The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 12, 1903, Page 3

THE SUNDAY CALL., ind through the mountains and over the out to Illinois. VIL Garwood's train, like most trains that rough Grand Prairie, was late that the white twilight upon had depended for protection d at the station, bad duep- a gloom that almost absorbed her ure, clad in the biack of her £ garb, though the little toque she wore were of a vernii lent & smartness to her :rmined to spend the he had to wait beyond th ing his joy at being nore at home with her; but the ries of her last visit to this stat on at rainy December nigh: long ago. she had reached home from fcr visit to Washington, would crowd her and torture her, setting in ghts that assailed per resoluts agent had begun by en ing on the blackboard t der the wide eaves of the that did for a station the r of misutes the train was late 1 that time fled by and the train did t come he rubbed out his first figur chalked in others; when th: m'nuls these inadequately symvoled had gone by I he gave over the effort an. told Emily, with a helpless gestu. poke his refusal to be any longer that he did not know wheu uld come, He glanced at the his semaphore and then shut 1f iuto his little ticket office, where the telegraph ipsirumert, ticking fev ishly away, indicated somc remaining spark of life in the railroad's system. Emily had been worrying for some time about all the possible things that m'gl: heppen to the baby during her,absenca She had been worrying about the dinnor she had ordered in place of thelr usuzi supper, but that, she was sure. had iong ago grown cold and was beyond reaca even of & woman's worry. The train came at last, when every one about the station had collapsed into an attitude of having given it up entirely, and Emily forgot her long walit in the Joy with which she rushed forth to grect lLer husband. She saw his big figurs emerg- ing from the last coach on the tra'n. His hat was pulled down to his brows ard he looked out upon the desolate scene that the little station presenis to the travoler who enters Grand Prairie by that road. with the crossness of a passenger whoss train with almost human perversity haa been losing time ever since it started. When he saw Emily I'e 414 not quicgen his pace, though he walked on in her direction, with a long face that told ber he was entitled to her pity aad sympathy for all that he had to endure In life. She ran toward him and he bent his head that ehe might embrace his neck and kiss him. She clung there an instant, and when she released him his eyes were searching the barren platform. “Nobody else here?” he asked “Why, no, dear—who would—"" “Isn’t Pusev here?” “Pusey?’ she repeated, in surprise. Bu: Garwood made no answer. He was think- ing of the old days when he was always met by Rankin and usually by ha!f a dozen of Rankin's followers gathersd together to give eclat to the Congress- man's homecoming. But now there was no one to meet him but Emily. He Insisted upon a carriage to be driven home in, saying the ride from Olney in the common coach had nearly kilied hirr, evud when, above tha ra‘tis of the cid back's windows, Emily said: “I'm so zladé to have you homs again,” her last words somehow expressed the whole situation against which his nature was In revolt, and he cried out: home again! Nice time to be was nalled u ttle chalet that responsible, the train w lights him: “Yes, called away from Washington! What are they all trying to do here now, dv you know?" “They seem,” Emily sald, “to be trying to defeat you for a third term.” Well, I sometimes sh they'd suc- d,” said Garwood: “sometimes I get k of the whole business of politics, § U mily was sitting upright, her facs urned away from him in her disappoint- ment S0 @o 1" she acquiesced, In a “ctce. “Well,” Garwood growled, as if she and Tot he himself had suggested the ve-y d'saster which - of all others he most feared, “they won't beat me ttis time, 1'll tell "em that. I reckon Jim Rankin's at the bottom of it all T ow VIIL The curtains were drawn at the win- gows of Garwood's law office that night, but the thin lip of light that outlined the casement told to belated men in Grand Prairie that a conference was going on withir The primaries were but two days off and & vague uncerain quality in the ays that straggled Into the gloom and ened the rusty gilt ietters of Ga'- m, creaking it had done fu- years in the wind, might have 15 the imaginative something of the straits in which the little council gathered within found itself. Had such a one been acquainted with politics in that prairie district and had #cen Jim Rankin pass by at midnight under the trees that swayed the thick black shadows of their foliage dizzily to and fro on the wide stone sidewalk and acted the curious smile that glimmered an instant on Rankin's face, when from Zorce of old habit he raised an upward glance, he would have concluded that s ricus obstacles beset the way of Jeroma B. Garwood in that career to which ar & man of destiny he had belleved himsclf uvrdained, and from which the Inconstnat @nd ever-changing circle of his friends had expected so much. Garwood had come home to find his po'itical condition desperate. He himse'f, ofit of the anger that showed black in his face during those hot and trying days, described the situation as a revolt, and had he been possessed of the power, would giadly have punished the rebels by such stern repressive measures as autocratic governments employ In the terror their inherent weakness inspires. Amid the spring delights of Washington public life he had become swoilen wiih new ambitions. He not only wished to be renominated for Congress, but he wished 2lso to be placed at the head of the Polk County delegation to the State convention calied to meet In Springfield early in June; and beyond this he had the higher wish to be sent as delegate to the na- tional convention at Chicago. He wouid have preferred, of course, to be named as one of the Big Four delegates at large from Illinois, and when his Imagination had been more warmly stimulated by Colonel Bird's mint juleps, he had dram- atized himself as electrifying the national convention by some fine extemporaneous flight of oratory, In which he should soar in an instant to the pinnacle of a national fame, and from that rare altitude behold new and illilmitable possibilities of politi- cal future. It was, therefore, with a shock of disappointment to which he had not the vower to reconcile himself that he had obeyed Pusey's urgent telegram and had come home to find his very poli. ical existence at stake. Sprague, reviled and reproached as a perennial candidaté by those in the dis- trict who were themselves perennial can- didates, was once more in the fleld seck- ing Congressional honors. His county, Moultrfe, had held its convention anrd ence more instructed its fifteen delegates for him. Over in Logan, General Barrett. having had a glimpse of the promised iand at the Pekin convention, departed from the reserre and dignity of his eminent respectability as to have been himself declared a cand idate and he had been indorsed by his county. These can- didatures did not seriously alarm Gar- wood, but a new compl suddenly added to the situation of such grave portent that he had summoned about him those who, having received Government offices of varying degrees of importance, still felt themselves bound to his_support. This night, then, they were gathered in the office. where Enright now spent his days in the midst of a law practice so ifmmature and modest that it could not keep the.dust off the books that were piled all about. Pusey was there and Hale had hurried over from Pekin on re- ceipt of a telegram from Garwood. Be- sices these were Kellogg, whom Garwood had succeeded in placing in the office of the Secretary of State at Springfield. and Crawford, _his private secretary. They were ranged on chalrs uniformly tilted agalnst the wa.. of the little private of- fice, and the alr was streaked with the customary clouds of tobacco smoke that tndicate a political fire. Hale lowered his chair to the floor and bent over with his elbows on his knees, his head hanging and his face hidden. The others in the room, except Pusey, who was as indifferent as ever, had transfixed him with accusing eyes, though any one could have told that their atti- tude was feigned in order to keep In sym- pathy with the threatening mood of Gar- wood, who sat at his desk and glowered he Pekin Postmaster. "hy don’t you speak?” demanded Gar- wood presently, as if Hale had been ar- raigned upon an indictment, and they were waiting for him to enter a plea. Hale stirred uneasily, but he did not said Garwood, petulantly, “I o y you couldn’t have held Tazewell, anyhow!” “Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Garwood,” said Hale, at length, breaking under the pres. sure of all those accusing stares, ‘‘you see, it's like this. The people over our way are sore on the President, they're down on the administration—" “Oh, hell!” cried Garwood, striking his desk in disgust, “I don't give a damn for what the people think about the Presi- dent, nor the administration, either." “But they think you're supportin’ the administration—course,”—Hale hastened to disclaim any individual responsibility for so serious a charge—"I'm only tellin’ you what they say.” “Well, didn't any of them read my speech the other dl{' Does that look as if I'm supporting the administration?” Hale had no reply to make to this ar- ument. He only heaved his heavy shoul- ers in something that approximated a shrug. "W!hen was Balley over there?' Gar- wood demanded. “Oh, he's been over off an’ on for a month.” ““Then why in hell didn’t you write me!" said Garwood, turning angrily in his His eyes blazed at Hale @ moment, and then he tossed his head and looked eway In utter disgust. Hale had thrown him a giance that in had so far- its turn had some of the anger that was Leginning to show in his reddening face, and he replied: 5 % “Well, 1 didn't know it, that’s why. You can't get on to Zeph Bailey; he wades in the water, he does.” Hale breathed hard, and no one had an answer ready. They all knew Balley's mysterious habits, and Hale's explanation was sufficient to accuit Lim in the forum of their minds. Hale sensed instantly a i defensive quality in the atmos- phere; a current of sympathy seemed to set in toward him and he kept on, fecling his advantage. Why didn’'t any of the rest of you wise guys get on to him when he come gver and started to fix things right here in Polk County?” And they ‘had no answer for that. Gar- wood, sweeping the circle with a glance, and fearing a division in his own ranks, forced a smile of conciliation, and said: “‘Oh, well. if Bailey's 4 candidate, we'll have to fight him, that's all. It's only one more, anyw and—"" But the menacs of Balley’s candidacy had cast upon his spirits a shadow too dense to be lightened by mere words, and his sentence died wih the confident air he had been able for a moment to com- mand. Hale, however, had been molil- fied, and took Garwood's manner from him, as he straightened up to say: “Course, we'll make a fight for it. You've got some friends left in Tazewell, and so have I, and If we're licked we'll die with our boots on, that's all there is to that.” “He has his own county, of course. And you say he has been at work up in De Witt. Now, If he gets Tazewell and Polk well—" Garwood flung out his hands hopelessly, as If to surrender. *“Great guns, what's the use?” “‘And Sprague'll throw Moultrie to him— that's fixed. Sprague knows he can’t get it; he's just been acting as a stalking horse for®Bailey,” sald KelJogg. anxlous to bear his part in this conference, even if he could bring nothing cheerful to it. ‘“How did he ever get on the blind side of Sprague?’ queried Garwood, peevishly. “'Oh, Legislature,” sald Kellogg. proud to be able to show his knowledge of af- fairs In the State House at Springfleld: “he put some of Sprague’s fellows—Simp Lewis and some more of 'm—on the pay roll, and took care of brother-in-law Wil- son when he made up the committees.” ‘H-m-m-m,” Garwood mused, ‘“Mason and Moultrle and De Witt—if he gets Tazewell or Polk now—I don’t know what you gentlemen think about {t, but it looks to me as if he had us pretty nearly skinned.” What they thought of it was not ap- parent, for none of them spoke. and silence settied over the little room, where Garwood’'s ambitions were trembling In the fateful balance. At last Pusey spoke. ‘“He hasn’t got Polk yet.' Something of the determination which the little man had put into his tone af- fected the otheps and they looked up with new smiles. A reaction set in &nd Gar- wood glanced at Pusey gratefully. “Yes,” he sald, trying to resume his Congressional dignity, with a smile that was Intended to take from it its sugges- tion of distance, “you remember what the devil sald: —let us Consult how we may henceforth most offend Our enemy; our own loss how repalr; How overcome this dire calamity; What reinforcement we may gain from hope; “ If not, what resolytion from despgir. . e They stared at him in amazement, won- dering how it wa= possible for him to know what the devil had said, all except Pusey, who nodded appreciatively, to show his own relation to the world of letters. And then _Hale drew a long breath and threw back his shoulders. “'Of course,” he said, “if we can carry the primaries here in Polk, that will help us to win out over In my county. Can you do it?" “How about Jim Rankin?” blurted out the tactless, maladroit Kellogg. The name cast a chill over the little gathering Jjust as the new cheer was warming it and they were all vicarlously embarrass by what, just at that time. amounted to a contretemps. If Rankin himself, pass- ing by outside at that very moment, could have seen the expressive glances that were secretly exchanged before they all ylelded to the impulse to fix unitedly on Qarwood’s face, he would have had a sensation to gladden him during all his homeward way. But Garwood met the situation with real dignity. “Well, Jim will be against ot cgur:e E They might have demurred out of mere politeness, but Garwood addeds “Angd 1 can assure you, gentlemen, he is_an antagonist not to be despised.” The mention of Rankin's name, how- ever, had the final effect of forcing them to seek some positive means of dealing with the situation, and after the prelim- inary waste of time common to most con- ferences, they began at last to plan for tne coming primaries. They were at it @ long whiie, and when in the chill, ghast- Iy hours of the early morning they sepa- {medi. Gnlrwuod volced what was doubt- ess In the hearts of all of the he sald to Pusey: 5 b “Remember, Pusey. sey switched nis little eves toward Garwood, but Garwood did not see them. He was thinking of other days. Garwood awoke after a few hours of restless sleep, snatched a hurried break- fast. seized his hat and was going away without a word, when Emlly followed him through the hali and to the door, and with nervousness and suspense showing in her concentrated brows she looked up at .im and said: “T'll be glad when this day's over.” “So’ll 1" he rejoined, and then, though he had stepped on the veranda, he turned again. A sudden tenderness, springing from the need of support and sympathy Le himself felt that day, overfiowed his heart, and he pressed his fingers to her brow and touched the wrinkles. ‘1 don't like to see those there,” he sald, and as if in Instant response to his me, we have Jim Rankin to whim. her smile smoothed them away. You'll send me word, Jerome, won't you?" she sald; “the babies and T'll be watching and waiting, On, I wish we could help!” llg smiled his old smile at her loyalty. 'Good-by,” he sald; “T'il keep you post- ed.” And 'he ran down the steps. The rain was slanting down to make an ideal primary day and Garwood was glad of the walting carriage, which, in the ex- travagance a man can always justify to himself in the midst of a campaign, he you know. had ordered the night before. Emily watched him drive away, down the streaming street. Once he turned and looked back through the window at her, or she thought he did, and she waved her hand. Then all the morning long she went about the house with the memory of his kiss*upon her lips, and she sang at times, though her heart would forever leap into her throat when she thought of the bitter contest going on In the rain that was falling upon the green flelds of Polk County. The rain fell steadily In the giocom with an impressiveness that would remind her of the silent fate which that dl}; was deciding Jerome’s future and her own. She felt as if she were passing through a crisis fn her life. She found it impos- sible to apply herself steadily to any one of the futile little tasks that are aiways awalting the hand of the housewife, but wandered aimlessly about, unable to rest, unable to work, unable to.do anyihing until she knew the event of that day. She had found a new faith in Jerome with the kiss he had given her at parting, and she lived over and over agaln that one last moment when he had smiled down into her eyes with the expression she remembered of other days. That mo- ment and that kiss were enough to blot out all the years of her loneliness and renunciation, and as those years faded from her view she could look forward now with a new hope and a new con- Aidence to the happier days she felt must come when this last battler had been fought. For she feit it would be the last battle: she determined that it must be the last battle; she could ‘not endure the strain and suspense of another, and her soul's sincere desire took the romantic torm of a firsyer that Jerome return to }\le bearing his shield or being borne upon The rain had come with a thunder storm early in the morning, but as the day advanced the temperature lowered and a cold, raw wind blowing from the west lashed out the last of the warm weather they had been having all over Central Illinols. The hope of the spring seemed suddenly gone; the day. indeed, might have belonged to that dreary sea- son of the fall when gray clouds hang low and children lopg for the 0SS tnat will bring the néeded cheer Of%auly lamp-light. g 3 EY _The streets were silent and- deferted’ Now and then, perhaps some grocer's wagon would lurch along. its driver slap- ;In‘ the streaming rubber blanket on his orse's back with his wet reins.. and sometimes one of the town's tattered old hacks would rattle by. Here and there, near some cobbler's shanty; or by the door of a little barber shop, ward workers huudled in shivering groups, and every little while men'drove out of town In bug- gles or buckboards, to look after the cau- cuses that were to be held that afternoon in the townships; but the people them- seives, as their habit ever was in Grand Pralrle, evinced littie Interest in the polit- ical contest at this critical stage of its development and seemed to be indoors walting for the rain to cease: iet a great battle w; rn‘o; in Grand Prairie that day an Gdrwood’s law oMices were once more serving as political headquarters. All morning long the crowd of workers whom he nad enrolled in his new organization thronged the outer office, each of them wishing to seize Garwood a moment for himself, as if his suggestion, or his complaint, or the news he bore was such that Garwood himself alone should hear it. ‘Their clothes were soaked with the rain, their wet boots tracked the floor with mud, their umbrellas trickled little streams of dirty water. The alr, already saturated with neavy molsture and foggy with the smoke of tobacco, which daoes for the smoke of battle in these political contests, was foul with the fumes of beer and whisky, while the whiff of an onifon now and then brought to mind the long saloon of Chris Stelsfloss below where the pink mosquito-netting had been re- mm'ed for that day from the free-lunch table. In his private office, his rumpled hair falling to his haggard eyes, his cravat un- tled, his long coat talls gathered behind the hands that were thrust deep in his trousers pockets, Garwood strode back and forth silent and savage, chewing the cigar that smoked away in the corner of his mouth. Pusey was with him, tapping in and out of the room, and so was Hale. Hale had been. there all morning, for, having no acqualntance in Grand Prairle, he could do nothing outside, and so he #at, feeling that his stolid, imponderable presence must somehow be a comfort to arwood. fid. ‘besides, he did not know ow he could decently get away. Garwood spoke to neither of them; but -walked the floor and rolled his cigar round and round In his mouth, spitting out pleces of it now and then savagely. Once at the end of the beat he was pac- ing he gauled by the revolving bookcasée in which he had kept his working library, the books he had needed at his elbow when he was digging.into the law. These books, because of that rapid displacement which goes on in law libraries, so swiftly do the appellate courts grind out new decisions, were now out of date; the statutes were two sessions behind the Legislature, the digest had been super- seded by a new edition, the last six num- bers of his set of the reports were miss- ng. But he did not observe these things— a little volume had caught his eye and he picked it up, blew the dust from it, and opened it. And as his glance fell on its pages, its well-read remembered pages, his face softened and there passed across its darkness the faint reflection of a smile. 1t was not a law book, for Garwood held it tenderly in his hand, ‘as though he loved it, and men do not learn to love law books. It was a little leather covered copy of Epictetus, with ¢he imprint of a London publisher on its title-page, one that Emily had given him, and he had read it through and through, and It bore many loving marks on its margins. It had lain there on that bookcase, pos- sibly untouched, certainly unopened for years. He must have tossed it down there before his first campaign—how long ago that seemed! He turned over the pages and here and there he. saw a marked passage, words that once had thrilled him, more than that, words that had comforted him, but now they were cold and dead, ‘“ey no longer had any meaning or any message for him: he wondered for a momen: why: it was so. But his mind could not -long desert its hard pressed post that day. and if for an instant he yearned for some of the peace ot the da that little book somehow stood for, he tossed it back where it had lain so long, brushed his fingers togother to fleck the dust from them and resumed his pacing. - Noon came, the clock in the high school tower struck, the bell in the fire engine house tapped. the whistle at the woolen mills blew. "The outer office was deserted; Puseyv had left-an hour before, and when Crawford and Hale suggested Incheon to Garwood he shook his head so petulantly that they were glad enough to go out and leave him alone. When they had gone he sank into his chair, sprawled his long legs out before him, and sat there scowling darkly. He sat there a long while, but firally he roused. got up. opened tre ugly wal- nut cupboard in his room, drew out a bottle and a glass and poured out for himself a gencrous draft of whisky. He drank the sturf without water, raw, and when he had taken advantage of his brief seclusion to light a cigarette, inhaling its smoke eagerly, he began to pacs the fioor again. Two or three times after that he stopped by the cupboard and took the hottle down; at last hc dld not put “it back in its hiding place, but set it out openly on his desk. Now, the times he prassed it without drinking were growing fewer and fewer. Hale was the first to return. Garwood had Yust halted by his Qesk and poured himself another drink, and he stood with hiz hand still on the bottle when Fale burst into the room. The man’'s face plainly foreboded evil tidings and he stood and stared at Garwood without speaking., as If he disliked to tell him what was on his tongue. Garwoqd had raised the glass. but with It at his lips he <topped and looked up to say: “What in hell's the matter with you, Hale: are vou drunk or crazy, or have 've seen—Balley. “‘Bailey!” Garwood slowly lowered the glass t6 the desk, as If Hale had seen something more a ghost. ere “Out on—what's that jong street? Tle was with Rankin, goin’ west." "“Ové'er to the woolen-mills?” Garwood asked. ‘1 suppose so,"” sald Hale. *You see, after Crawford and I'd got a bite to eat “and gulped it, making a wry face. over at that restaurant on the other side of the square—what's the name of 1t?" “’Oh, damn the name!” exclaimed Gar- od. “Go on.” “Well, anyways, after that I went out to try an’ do somethin’, but about ail I could do was to hire "beut half a dozen hobos who were goin' through from Chi- cago, and I was takin' them down to En- right so's he could vote 'em at all the prim'ries, you kmow, and I happened to look up and there I see Balley.” ‘“What was he doing. did you say?”’ asked Garwood with the morbid fascina- tion the recital of some painful fact has for the one {t most concerns. “Oh, he was -just moseyin' along the street with Rankin, you know that siow, splay-footed, knock-kneed way he has of walking, don’t you? Oh—ihere’'s no doubt it's him Garwood slowly swallowed his drink, and had Jjust turned to speak again, when Pusey entered. “Did you know Balley's here?’ he de- manded. Pusey walked straight to the desk, and he had lifted the bottle before he re- plied: d “When did you hear?” Garwood asked. “Just now. I repaired here instantly to apprise you." “You did! sald Garwood. “Well, where In hell are you going to repair to ing- about it? Where next to do some did you see him?" “I saw him at the Cassell House, and Rankin—'" “Yes—Rankin,” sald Garwood. He ceased to give attention to Pusey, since the climax of his tale was alreadv too fully known, but repeated Rankin's name in the reminiscent tone not likely to inspire pleasure {n the breast of Ran- kin's successor, as if one should sigh for a first wife in the presence of the sec- ond. *Jim Rankin,” he repeated, “that’s the worst of it. “You miss Rankin, heh?"* piped Pusey, squinting at the drink he was pouring. Garwood turned on him then, and shouted angrily: “Yes, damn you, I do! If he were here now he’d have a suggestion; he'd have some resources. What have you to offer?” - Pusey lifted the glass and even turn- ed deliberately to hold it more In range with the window, so that the light could stream through it and bring out the rich, warm coloss of the liquor. And then, carefully tiiting the drink into his gul- let, he put the glass down, sucked his mustache into his mouth to get the last lingering taste of the whisky, and sald: “Buy him.” “Who?" said Garwood. “‘Rankin.” Garwood took an impetuous step to- ward Pusey, and’ then balting suddenly he stared at him in utter amazement. Hale turned on -the littie editor, a look no less startled, but quickly glanced around at Garwood to see what he would do. The anger that had flushed Gar- wobd’s face slowly died out of it, and his lips began to.curl into a mordant smile that slowly took on in turn the qualities ot contempt and pity. “Pusey,” he said, not at all in the tone that Hale had. expected to hear. break from him, -“Pusey,” he said, “don’t be foolish.” ¥ “Foolish®™’ repeated Pusey seriously. *Is it so foolish, think you?' “Damnably foolish,” ‘Garwood replied. “Pardon me,”. Pusey said, “you evi- dently misunderstood me.” ~“‘Misunderstood u? . Dido't you sug- gest buying Jim nkin? You evidently don’'t know men." “Did |1 say Jim- Rankin?’ answered Pusey. “If I'dld, I meant Jim Rankin's men. “'Oh,”” Garwood and Hale exclaimed to- gether -in .a weak, unconvinced note. Garwood looked at Pusey more chari- tably, and Pusey returned the look by one’ of - subtlest meaning. - Thus they stood and gazed .at each other for a whole minute, that seemed, in the stili- ness that dripped into the room, a whole age. It was, in the end, Hale who_spoke. We'll have " to do something, turn some - sort of a trick, and do it quick. Zeph Bailey ain’t here. for ‘nething!” Hadle had drawn his waten from his pocket. < “What time is {t? Garwood asked. Hale looked at his watch ;fsjn. “Two-thirty.” he replie¢. He had once said Gar- beer a railroader. v “The ‘bank closes” at four,” wood. He began slowly and hesitat- ingly to button his walistcoat, and as though to occupy some irresolute mo- ment that awalted the formation of big issues, he poured himself another drink. An- other moment passed while the two men stoad narrowly watching him. “The polls close at seven, don't they?"* he asked. know but they do,” replied “Don't Pusey. ‘Then:Garwood, with the firmness of a final decision, put his hat on his head. “‘You wait here,” he said. Then he bolted from the room. X The old ramshackle hack that had made its stand in front of the Cassell House so long that it had acquired the status ‘of a ‘local institution was tear- ing furiously out on avenue. The appedrance. of this ancient vehicle -out- side its proper habitat, usuaily betoken- ed some emergency, and when Emily, with_an ear keen for omens that day. heard the rattle of -its rheumatic joints far down the street, and when she saw it verify her impression of disaster by turning in at the carriage gate and roll- ing up under the dripping trees, she flew to the door with her face as white as if she had seen a messenger boy coming with a telegram. . . When she saw the dcor of the hack burst open before the hack itself could come to a stop. and Jeromse imperil his bones by leaping out between its wheels, she was relieved to have him whole and sound before her eyes, for she had half expected to see his limp form borne in by careful atiendants. Her fears were partly realized when she saw his gray face and the blue circles that lay dnder his eyes, and they were expressed In the breathless voice In which she ex- claimed, as he leaped up the steps: “Jerome! What is it “Come in here—quick,” he sald. She followed him at speed, imploring him to confess that he was ill. He did not an- swer, but led the way in hot haste to the sitting-room, and then across that to Emily's lttle writing desk, which stood open in the bay-window. She watched him in wonderment as he fum- bled in the breast of his coat and produc- ed at last a paper, which, rustling forth, he spread before her on the desk. Then he seized a pen, plunged it in the ink, and pushing her into the chair he had dragged up to the desk, he id: ~ "Here Em—sign this—quick! She looked at him in amazement that each moment widened her eyes the more; looked at him and then looked at the paper be heid to the leaf of her desk with a trembling finger. She took the pen mechanically. ‘‘Here.”” he said. jerking out his words; “right there—under my name. You're to sign with me.” She noted the blaze in his eyes: the odor of tobacco and liquor he exhaled oppressed her; she looked from him to the paper on the desk, then back to him again. In her bewilderment she gasped: Why—what is it for?" “Oh, It's a note!” he said, crossly, while his brows gathered In his im- patience. “Sign it. quick! I haven't a minute to lose! I'll explain it to you afterward.” She looked again into his brilllant eyes, she feit his tainted breath upon her face, then something of his own fever of haste caused her heart to leap, and she put her name to the rote below where Jerome had scrawled his own. Garwood snatched up the note and thrust it back in his pocket. Then he turned to go. But Emily arose al’\r:l, caught him. “Jerome! Dear! What is it! What has happened? What is it for The tumult of his troubled soul broke forth and he poured it out upon her. “It's for money—money—money!" h cried, and he smote the unstabie little desk with his fist, makin, it rocl “What is everything for in these days His breath came hard and fast, the blus crescents in which his eyes burned deep- ened perceptibly, and his eyes flamed as if all the fires of all excitement were abeut to leap out. In his cheeks, now of an unusual pallor, two red spots glowed. “But what Is the money for?” she per- sisted, still clinging to him as he backed away from her. “Tell me—won't you?" “It's_ for votes—votes—votes! Votes that I need more to-day than I ever needed them! “Oh, Jerome!” she ecried. “Don’t don’t say that, don't talk that way! Wait —wait. ~dear, sit down until you're he roared. calmer. “‘Calmer!" ‘almer! With all my enemies at my heels.™ 1 don’t like the sound of “But, dear, that. It would be better if you were beaten honorabl “Honorably!"” he sneered. ‘“Honorably! 10 you kndw what it means to me to be beaten now? Do you know what it would mean to you? Do you want to go to the poorhouse?” He stopped in his mad rush of words and flung out his jaw at her pug- naciously. Emily stood trying to hold her hus- band’s wild unsteady eyes in her own gaze for a moment. ““Why, Jerome,” she said in low, even accents, “it would be as bad as—as—as that story they told of you in your first campaign!” His face without relaxing took on the ockery of a smile, then he laughed harshly. The tone of the laugh shud- dered through Emily. She had released her hold on him, and row she teok a step backward. Her lips ‘were parted and at last she spoke, her words coming reluctantly from her rthroat. It scarcely above a whisper that she said: “Was that all—true?” She saw the conviction in his eves be- fore it came to its verification on his lips. He laughed again, the same harsh laugh as before. “True!” he cried. *“Of course true, you poor little fool!" The words brought a cry from her, and, clasping her hands before her face, she turned and sank into the chair and put her head down on the desk. Garwood stared at took a step toward her. it was He drew rcarer | her awhile, then . l AS