him at Primrose Hill 
 I d let him know, I d tell him if there was, or was 
 to be, any corporation franchise scheme behind 
 Corlis nomination. And he learned there was 
 from The Pundit, not from me. I ve been in poli 
 tics most a lifetime, and, the Lord knows, a fellow 
 can t be squeamish; but I d hate to have Ran 
 dolph Ransom think I lied to him. Ransom never 
 lied to his friends that s one thing he never did." 
 
 He dropped himself mournfully into a chair 
 and drooped his venerable head. 
 
 His daughter watched pityingly, too absorbed 
 in her pity to think of asking questions. 
 
 " Cheer up," she bade after a bit. " We ll go 
 up to Chicago to-morrow, father. Uncle Johnny 
 is there and he ll straighten things out for us. His 
 heart s set on your reelection and when we tell 
 him, he will find out the truth, and we ll let him 
 deal with Walter and Mr. McBride." 
 
 Senator Dawes looked up surprised, but with 
 face partly cleared. 
 
 " Oh, if you say so, Victoria, your uncle will 
 put the screws on that combination as.no one else 
 
 can." 
 
 " Then he shall, father." 
 
 In the morning, however, Senator Dawes de 
 clared he meant to go to Primrose Hill instead of 
 to Chicago; he had changed his mind overnight. 
 
 425
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 If Victoria still thought it would do any good, she 
 could go on herself to the city; indeed, it might 
 be she would have more influence with her uncle 
 alone. As for himself, the Senator was satisfied 
 he was beaten; he was convinced MacPherson s 
 news was authentic, and the chances were ninety- 
 nine out of a hundred that it was now too late to 
 reverse the engine, even if Corlis and McBride 
 were to be persuaded or coerced into attempting 
 it. MacPherson had always treated him with re 
 spect, said the Senator, and the editor had meant 
 him a kindness by sending him a warning to stand 
 out from under. 
 
 The inducements which had decided him to this 
 course seemed sufficiently plausible; yet Mrs. 
 Corlis was puzzled by an odd change in her fath 
 er s demeanor. She caught him at intervals steal 
 ing anxious glances at her, as if he wished to dis 
 cover, furtively, whether she possessed either 
 knowledge or an opinion of something what, she 
 could not define. 
 
 One of his first questions had been : 
 " Vicky, have you seen the morning papers? " 
 " Why, Pater, you know I seldom read the pa 
 pers," she had answered in surprise. Was it 
 fancy, or did he look relieved? 
 
 The car " Victoria " they found at the station 
 ready to be attached to the morning train for Chi 
 cago, when the latter arrived. Senator Dawes 
 
 426
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 meant to go with his daughter as far as Ottawa, 
 where he would take a branch road for Primrose 
 Hill. 
 
 Airs. Corlis seated herself aboard the car at an 
 open window. She liked the crisp autumn air and 
 she could watch her father on the far end of the 
 platform, surrounded by a little knot of sympa 
 thetic politicians. To her they seemed rather dis 
 consolate. She felt sick at heart; on that radiant 
 Sunday morning politics seemed to her inexpressi 
 bly dirty. She surmised, philosophically, that busi 
 ness was quite as much so when viewed from 
 within, and she, herself, had experienced kindred 
 disgusts about society. This morning, however, 
 politics appeared worse than any other of the hu 
 man activities, more base, more reptilian. Besides 
 disgust there was anger, concrete and active. She 
 had borne all things from her husband; this she 
 would not bear. She w r ould not sit quiet w r hile he 
 played the smug traitor to her father; she would 
 appeal directly to Uncle Johnny and have him set 
 matters right with a high hand. 
 
 Was not that Chris Ruggles whom she spied 
 yonder on the platform, standing by himself and 
 watching the movement? No doubt he had come 
 do\vn to the station to see if her father got off on 
 the train without incident. Catching his eye final 
 ly, she beckoned him, and as he came forward she 
 smiled her pleasure; his honest plainness, his open 
 
 427
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 eyes, seemed so good to her, so sound and beauti 
 ful. A draught of spring water is elixir after a 
 night of wine. 
 
 " Do you believe it, Chris? " 
 
 She referred to the telegram he had sent up to 
 them last night in the hotel. 
 
 " I am afraid I can t believe otherwise, Mrs. 
 Corlis," he answered. 
 
 " How is our Valkyr? " she asked suddenly. 
 
 A painful flush suffused all his rugged face be 
 tween his brown hair and reddish beard. 
 
 " I hardly know," he said reluctantly; " I have 
 not seen her for months." 
 
 Divination enlightened her in a flash. 
 
 " You do not mean, Chris, since the time The 
 Pundit exposed the Electric Consolidated scheme? 
 You did not quarrel because you warned me? " 
 
 " No, Mrs. Corlis, it was not that," he stam 
 mered. Then unable to say more he looked up in 
 her face with what woe in his eyes, what misery, 
 what heart-loneliness. 
 
 " Chris, my poor boy," she murmured impul 
 sively. 
 
 " Oh," he burst forth, " you don t know what I 
 suffer. I don t know what to think, much less to 
 do." 
 
 " Do? Why, go back to her be a man ! " she 
 bade instantly. " If you suffer, think of her, how 
 
 428
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 much must she suffer. Chris, she is worse oft than 
 you." 
 
 " How can I, Mrs. Corlis? Is there any man 
 would? " Again he expressed his bare soul in his 
 eyes. " It s true I love her; I ve found that out. 
 But, as you guess you may know I ve I ve 
 learned about her it s her past, years ago in her 
 past." 
 
 "Chris, do not judge don t dare judge!" 
 She reached her hand from the window to clasp 
 his own. " Who are you to arraign any woman 
 you, a man? The people who framed the morali 
 ties, I m sure, Chris, never were men of the 
 world; a heaven they might have known, but this 
 earth, never." 
 
 He struck the toe of his solid shoe against a 
 crack in the boards of the platform. 
 
 " As a generalization," he said, perplexed in his 
 soreness, "that s all very well, Mrs. Corlis; but 
 it hardly reaches when when one s self is a spe 
 cific case." 
 
 " Chris," she ventured boldly, " you know who 
 I am the wife of the man who you know what 
 I mean." 
 
 He quivered and gave her a tortured look. 
 
 " Yet you trust me, despite that ; you confide 
 all. Why?" 
 
 " Because you can be trusted; because you are 
 singularly noble and true." 
 
 429
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Yet I am all, am I not, that you naturally con 
 demn. I am rich, I am fashionable, I am frivo 
 lous, not to mention whose name I bear or whose 
 ambition I forward or what business I manage." 
 
 " Nevertheless, Mrs. Corlis, you and she are 
 the noblest souls I have ever known in this world." 
 
 " There, you ve confessed it, Chris. I know 
 this world, I ve had experience, if ever a woman 
 in America has had. And I tell you, Chris, it is 
 not a man s or a woman s innocence or sin, their 
 repentance or their downfall, their alleged saint 
 hood or their apparent criminality, not even what 
 they ve done or will do it s themselves that 
 count. As people are born they remain, I ve 
 found out nothing cures them, nothing debases 
 them. A mean soul is a mean soul perpetually; a 
 noble soul is elect, yes, even if it has been dragged 
 in the mire and broken under the wheels of this 
 world." 
 
 He had listened reverently, but now he looked 
 up with a smile, and half timidly ventured, 
 
 " That, Mrs. Corlis, is John Calvin modern 
 ized." 
 
 " I don t know and I don t care, Chris Ruggles. 
 It may not be found in the Scriptures, but it is 
 eternal truth torn from the hard stone of life by 
 my own bleeding fingers." 
 
 This deliverance she had flashed. She added 
 more softly, 
 
 430
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 
 
 " Go back to that sorrowing woman, Chris 
 Ruggles go back, if ever you want to be more 
 than a prig or a slave to a code for the code s 
 sake. Remember, Chris, what I say, for it is pos 
 sible you may not see me again." 
 
 " Oh, I hope not," began Chris confusedly. 
 
 There is Governor Ransom," she interrupted. 
 " Is he leaving this morning, too? " 
 
 Yes, he is going down to Egypt," explained 
 the reporter. " He will go through as much of it 
 as possible like a whirlwind Monday. I m going 
 along for The Pundit." 
 
 " Chris, you know him go ask him to step 
 here a moment tell him Mrs. Corlis wants to 
 speak to him." 
 
 The Governor was joking with a knot of ad 
 mirers in a characteristically undignified manner. 
 She saw him turn abruptly w r hen Chris spoke, and 
 she fancied that a look of rather dismayed surprise 
 appeared in his face. Immediately he excused 
 himself to his friends. The reporter pointed out 
 the car to him and he walked towards her. Al 
 though he passed Senator Dawes and that group 
 within ten feet, no salutations were exchanged. 
 
 Governor Ransom approached the car window 
 with a smile that was a grin on his worn face. 
 She suspected it was for a mask. The dark eyes, 
 shot with steel blue, she saw were curious. She 
 noticed, also, how completely gray the hair above 
 
 28 431
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 the high temples had turned since she had seen 
 him last. 
 
 " How d do, Mrs. Corlis," he greeted her in 
 homely fashion. " It seems to have turned out 
 some different from what we expected, but that 
 can t be helped, I guess." 
 
 The thin lips quivered humorously, and it was 
 evident that he offered her a share in his ironic 
 appreciation of the disposal of events. 
 
 She refused. With the instinct of a woman she 
 would reduce him to gravity. 
 
 " I heard you last night, Governor Ransom," 
 she said. 
 
 " Well, you didn t hear much but growls then, 
 Mrs. Corlis," he smiled. " The people like cheap 
 thunder, and we have to furnish it, you know." 
 
 " Don t," she said, as if his lack of seriousness 
 hurt. She added, " I wished to say to you what 
 I feel it was the most remarkable speech I ever 
 heard." 
 
 " Now, now," he chided drolly, " that s laying 
 it on pretty thick. I only can hope you weren t af 
 fected by my personalities it s reached the mud- 
 slinging stage in this campaign usually does 
 about this far off from election day, you know." 
 His eyes twinkled, his face puckered he was en 
 deavoring to carry it off facetiously. " We ora 
 tors," he swelled his chest, " we orators, you 
 know, revile each other like lawyers before a jury, 
 
 432
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 and then go out and take a drink together. 5 He 
 chuckled at the ludicrousness of the idea and the 
 bones of his long frame wrapped themselves up in 
 a grotesque bunch. 
 
 Mrs. Corlis smiled a bit in reciprocity, but in 
 sisted, 
 
 " That is comical, Governor Ransom, but I am 
 not to be diverted. Seriously, I believe you meant 
 every word you said you were sincere, and that 
 is why, for the first time in your life, you were 
 truly powerful." 
 
 " It must be so, if you say so," he said sheep 
 ishly, " but I wasn t aware of it myself. I m 
 merely getting fun out of this campaign, between 
 you and me." Again he tried to show his humor. 
 " But here comes my train " 
 
 She leaned out of the car window. As she 
 touched his hand, their eyes for an instant really 
 met. 
 
 " Good-bye, Randolph," she said. 
 
 He flushed at the name. 
 
 " It s been again a pleasure, Victoria," he an 
 swered, and bowing, turned away. Going, he 
 drawled across his shoulder, 
 
 " I forgot to say, I never thought you knew 
 anything about the Electrical Consolidated up at 
 Primrose Hill. Thought I d tell you, when I saw 
 you, so you wouldn t think I might Ve. Good- 
 by." 
 
 433
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 A radiant smile leaped into her eyes, which, 
 when he turned for the last time some fifteen feet 
 away, he saw. All that a look can give in com 
 pensation for a lifetime of endurance, she offered 
 him. 
 
 In return she saw him doff the comedian, saw 
 him stand erect a moment, saw his ravaged face, 
 the tragic eyes, the full spiritual stature of the 
 man. 
 
 He bowed like the Kentucky gentleman he was 
 born. 
 
 434
 
 XLVI 
 
 MR. CORLIS REDUCES ALL MEN TO A LEVEL 
 
 MRS. CORLIS drove first to the Auditor 
 ium Annex, where J. J. J. had taken 
 rooms; but they told her there that Mr. 
 Jarrett had gone up to Lake Geneva the night be 
 fore to stay over election day. 
 
 The news depressed her; she had counted on 
 her Uncle Johnny. She was feeling rather wretch 
 edly anyhow; the strain she had been under was 
 now telling on her, while last night s shock had 
 sensibly hurt her constantly decreasing powers of 
 resistance. Consequently, as she was driven up 
 Michigan Avenue toward her house on the North 
 Side, she yielded to her disconsolance and her 
 sickness. 
 
 It was a little past noon, a fair, fall day, with 
 the semblance of gaiety in its color and aspect, but 
 tinged, somehow, with melancholy fore-knowl 
 edge of winter. The churches were emptying, 
 and, as she looked out through the doors of her 
 carriage, Mrs. Corlis saw well-dressed people 
 sauntering along the sidewalks; there were so 
 many smiles, and such pleasant looks, and all 
 seemed, each in his or her harmless, vain way, so 
 contented and happy. 
 
 435
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 The contrast of her own state with theirs filled 
 her with a dull pain; she even profoundly pitied 
 herself for the nonce. She considered how peace 
 ful, pleasant Sundays would follow one after an 
 other, when she was gone; how people, well-to- 
 do people, would smile and look pleased, just as 
 they were doing now. That she would be dead 
 soon, she felt certain; excitement and new ideas 
 had conspired to make her heedless that summer, 
 but to-day she was forcibly reminded of her doom. 
 
 Who cared for her? Naturally, not the world 
 which she had entertained and consulted and 
 given her most precious possessions, her soul and 
 her time; not the one being to whose ambitions, 
 vainglorious as they were, she had sacrificed the 
 convictions of her heart and her longings for seri 
 ousness and truth; hardly even the few others, 
 whom, incidentally, she had strengthened and 
 helped. Oh, no, she could picture it in advance 
 just as it would be next year at this time. There 
 were her children to grieve for her and to forget 
 her. Her husband well, he might miss her; he 
 would, she had been so serviceable. Yet she could 
 see him clearly just as he would be next year; he 
 loved life so well, though he loved others coldly; 
 his senses were so perfect, so fitted to transmit 
 pleasurable vibrations; he had so much health, 
 such an appetite for living. She could see him en- 
 
 436
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 joying himself dinners and wines and horses and 
 . That stung her. 
 
 She bowed down her head and held her tem 
 ples in her hands. No, only two old men would 
 grieve much for her, only two old men would 
 continue to think of her for the few years that 
 remained to each of them; then she would be 
 forgotten. She could realize the last years of 
 those two old men, also. They would be grayer 
 by this time next year and more bent; their old 
 friendship would have increased through commun 
 ity of sorrow; they would drive much together, 
 perhaps, and sit for hours smoking. Perhaps 
 Uncle Johnny would go down to Primrose Hill, 
 and, for her sake, pat her old dogs on the head, 
 although he did not like dogs. The two old men 
 would possess one staple of talk between them, 
 Vicky s ways, Vicky s wishes, all Vicky s life from 
 the time she was a little girl and their tyrant. 
 
 She reached the great house at last the house 
 of pride, the house she hated. Within, the furni 
 ture was all covered with linen, and the pictures 
 were draped; she felt the aspect was that of a 
 ghost house and she shuddered. The butler in 
 formed her, however, that her own suite was pre 
 pared. Mr. Corlis, she was told, had slept at 
 home; he had just risen and was dressing. She 
 sent him a message and went to her own apart- 
 
 -437
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ments. In a few minutes came Mr. CorhY reply; 
 he asked when she would see him. She sent back 
 word that she would be downstairs in half an 
 hour. 
 
 She paced restlessly up and down in the great 
 hall waiting for him to appear; it irritated her 
 that he should presume to be late. She had put 
 on a very plain walking suit, which had nothing to 
 relieve her pallor. Indeed, she looked ill and un 
 lovely, except for her great, glowing eyes. 
 
 She stopped, while she watched him descend. 
 He came down the wide, carved, wooden stair 
 case, putting down each foot leisurely, gracefully, 
 like some steel-sinewed, delicately-formed cat. 
 His head was high and vigorous, and the proud, 
 strong face, the elegant figure, impressed the sus 
 ceptible woman, as always, with their sheer health 
 and masculine beauty. After the men and the 
 crowds she had mingled with the last two weeks, 
 her husband appeared to her eyes the incompar 
 able aristocrat, the gentleman by right divine. In 
 advance she felt the satisfaction afforded by his 
 absolute flawlessness as a man of the world. 
 
 As he came upon the hall floor, he discovered 
 her and walked forward. He essayed to greet her 
 as usual, as he would welcome the friend he most 
 respected and most trusted; he even stooped, with 
 inimitable ease, over the hand she extended him. 
 But he perceived, in an instant, the change rather 
 in her air than in her manner. 
 
 438
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Oh, come, Victoria," he chided, half in ban 
 ter, half annoyed, " you do not mean still to hold 
 old offenses over my head, I hope. I confide in 
 your generosity. I am delighted to see you, and 
 there is much to tell that will interest you." 
 
 She felt that he was in full possession of his 
 usual confidence, and shall it be said of his 
 good-natured contempt. Moreover, there was a 
 certain charm in the grace with which he dispensed 
 both that affected her, and she was a bit tempted 
 to meet him half way and enjoy an hour of de 
 licious intimacy as his comrade and tried friend. 
 He could be so irresistible. 
 
 But she was stern. 
 
 " Have you seen this morning s Pundit? " she 
 demanded almost immediately. 
 
 The turquoise-hued eyes, so clear and so shal 
 low, shifted for an instant under her glance. 
 
 Yes," he answered, after a pause. You 
 mean McBride and me, I suppose. What do you 
 think of it? " he asked somewhat jauntily. 
 
 I am wondering, Walter, how much of it is 
 true." 
 
 "Will you sit down? No? Well, would it 
 greatly shock you if it were all true? " 
 
 He meant to make light of the matter, but his 
 domineering instinct where his wife was con 
 cerned, appeared, despite himself, in his voice. 
 
 She answered quietly. 
 
 439
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " I did not think Mr. McBride would lend him 
 self to so base a trick. He professed to be my 
 friend." 
 
 " I am sorry for your sake, Victoria," said Mr. 
 Corlis, politely, adding, however, almost brusque 
 ly the demand: " But why do you persist in hold 
 ing men and politicians down to your sentimental 
 conceptions? It is useless; it s absurd for a 
 woman of your knowledge and intelligence. 
 There has never been any sentimental weakness 
 about the Cook County Machine that I m aware 
 of, or for that matter about me. Politics is war, 
 and war s what General Sherman said it was." 
 
 Mr. Corlis looked bored and he also assumed 
 that he was abused and had good cause for of 
 fense. 
 
 But Mrs. Corlis did not change her attitude. 
 
 " Then it is true," she said decisively. " Mr. 
 McBride planned the treachery and you acqui 
 esced." 
 
 "Treachery!" he echoed. "You, Victoria, 
 have played politics yourself; you re no novice." 
 
 He held himself rigidly, but the half-suppressed 
 sneer under his close-cropped mustache was ugly 
 to see. 
 
 She stiffened to her full height and looked him 
 directly in the eye. 
 
 " If McBride and his hoodlums play Irish 
 440
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 tricks, that is one thing," she announced. " But 
 you, sir, are supposably a gentleman, and you 
 break honor, if you betray my father." 
 
 He bowed as if before some unreasonable ca 
 price of an imperious, petted child. With a smile 
 of malice he answered, 
 
 " I might plead in palliation of my treachery, 
 Victoria, the Senator s own high example. I fancy 
 he has about illustrated every known trick in the 
 course of his career; he has deserted many a man 
 at the eleventh hour." 
 
 You are not excused," she said coldly. 
 
 " Have you not read Governor Ransom s 
 speech, also, in The Pundit this morning?" he 
 questioned in retort. 
 
 " I heard part of it," she said. 
 
 Then I recommend you to read the remain 
 der." 
 
 The evil fascination of his insinuation charmed 
 her as the hissing head of a serpent might have 
 done. He took a newspaper from his pocket and 
 unfolded it. 
 
 " Look, here on the first page," he bade. 
 Ransom charges the saintly Senator with lulling 
 him into inaction by false representations, of be 
 guiling him with lies. He declares the Senator 
 knew all the time about the Electrical Consoli 
 dated, and yet the Senator gave the Governor his 
 word at Primrose Hill, nay, wrote it out, that 
 
 441
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 there was no such scheme behind the combination 
 that controlled the Convention." 
 
 " I ll not believe it," gasped Mrs. Corlis. 
 " My father knew nothing of it. It was I who 
 knew, if any one, and I didn t realize it." 
 
 " Good thing you didn t," sneered Corlis, " or 
 you might have stirred Ransom up instead of 
 coaxing him to sit still." 
 
 " You utter brute," she said, shuddering. 
 
 " Well, you see, Victoria, you are no better 
 than us all you get things done, too. As for 
 your reverend parent," he set his square chin firm 
 ly, " Mr. Jarrett wanted your father let in on the 
 ground floor. I didn t like it myself, but Mr. 
 Jarrett insisted. The Senator was offered stock, I 
 know, and I don t know that he refused, though 
 I m willing to do him the justice to say it would be 
 just like his quixotic hypocrisy to refuse." 
 
 She drooped her head and a low moan came 
 through her colorless lips. 
 
 " I don t mean to be too hard on you, Victoria." 
 Mr. Corlis made his sort of amends. " Come, do 
 be a good fellow ; we get on so famously together 
 when you are. You must see there is no use in try 
 ing to jack me up to your reform notions. Every 
 game has its rules. The Senator s scruples I don t 
 believe would allow him to accept stock; but he 
 didn t kick a bit about taking Ransom in. Every 
 man, I ve noticed, is unimpeachable, outside his 
 own game." 442
 
 M 
 
 XLVII 
 
 J. J. J. ISSUES ORDERS 
 
 EBBE you ll condescend to notice me, 
 you re such a noticin feller." 
 
 J. J. J. stepped between the two; he 
 held out his hand to his niece, but he looked 
 straight at Corlis. 
 
 " Uncle Johnny! " she cried in a whisper. 
 
 He turned his great head in her direction, and 
 nodded, reassuringly. 
 
 " Yes, Vicky, I m here to fix things." 
 
 Corlis had not said a word; he had not so 
 much as moved. He believed in Napoleon s 
 maxim about doing nothing when you don t know 
 what to do. Besides, his attention was concen 
 trated upon maintaining an easy posture and an 
 unperturbed exterior in what he foresaw would be 
 a difficult experience. 
 
 J. J. J. turned upon the man a second time. 
 
 " I came down this morning from Wisconsin," 
 he said, in his soft voice. " I saw it in The Pundit 
 and I came down to find out from you." 
 
 "Had you not better ask McBride?" Corlis 
 
 443
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 replied placidly. " He is running the campaign in 
 Chicago; he s responsible." 
 
 " I ask you," said the magnate directly. 
 
 Corlis took two or three steps to the side., but he 
 felt those terribly penetrating eyes following him. 
 
 " If it were true," he contended, " it is not all 
 my funeral." 
 
 " Come up ! " bade J. J. J. following him. 
 11 Don t play the baby act! " He broke into a 
 sudden rage. " By God, I ll have the truth, if I 
 have to tear it out of you." 
 
 He swung his long arms at his side and con 
 fronted Corlis. The great head with its mane, the 
 large ears that stuck out, the wide shoulders and 
 the immense chest, combined to give him a gro 
 tesque but terrible aspect. Had he not been, in 
 deed, so compact a force, so incarnate a power, he 
 had almost seemed ridiculous. As it was Corlis 
 recoiled; that terrific glance cut him to the bone. 
 
 You agreed ; you were privy to the plan ; you 
 played traitor and sneak, you with McBride," 
 shrilled the old man. " By God, is it not so?" 
 The clenched fist in his face made Corlis for a sec 
 ond apprehensive of a blow 7 . 
 
 It was a prolonged moment before he answered 
 in that moment he glanced sidelong at his wife. 
 
 She stood apart, a spectator, her crossed hands 
 gathered at her throat, her head bent forward a 
 trifle, her eyes, under half-fallen lids, mtently 
 
 444
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 watching. He understood in a flash what it was 
 she was watching to observe how he bore the 
 test, to learn if, after all, he were a great man. 
 
 But he had to make answer at once. 
 
 " I suppose it s not far wrong, Mr. Jarrett," he 
 commenced, half apologetically; "there is, no 
 doubt, more or less truth in what The Pundit " 
 
 " Make a plain man a plain answer," J. J. J. 
 ordered, sharply. 
 
 What can I say?" asked Corlis desperately. 
 " As you insist, here is the exact dilemma : Is the 
 whole ticket to go down in total defeat, or may we 
 save a part from the general wreck? Senator 
 Dawes is hopelessly beaten anyhow, and if beaten, 
 it doesn t matter by how much or how little. Mc- 
 Bride and I have been figuring upon some facts as 
 they are, that is all." 
 
 He faced J. J. J. with a quiet smile as he fin 
 ished, as if asking him where lay the fault. 
 
 "You can t flim-flam the old man, Corlis; so 
 quit trying," said J. J. J. unimpressed. u I want 
 none of your explanations; you did the thing; 
 that s all I want to know." 
 
 And he turned his back and went over to his 
 niece. 
 
 I knew there was something loose, Vicky; I 
 told you so on the train. Are you glad to have 
 your old Uncle Johnny on deck here right in 
 time?" 
 
 445
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She leaned her aching head down on the old 
 man s shoulder. She was inexpressibly sad and 
 weary and it was an indescribable boon to be al 
 lowed to give up and to rely on him. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Johnny," she whispered, " you re 
 so strong and so true." 
 
 Corlis felt his isolation, and the whole scene 
 seemed to him rather ridiculous. He wished to 
 end it, to cut short his experience of inferiority. 
 He began an explanation, which if unconvincing, 
 might at least open a way of egress. 
 
 What, pray, do you expect in politics? I only 
 do what they all do. I played for my own hand, 
 which is precisely what the Senator has done all 
 his life and which accounts for his success. Be 
 sides, am I bound to sacrifice all my chances to 
 Senator Dawes, especially when his last chance is 
 gone ? " 
 
 J. J. J. threw up his head. 
 
 " Not bound not bound to this family ! " 
 
 " No, not in that way," demurred Corlis, sulk- 
 ily. 
 
 You re bound in all ways," roared J. J. J. 
 This family made you, took you a clerk and 
 made you somebody. Who are you, anyway? 
 You ve no great ability that I ve ever discovered; 
 you can sit on the top of my wood-pile, but you 
 never could have cut timber yourself; you re too 
 
 446
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 lazy and too plumb ornamental." He would have 
 continued, but his niece s hand stopped his mouth. 
 
 " Nevertheless, I fancy I am still my own mas 
 ter in a few things," said Corlis stubbornly. 
 
 " No, damn you, you ain t," the old man broke 
 out. " You re my man and I ll show you." He 
 shook his clenched fist at Corlis; the other arm 
 was about Mrs. Corlis waist. " You ve needed a 
 good dressing down for a long time and I guess 
 it s come now good and proper. You get into the 
 carriage out there and go hunt up your friend Mc- 
 Bride. Bring him round to the Annex to see me; 
 I ll be there in half an hour. See you get him, if 
 it takes you all day. And bring yourself with 
 him." 
 
 " But suppose he refuses," excepted Corlis, to 
 save himself from the indignity of a prompt obe 
 dience. 
 
 " You put it to him; you know how," directed 
 J. J. J. " You bring him, or I ll hold you re 
 sponsible." 
 
 " But if I refuse to be your messenger?" gasped 
 Corlis, in an excess of vexation. 
 
 " Wish you would," snapped the magnate. 
 " But you re too damned calculating, I guess." 
 And the man of power turned his back on his min 
 ion, his whole attention absorbed in solacing his 
 niece. 
 
 Corlis glared ineffectually at the back of the 
 
 447 
 
 29
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 despot, something like rage convulsing his fea 
 tures. But he sternly composed himself, summon 
 ing his philosophy, instructing himself to be wise, 
 since this one man he could not bully. Almost all 
 others he could. 
 
 " Well, I m off downtown," he finally an 
 nounced, but neither his wife nor her uncle ap 
 peared to hear him. " I ll do as you wish, Mr. 
 Jarrett, though I must say it s not politics, it s 
 woman s folly." 
 
 With which last spiteful speech he went out, 
 like a boy persuading himself he was agreeing to 
 do what he was compelled to do. 
 
 Before J. J. J. departed for the Annex, Mrs. 
 Corlis said pleadingly: 
 
 " Don t be too hard on him, Uncle Johnny; 
 remember, I don t want you to be." 
 
 Mr. Jarrett shook his head. 
 
 "He needs a trimming, Vicky; it ll do him 
 good. It s only his conceit that s going to get 
 hurt any." 
 
 448
 
 I 
 
 XLVIII 
 
 TWO MEN AND A GENTLEMAN 
 
 DEALISTS alone refuse to recognize sover 
 eigns. Even in this early day the practical 
 American, having discovered who is sovereign, 
 uncovers before him; therefore, McBride, when 
 Mr. Corlis brought him to the hotel late in the 
 afternoon, was subdued in his manner, not to say 
 self-deprecatory. 
 
 The magnate did not rise; he did not even offer 
 his hand; he only nodded and motioned to two 
 chairs set before his own, perhaps four feet away. 
 Mr. Corlis and the Boss sat down; somehow 
 neither had anything to say. 
 
 J. J. J. did not bestir himself or hasten to speak. 
 He looked hard at McBride and in turn at Corlis. 
 " Hum ! " he ejaculated saturninely, and then hung 
 his head sidewise and ruminated. He combed his 
 loose whiskers with his strong fingers the while. 
 
 Corlis ventured to remark, 
 
 "I had trouble finding Mr. McBride; but I 
 told him you wanted to see him and couldn t wait." 
 
 No response was vouchsafed. 
 
 " I just dropped everything, Mr. Jarrett, and 
 come right along," explained the Boss propitiat- 
 ingly. He looked into his hat. 
 
 449
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 The magnate s scrutiny was again turned on the 
 pair, each of whom felt it. 
 
 " Hum, what s your idea of this whole matter, 
 McBride? " at last he asked suddenly. 
 
 What do I think?" repeated the Boss nerv 
 ously. 
 
 " That s what I want to learn," J. J. J. nodded. 
 
 u I think it s a mighty bad bizness," admitted 
 McBride. 
 
 The magnate smiled. It was a hard smile. 
 
 I didn t expect anything different from you, 
 McBride you acted after your own kind. You 
 Irish I ve always found to be sentimental as 
 women and treacherous as Comanches." 
 
 McBride shifted in his seat. 
 
 " Bizness is bizness," he muttered testily. 
 
 " Let s get to it, then," bade the money-master 
 ominously. " What I want to know is whether 
 you still are bent on your scheme of sacrificing the 
 legislative ticket for Corlis here. Are you? " 
 
 " Why not? " asked McBride. His head was 
 low, he could not bear that gaze; but so is a bull s 
 head low when he sets his wrinkled neck to contest 
 a charge. " Why not? " repeated the Boss. 
 
 " I furnished the money for your campaign," 
 answered J. J. J. 
 
 " So as to elect Corlis governor," amended Mc 
 Bride. 
 
 450
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " Not before the Senator," excepted the mag 
 nate. 
 
 " That ain t practical any more, as things have 
 turned out," asserted the Boss stolidly. " The 
 Senator s beat anyhow. Organization s a good 
 thing, Mr. Jarrett, and your money 11 go a long 
 way; but, when the people gets up on their hind 
 legs, I m tellin you, there ain t nothin this side of 
 God Almighty can stop em." 
 
 " Can t you throw over Corlis and save Senator 
 Dawes? That s only t other way about, I guess," 
 insisted J. J. J. " I ll subscribe unlimitedly to that 
 proposition." 
 
 The Boss was either taken aback or he was nim 
 ble and affected to be. 
 
 " You don t mean it? " he quavered. 
 
 ; I do," said the magnate. 
 
 " But it ain t practical," objected McBride. " A 
 United States Senator don t benefit us any, but a 
 governor he interests the boys." 
 
 J. J. J. ruminated. At last he said, 
 
 " See here, McBride, I don t know a lot about 
 politics, except that it s a skin game ; but I went 
 into this to reelect Dawes and I mean to get my 
 money s worth back. Corlis here asked me to enter 
 your Electrical Consolidated. I agreed; but I 
 made clear to him he must help the Senator before 
 all things."
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 "I never so understood it, excuse me," de 
 murred Mr. Corlis, meekly yet firmly. 
 
 Jarrett quelled him with a look. 
 
 " Corlis ain t as big a fool as he d like to make 
 out, McBride," said J. J. J. drily. " That was 
 the understanding, McBride," he continued. " I ll 
 put it stronger; they were my orders. If they 
 weren t spoken plain, Corlis, you ought to have 
 read em plain for I don t tolerate numskulls for 
 men around me. So the long and short of it is, 
 you disobeyed orders he tried to fool me, Mc 
 Bride. Tell me, you ve got sense, do I look like 
 a man to be monkeyed with? " 
 
 " No, not exactly," admitted the Boss humor 
 ously. " But, excuse me, as the candidate, Corlis 
 has got obligations to the party, to the boys, as 
 well as to you, Mr. Jarrett. His manager has got 
 somethin to say; he ain t bossin the campaign 
 and adornin the ticket all in one breath, you bet." 
 
 u I know nothing about his obligations to you, 
 and I don t care." J. J. J. indulged in results, not 
 in scruples. " But what s your forecast; let s hear 
 your estimate." 
 
 " We expect to carry Cook County by 40,000," 
 replied the Boss. " There s no countin on the 
 state; Ransom s got it by from ten to fifty thou 
 sand anywhere; it ll be a slump, sure." 
 
 " Hum ! " mused J. J. J. " Then, as close as 
 I can figure, Corlis chance is a slim one, even 
 
 452
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 though you cut everything to benefit him. Am I 
 right?" 
 
 " To get down to bizness, you are so, Mr. Jar- 
 rett; but he s promised to recognize the organiza 
 tion when he gets down to Springfield, and that 
 goes with us." 
 
 " Look here, McBride," said J. J. J. slowly, 
 " you won t elect Corlis. How many members of 
 the legislature could you save for the Senator here 
 in Chicago, if you wanted to, say mighty badly? " 
 
 " Half a dozen, mebbe more," answered the 
 Boss, promptly. 
 
 " Then do it," bade the magnate. " Corlis ain t 
 my man any more ; he doesn t represent my inter 
 ests a moment longer, you understand. When you 
 back him, you take him minus me. And I tell you 
 flat, if you are expecting the city railways to deal 
 with you in the future as in the past, you ve got 
 to get down and do your damnedest for the Sen 
 ator." 
 
 His glittering eyes drove home the significance 
 of what he said. 
 
 "How does that strike you, McBride?" he 
 asked drily. 
 
 " Pretty well," admitted the Boss. " I guess I ll 
 agree, Mr. Jarrett. Corlis ain t got much chance 
 anyhow; and, come to think of it, a governor 
 down in Springfield without the legislature 
 wouldn t do us half as much good as you can do 
 
 453
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 us harm up here in Chicago, Mr. Jarrett. I guess 
 you mean what you say." McBride looked quiz 
 zical. 
 
 " Count on it," said J. J. J. " And I have your 
 word, have I, McBride?" 
 
 " I guess so, Mr. Jarrett." The Boss sighed. 
 " Of course, you ain t supposin Cook County by 
 itself is goin to fix it for the Senator. We ll do 
 all we can, and mebbe there s a chance; but Ran 
 som s got things in a terrible stew down the state." 
 
 J. J. J. relaxed. Except for his eyes and the 
 movements of his neck he had sat as immobile as 
 an Indian chief; but now a satisfied smile spread 
 across his visage and he rubbed his hands. 
 
 " Now what do you propose to do with Corlis 
 here, McBride? " he asked, innocently. 
 
 " Leave him drop," replied the Boss succinctly. 
 
 The magnate fixed his scrutiny upon Corlis, who 
 with a look of boredom in his handsome face 
 awaited the issue. 
 
 " You re not a fool," J. J. J. announced; " you 
 can see things. You know it wouldn t help you to 
 make a fuss. And I guess you can measure up 
 what you amount to, too; I guess it ll kind of do 
 you good. And, mebbe, if you behave well and 
 take your medicine like a little man, we ll perhaps 
 do something for you, later on." 
 
 Corlis smiled; the correct, unmeaning smile of 
 the imperturbable man of the world. 
 
 454
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 " I m a good loser, Mr. Jarrett, you will find." 
 
 " You d better be," grunted McBride, rising 
 from his chair. " And, now we ain t partners no 
 more, I ll just tell Mr. Jarrett what s been the 
 trouble all along." The Boss pointed his big 
 thumb backwards to indicate Corlis to the mag 
 nate. " He s got the big-head, got it bad." 
 
 "Leave him to me; I ll attend to his case." 
 And J. J. J. rubbed his hands. 
 
 Corlis shut his teeth; he had to grind them to 
 repress his rage. His spirit had always cowered 
 before J. J. J.; but to have his shame uncovered 
 before the Irish Boss, whom he regarded as an in 
 ferior, infuriated him. 
 
 Yet, when McBride was gone, he made no pro 
 test. He accepted like a well-bred man, when he 
 is helpless, whatever indignities plebeians were dis 
 posed to put upon him. 
 
 " I always knew you hated me," was all he said 
 to Mr. Jarrett. 
 
 " I did not," answered J. J. J. judicially. " I 
 disliked what I thought you might be, and it s 
 turned out that s what you are." 
 
 And the old man bent on Corlis a scrutiny so 
 powerful, so fixed, that the latter sat fascinated, 
 as in a spell. He felt as if a still, strong light 
 were penetrating his flesh, searching the recesses 
 of his soul. The bewitchment grew upon him, he 
 was obsessed; those eyes that bound him became 
 
 455
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 his own wife s eyes, the dark, true eyes he knew 
 only they were no longer fond, nor generous, nor 
 forgiving to him, now; instead they were without 
 illusion and they probed they probed. To them 
 never more could he pose, vaingloriously they 
 knew him for a sham, a spurious great man, a vain 
 pretender. 
 
 ; This world grinds coarse," said J. J. J., " but 
 it grinds, I guess."
 
 XLIX 
 
 AN EDITORIAL 
 
 rHE PUNDIT of Wednesday morning, the 
 day after election day, contained a leading 
 editorial, written by MacPherson himself. 
 
 " Governor Ransom, rather than the Demo 
 cratic party, has swept the state. He forced the 
 issue upon the people, if he did not name the can 
 didate. He brought to the support of Gustave 
 Schwab the decisive minority, if he did not furnish 
 the solid support. Riding the Free Silver war- 
 horse, the redoubtable spoilsman has reversed all 
 the political precedents of Illinois, and, after re 
 nouncing his party and leading a crusade against 
 it, he finds himself stronger than ever, the idol of 
 Egypt and the trusted leader of many who had al 
 ways regarded him askance. 
 
 ; We suspect that two years hence, Randolph 
 Ransom will become the presidential nominee of 
 the new party, which, whatever it call itself, will 
 represent the new issue. 
 
 " But as for the state. Governor Ransom has 
 both revenged himself and achieved a solid vic 
 tory. He alone, in a period of forty years, has had 
 the good-fortune or the good skill to unhorse Sen- 
 
 457
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ator Dawes. Uncle Simeon has somehow sur 
 vived many conflicts, also many friends. His ene 
 mies, heretofore, have always been beaten, his 
 friends effectually used and used up. At last he 
 has been out-generaled and out-fought by a former 
 lieutenant, whom he attempted to hoodwink. Gov 
 ernor Ransom has been devoted to Senator Dawes; 
 but he objected to being kept neutral while his 
 enemies within the party usurped his place. He 
 objected to being sacrificed to Corlis and McBride 
 in order that Senator Dawes might be reflected to 
 the Senate. We don t blame him. 
 
 " As for Walter H. D. Corlis, he was a danger 
 ous possibility in Illinois. He was showy, vain 
 glorious, with the aspect of respectability and the 
 unscrupulousness of a highwayman. He has abil 
 ity; but he is the sort of cool and complacent in 
 dividual who is generally overrated. His bubble 
 is pricked for good. 
 
 " McBride still remains. He will remain. Such 
 monstrous parasites as he are not to be exter 
 minated. True, the limits of his authority are 
 now marked and defined; his bailiwick marches 
 and ends with Cook County, but inside he is still 
 Chicago s Black Boss. 
 
 The Democracy seems to appreciate its debt 
 to the great champion of Free Silver, the great foe 
 of the power of money. It had better. It can t 
 chance on such a leader more than once in two 
 
 458
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 decades. He is a despot by temperament and a 
 demagogue by art, and at last he has joined the 
 crowd who like to be bossed and love to be fooled. 
 The Pundit never liked Randolph Ransom and 
 does not believe in him now. But The Pundit can 
 recognize brains when it sees them, and in that 
 especial particular never underrated Governor 
 Ransom. 
 
 " He can be chosen Senator this winter to suc 
 ceed Senator Dawes, if he chooses. We advise 
 him to resist the seduction. He will, if he be wise. 
 If he is wise, he will content himself with remain 
 ing the manager and master-spirit of the Silver 
 movement, with cementing the factions, with forg 
 ing a machine for himself (and he is an expert at 
 the business), so that he may be in a position to 
 demand and receive at the hands of the next Dem 
 ocratic National Convention that recognition to 
 which his personality and his services entitle him. 
 
 "The Pundit neither approves of Governor Ran 
 som nor sanctions his mental processes; yet wel 
 comes the opportunity of crossing swords with a 
 man of no mean ability, no mediocre talent." 
 
 Such was The Pundit s summation of the elec 
 tion s results. It was not far wrong. 
 
 Corlis carried Chicago and Cook County by 
 nearly ten thousand votes; but J. J. J. s interfer 
 ence cost him at least ten thousand votes. Middle 
 and upper Illinois, usually Republican, gave, in all f 
 
 459
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 scarcely two thousand plurality for the ticket. 
 Thus Egypt was left to confront Chicago and the 
 exact vote in her back districts was slow in com 
 ing in. 
 
 But there was no need to await the back dis 
 tricts ; Egypt had confirmed her faith in Ransom s 
 leadership by an immense majority so much was 
 apparent by midnight of election day. Governor 
 Ransom had spent the day before, Monday, in 
 making passionate last appeals from the tail-end of 
 a train at some thirty points in that benighted 
 " neck of the woods." And Egypt had rallied to 
 his call; she returned a Democratic plurality like 
 those before the war; she overwhelmed Chicago s 
 ten thousand plurality with one of twenty-seven 
 thousand. Ransom buried the man he hated under 
 an adverse plurality of fifteen thousand votes. 
 
 460
 
 FINALITIES 
 
 CHRISTOPHER RUGGLES was set down 
 in Chicago soon after four o clock of a raw 
 November day. He had come up from 
 Springfield whence he had returned with Governor 
 Ransom after the last-day dash through Egypt. 
 Election was over and to-morrow he would be ex 
 pected to report at the Pundit office and resume 
 local work. 
 
 He left the ugly railway station, emerging upon 
 the streets. The same sullen, uncomfortable crowd 
 swarmed on the sidewalks, the same monstrous 
 traffic choked the roadways. The walls of the 
 " sky-scrapers " ran up like sheer cliffs, the tops 
 wreathed in vapors of cold smoke that the lake 
 wind wound and unwound about the pinnacles, 
 drove in dense sheets down into the abysses called 
 streets, or tossed up in thick folds until they en 
 shrouded the sky. 
 
 Ruggles saw what he was used to; but it hurt 
 him more than usual. It was tremendous, no 
 doubt; but it was ugly as well. The tide flowed 
 about those topping hulks of steel and stone, and 
 strongly in and out through all the crevices a 
 
 461
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 vast and heedless force, propelled, as it were, by 
 some heartless monster of a machine that pulsed a 
 constant motion, oblivious of any chance individual 
 destruction that might occur. 
 
 He wondered and admired, as he had a thou 
 sand times before as he admired Niagara. To 
 day, in addition, he hated it, feeling on bare nerves 
 its whole ruthlessness and barbarity; the swing of 
 the heavy whip upon the flanks of the overloaded 
 horses cut him to the quick; the human faces, flac 
 cid with an old indifference to defeat, or agonizing 
 in a fresh despair, filled him with a sick pity. And 
 those other human faces, hard and energetic, 
 seamed with fraud or inflamed with greed, the 
 faces of the conquerors, them he loathed. 
 
 What disillusion, indeed, the reality of life had 
 brought to a sentimental thinker who, in his first 
 youth, had believed men noble, society swayed by 
 some great Justice, the universe moving upward to 
 some mystic, moral end ! Poor soul, Humor never 
 served as hand-maid to his reason; his nerves were, 
 perforce, victimized by his serious genus. 
 
 He walked now along the streets. It was the 
 hour when a multitude of toilers are let out the 
 rookeries, freed from the machines. Girls by hun 
 dreds sought the cable cars and elevated stations; 
 the chill wind searched them keenly, while male 
 animals of prey watched for an exposed ankle or 
 the outline of a bust. Ruggles boiled; he felt
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 himself a rebel against Nature. These wretched 
 creatures, so illy nourished, so feebly willed, how 
 could they withstand, when hard-pushed by cruel 
 circumstances? Yet each was a woman and, 
 therefore, pitiful. 
 
 The early winter gloom shut down and a million 
 globes of light made filmy circles in the obscurity. 
 Ruggles plodded on. Where should he go? He 
 owned no inclination that pointed anywhere. He 
 was a man, alone, minus the web of relationships 
 which knitted others, rich and poor alike, to the 
 social scheme. He was removed by " culture," by 
 experience of the mind, from participation in the 
 unthinking life of the masses, while other causes 
 forbade the merging of his loneliness in the higher 
 existence of the few. That he realized the pecu 
 liarity of his isolation was characteristic of the 
 man; he knew, also, how many in the gigantic city 
 repeated his own case. He was stifling for the 
 oxygen of real companionship, although two mil 
 lion human beings fluttered about him in a tumult 
 every day. 
 
 Card had been delayed in her office; it was 
 after six as she came down in the elevator. But 
 dark streets never daunted her and she sallied 
 forth ; she emerged from under the stone archway 
 that formed the mouth of the enormous bee-hive. 
 The pallid glare of the electric light revealed her 
 tall figure and the severe outline of her face. 
 
 463
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She paused insensibly upon the pavement she, 
 too, was not drawn anywhere. For a moment a 
 passion of desolation swept her features, and her 
 lips parted in a sigh; then the accustomed resolu 
 tion sealed expression close. She turned to walk 
 away. 
 
 " Card." 
 
 A man who stepped from out the shadow spoke 
 her name. 
 
 She did not stop. 
 
 ; Is is that you, Chris? I m glad to see you." 
 
 Her voice was that of friendship, cordial, calm. 
 
 " Don t, Card, don t," he murmured, following. 
 " I ve come back, Card; I ve come back for good. 
 It s been so horrible don t freeze me up." 
 
 They crossed into another zone of light and 
 Card surveyed him comprehensively. 
 
 " All right, Chris," she concluded, " come 
 along. I won t say a word; I guess we re quits 
 you ve suffered as much as I." 
 
 " Dear Card," he whispered, as he fell in with 
 her steps. 
 
 " You bet I m dear," echoed Card, with a 
 laugh. " If I were like most women, I d make you 
 dance around awhile on hot irons for a month. But 
 I never was mean," she asserted, thankfully. 
 
 You re the most generous soul on earth," he 
 portested, in his self-abasement, " and I think I m 
 the littlest, quite. I never shall forgive myself, 
 
 464
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 dear Card, that I went away at all, though I be 
 lieve I always meant to come back." 
 
 " Pooh, Chris, don t take on so; we re such old 
 friends, why shouldn t I be nice to you? " 
 
 She put a great deal of astonishment into her 
 voice. 
 
 The reporter slipped in a trice from the felicity 
 of misery into its distress. 
 
 "Friends! Oh, Card, you don t think we re 
 that!" 
 
 She was flushing in the dark. 
 
 "Can t we be friends?" she queried. Then 
 flippantly, " It s evident you don t much appreciate 
 my forgiveness, Chris." 
 
 No, we can t," said Ruggles, shortly. He 
 fancied vaguely he might perhaps, for once in his 
 life, proceed like a man of action and round up 
 matters with a sharp turn. " No, Card, we can t," 
 he repeated firmly. " I didn t come back to be 
 just friends; that s not enough. I ve been so good 
 for nothing and so lonely; I am no good without 
 you, Card, at all." The plaintive note in his voice 
 gave way to one almost of fear. " You won t turn 
 me off, Card, even if I do deserve it, to endure my 
 misery and loneliness? You won t; it wouldn t 
 be like you, Card." 
 
 She had purposed to surrender at discretion in 
 her own time ; but her heart melted for his poign 
 ant suffering she herself knew so well what it 
 
 465
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 was. She reached in the shadow and impulsively 
 her hand fluttered into his. 
 
 " No, no, Chris, not yet! Tell me first you do 
 forgive me, and you see now I might have been 
 bad once, for a day and yet be worthy of a 
 good man s love? " 
 
 " Don t don t talk so, Card; you are the 
 noblest woman I ever knew." 
 
 "What, Mrs. Corlis?" taunted Card, half 
 glad to escape into levity. 
 
 " Oh, Card, she is you own sister in spirit." 
 The tone was almost a reproach. 
 
 " I know," said Card, reverently. 
 
 " And, Card, besides her, it was your letters 
 brought me back. They were so strong and I felt 
 so little, so little like a man." 
 
 " Then it was good for you," said Card con 
 tentedly. 
 
 That s true, it was," he meekly acquiesced. 
 " And it was very brave of you to write," he 
 added, with a burst of admiration. 
 
 " Oh, that I had to do, dear Chris. Too much 
 was at stake. But tell me, did they make you un 
 derstand, do you think? I I wrote them with 
 my tears and blood." 
 
 " They made me worship you for the most cour 
 ageous soul " he vowed. 
 
 " Now that, Chris, is not what I want. What 
 I mean is, did they make you see how a woman 
 
 466
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 refuses to be cast down, because of a mistake of 
 ignorance and youth? Can you now believe what 
 is true of me that I am better, honestly better, for 
 it all?" 
 
 He hesitated. 
 
 " Can you? " came the insistent reiteration. 
 
 " I m jealous, Card, miserably jealous still." 
 Chris laid down his arms. " But I suppose I can 
 understand, intellectually understand perhaps." 
 
 " Of course you can," assented Card. " I m 
 not repentant I never was. The way to mend a 
 matter is by action, not by whining. We ought to 
 grow in grace and mind and true nobility by rea 
 son of our sins and passions, or what s the use of 
 them?" 
 
 They turned a corner into State street, where 
 the electrical illumination, if of another tint than 
 day s, seemed as strong. Ruggles saw her now, 
 the high bearing, the clean limbs, the beautiful 
 strong face aflash with meaning, and the aureole 
 of pale, gold hair. Some classic recollection stirred 
 in him ah, he knew she was a Greek Victory, 
 unconquerable, glorious, rare. 
 
 He bowed his head as in a reverent acceptance 
 of a spirit nobler than all the Magdalens that ever 
 wept. 
 
 Yes, Card, it is all as you say. But what I 
 know clearly is that you are much above me and 
 that you lift me up." 
 
 467
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 She turned to him with sudden weakness. 
 
 " Oh, Chris," she said, " it is so good to have 
 you back again, to hear your voice, to look into 
 your dear eyes. Chris, the world was a very 
 lonely place while you were away." 
 
 "Where are we bound for?" he asked pres 
 ently. 
 
 " Straight out to the McBrides ," Card de 
 clared. " I must let Gretchen know, first thing, 
 for she s been worried half to death, and besides, 
 there s nothing will so much please the Boss." 
 
 "Strange, Card, isn t it?" mused Chris: "I 
 thought, .once, he must be some sort of coarse, vul 
 gar devil." 
 
 " Oh, Chris, that fat Irishman s a knight at 
 heart, though he is a ward politician got up." 
 
 Ruggles gazed absent-mindedly about the table, 
 and, after his wont, relapsed into thought. Mc- 
 Bride oozed geniality, while Gretchen of the flaxen 
 braids still showed cheeks stained by the whimper 
 ing with which she had received Card s announce 
 ment. 
 
 The reporter was happy and for years he had 
 been miserable. Yet he still must analyze and he 
 found it strange. A student of government and 
 political science, a doctrinaire, one who had been 
 ardent for reform and zealous for purity in poli 
 tics, he was now associated in intimacy with an 
 
 468
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Irish Boss and his wife; he was engaged to marry 
 a woman of a new type, who refused to manifest 
 repentance or to look back upon what was done; 
 and the paradox of the whole situation was, that 
 he now felt more confident of the practical issue 
 of the truths in which he believed than he ever had 
 while he stood well within Respectability s white 
 pale. 
 
 America had come very far, he mused. She 
 was working out her own development in ways 
 original. And the student who complained of her, 
 the idealist who was shocked by her, were ignorant 
 in reality and of little faith. Let such work with her 
 in the common ways, let them humbly learn and 
 close their foolish mouths! 
 
 The gentlemanly purist was become an ana 
 chronism to-day; McBride and Ransom were the 
 realities. Ruggles, for one, did not protest. 
 Poetry had been written before the critics ever had 
 laid down its laws ; economics and politics perform 
 their work with no reference to the views of the 
 professors of the subjects, who investigate past ac 
 complished things and cackle sapiently about pres 
 ent tendencies to classes of callow youths. 
 
 He heard the Boss telling Card about Mr. Jar- 
 rett s coercion of Corlis, and describing how that 
 affected the results. The narrative confirmed, to 
 his mind, what he had come to believe was the 
 truth. The world was full of forces and action 
 
 469
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 was their interplay. Reformers and doctrinaires 
 expected government to excel human nature and 
 business to obey abstractions that had no force. 
 He smiled at them now. 
 
 Likewise his Card refuted the conventional 
 moralists. She was the free, persistent spirit of 
 America. She refused to take the punishment de 
 creed of old; she scoffed at the solemn monstros 
 ities of the sin-oppressed imagination; she was 
 Greek, noble, dauntless, laughter loving. 
 
 In the toleration of his mood, Ruggles framed 
 an apology even for the Boss. McBride might 
 be corrupt; he was; but he was also very human. 
 
 Card was saying to the McBrides, 
 
 " No, I m going out of business. I have cleared 
 up eighty thousand dollars and that s about enough 
 for Chris and me." 
 
 "But what are you goin to do?" asked the 
 Boss. You ve got to do something, as you ain t 
 the sort to lay round." 
 
 " Oh, we re going to Europe, first of all. I ve 
 got to see Paris and the Alps, and Chris, I guess, 
 can theorize doing nothing over there just as well 
 as if he were doing stunts for the old Pundit be 
 tween his thinks here." 
 
 The three laughed at the sally. 
 
 " Yes," inquired McBride, " but if you re goin 
 gallivantin round the earth for fun, where does 
 
 470
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 Chris come in, I d like to know, with his reformin 
 itch and his socialism? " 
 
 " It s none of my business what he thinks, if he 
 only acts my way," declared Card, with her inim 
 itable effrontery. " I ve about worked my share, I 
 guess, and now I want to get reposeful and cul 
 tured and that sort of thing. I didn t make this 
 world and so it s not up to me, necessarily, to 
 tinker up its squeaky machinery. There is some 
 thing besides feeling your responsibilities in this 
 life." She was encouraged to exaggeration. 
 " Chris there, I can tell you, won t wear so long a 
 face when he s got me to cheer him up; if he must 
 mourn for humanity, I mean to fix it anyway so he 
 can t mourn for himself." 
 
 Me Bride exploded in a loud guffaw and 
 Gretchen tinkled her accompaniment, while Chris 
 smiled rather uncomprehendingly at his Card. 
 
 471
 
 LI 
 
 OTHER FINALITIES. 
 
 THE weeks that immediately followed the 
 election found Mr. Corlis much at home. 
 His clubs apparently contained small at 
 traction for him, while the companionship of men 
 whose manner was continually a delicate acknowl 
 edgment of his superiority in money and power, 
 he seemed content altogether to eschew. In fine, 
 the inclination to domesticity that he evinced was 
 unprecedented so far as his wife could recall. He 
 lingered in the room in which she chanced to be; 
 he invented little courtesies as if to prove his devo 
 tion to her woman s mind ; he followed her when 
 he could and helped to beguile many a lagging 
 hour. 
 
 She tolerated rather than accepted these evi 
 dences of friendship or of fondness on his part; 
 she permitted them because she was too apathetic 
 to resist, and because she frequently found any 
 presence welcome that could dissipate the solitude 
 of her thoughts. Indeed, in time, she grew a lit 
 tle thankful for his constancy, and mildly acqui 
 esced in his new appreciation. 
 
 Only once were her emotions stirred from dull 
 ness, and that was by the news of Governor Ran- 
 
 472
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 som s sudden death. In despite of her own defeat, 
 she had thrilled exultantly at the announcement of 
 his victory in the election. And now the manner 
 of his death thrilled her again. The Governor 
 had fallen dead in the State House in Springfield 
 one December afternoon. One moment he had 
 been talking animatedly, the next he was lying life 
 less on the floor. 
 
 She remembered that in the old days he had fre 
 quently expressed his wish to die suddenly, " in 
 his boots." And she felt that his death now was 
 not to be regretted. He had reached the height 
 of his career; for him there would be no slow, in 
 evitable decline from the summit he had so toil 
 somely attained. He had lived life out, gotten its 
 good, made himself the strong man he was de 
 signed to be. What else remained? 
 
 She read the newspaper descriptions of his fu 
 neral and the grudging acknowledgments of edi 
 tors and respectabilities. She felt that the people s 
 sorrow compensated for their indifference. A com 
 mon grief reigned in the country between the Wa- 
 bash, the Ohio and the Mississippi; sixty thou 
 sand people attended the funeral at the capital of 
 the state; hard-handed men and women wept as 
 they looked for the last time upon the Roman face 
 of him who had been their idol, their champion, 
 their hero. 
 
 From such tragical contemplation, Mrs. Corlis 
 
 473
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 turned with a new pity to the deft ministrations of 
 her husband. She came to realize how forlorn 
 the vain man was, stripped of office and of power, 
 deprived of the daily homage of his fellow-men, 
 which had made life pleasurable to him. She saw 
 how plausibly in the future he might grow to im 
 pute responsibility for his downfall to her interven 
 tion, and how bitter his memory of her might be 
 come. Once or twice she detected in his eyes that 
 look of subservience which first had affected her, 
 when he was a departmental clerk in Washington 
 and she the toasted heiress. That look of his poor 
 youth made her ashamed. 
 
 In the old house down at Primrose Hill, in the 
 presence of the prairies and their silences, she re 
 sumed with her father the simple life which they 
 had lived years ago, and was released forever from 
 the fever of the world which had once nearly con 
 sumed her. 
 
 The Senator she found despondent in defeat 
 and inclined at moments to cynicism and misan 
 thropy. The duty of cheering him and lightening 
 his humor devolved upon her. In her effort to 
 comfort him she had recourse to the precepts of 
 the high Puritan philosophy in whose justice her 
 youth had been instructed and from whose sever 
 ity her womanhood had shrunk. In evoking them 
 
 474
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 to sustain the spirit of another, she found solace 
 for herself. 
 
 The two often sat together within the glass pro 
 tected porch, passing silent hours content in one 
 another s company. They saw the naked prairies 
 become mantled in white snow and the suns go 
 down early in bleak winter splendors. Each knew 
 that life for them had been completed and that 
 they were no longer of interest to the world. Each 
 day the Senator, who felt that he was the last of 
 the old Americans, was further alienated from 
 what for years had closed him round, and each 
 day Mrs. Corlis withdrew further into her inheri 
 tance. 
 
 Indeed, in those last days, in the house of her 
 fathers, breathing the country air and conscious 
 only of the great simplicities, Mrs. Corlis relapsed 
 into Puritanism; then the moral genius of her 
 race emerged and captured her imagination and 
 her mind. She felt she had attained to a right 
 perception of the relativity of things. Her own 
 experience ot life had demonstrated to her that the 
 meaning of existence is moral and that human life 
 can only so be justified. 
 
 Nevertheless, in the conviction of her recovered 
 Puritanism Mrs. Corlis did not assume the fault 
 of Puritanism, its provincial judgment and its in 
 clination to mistake respectability for righteous 
 ness. She had lived too much; her mind s experi- 
 
 475
 
 The Mills of Man 
 
 ence was too catholic. As with last invincible in 
 sight she pierced to the soul of things, some of her 
 conclusions were these : 
 
 She was no longer impressed by unassailable 
 virtue nor by immaculate states maintained. What 
 she esteemed was the persistence after good, a per 
 sistence found as often in one station as in another, 
 in the slums as frequently as on the avenue, dis 
 played as often by persons discredited as by those 
 approved in the world s regard, to be seen some 
 times in citizens prone to evil, and sometimes to 
 be missed in gentlemen confirmed in a conceit of 
 virtue. 
 
 For herself Mrs. Corlis was content. She had 
 learned life s secret, and to learn that is the end 
 and all of life. Besides, did she not look forward 
 to a long tranquillity? 
 
 476
 
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