Harley's ring was not answered at once, and as he stood on the step he glanced back at the city, which, in the dark, showed only the formless bulk of houses and the cold electric lights here and there. Then he heard a light step, and the door was thrown open. He handed his card to the maid, merely saying, "Mr. and Mrs. Grayson," and waited to be shown into the parlor1. But the girl, whose face he could not see, as the hall was dimly lighted, held it in her hand, looking first at the name and then at him. Harley, feeling a slight impatience2, stepped inside and said:
"I assure you that I am the real owner of it--that is, of the name on the card."
"What proof have you?" she asked, calmly.
Harley had heard recently many phases of the servant-girl question, and this development of it amused him. She must be one of those ignorant and stubborn foreigners--a Swede or a German.
"Suppose you take the proof for granted and risk it," he said. "Mr. and Mrs. Grayson can quickly decide for you, and tell you whether I am right."
"They have gone out for a little walk," she said, still standing3 in the way, "and so many strange people are coming here now that I don't know whether to show you in or not. Maybe you are a reporter?"
"Well, and what then?"
"Or worse; perhaps you are a photographer."
"If I am, you can see that I have no camera."
"You might have a little one hidden under your overcoat."
"It is night, and cameras are used in the sunshine."
"We have electric lights."
Harley began to feel provoked. There were limits to perverseness4, or should be.
"I am expected to dinner by Mr. and Mrs. Grayson," he said. "Will you kindly5 cease to keep me waiting and show me in? I shall not steal any of the furniture."
The maid was annoyingly calm.
"Mr. and Mrs. Grayson have not yet returned from a little walk which they were afraid to undertake until it grew dark," she said. "But I think I'll risk it and show you in if you will hold up your hand and swear that you haven't a camera hidden under your overcoat."
Harley's sense of humor came to his aid, and he held up his hand.
"I do solemnly swear," he said.
He tried to see the face of this maid, who showed a perversity6 that was unequalled in an experience by no means limited, but she stood in the duskiest part of the dim hall, and he failed. He knew merely that she was tall and slender, and when she turned to lead the way he heard a faint sound like the light tinkle7 of a suppressed laugh. Harley started, and his face flushed with anger. He had encountered often those who tried to snub him, and usually he had been able to take care of himself, but to be laughed at by a housemaid was a new thing in his experience, and he was far from liking8 it.
She indicated a small parlor with a wave of her hand and said:
"You can go in there and wait. You have promised not to steal the furniture, and, as the room contains only a piano, a table, and some chairs, all of which are too big to be hidden under your overcoat, I think that you will keep your promise."
She sped lightly away, leaving Harley trembling so much with amazement9 and anger that he forgot for at least two minutes to sit down. When he took off his overcoat he murmured: "Before Mr. Grayson thinks of ruling the United States he should discipline his own household."
The house was quiet; he heard no one stirring anywhere. The light from an electric lamp in the street shone into the parlor, and by its rays he saw Mr. and Mrs. Grayson coming up the street. Then the maid had told the truth about the "little walk," and he was early.
He leaned back in his chair and watched the pair as they approached their own house. Evidently they had stolen these few minutes in the dark to be alone with each other, and Harley sympathized with them, because it would be a long time before the wife could claim again that her husband was her own. They entered a side-gate, passed through the lawn, and a minute later were welcoming Harley.
"We did not expect to be gone so long," said Mrs. Grayson; "but we see that you have found the right place."
"Oh yes," said Harley; "a maid showed me in." Then he added: "I am very glad, indeed, to have been invited here, but if you want any more privacy I don't think you should have asked me; my kind will soon be down upon you like a swarm10 of locusts11."
Mr. Grayson laughed and took a stack of telegraph envelopes six inches thick from a table.
"You are right, Mr. Harley," he said. "They will be here to-morrow, ready for the start. There are more than twenty applications for space on our train, and all of them shall have it. I don't think that the boys and I shall quarrel."
Mrs. Grayson excused herself, and presently they were summoned to dinner. Stepping out of a dusky hall into a brilliantly lighted room, Harley was dazzled for a moment, but he found himself bowing when she introduced him to "My niece, Miss Morgan, of Idaho." Then he saw a tall, slender girl, with a singularly frank and open countenance12, and a hand extended to him as familiarly as if she had known him all her life. Harley, although he had not expected the offer of the hand, took it and gave it one little shake. He felt an unaccountable embarrassment13. He saw a faint twinkle in the girl's eye, as if she found something amusing in his appearance, and he feared that he had made a mistake in coming in evening-dress. He flushed a little and felt a slight resentment14 towards Mrs. Grayson, because she had not told him of this niece; but he was relieved for the moment by an introduction to the third guest, Mrs. Boyle, an elderly lady, also a relative, but more distantly so.
Mrs. Boyle merely bowed, and at once returned Harley to the custody15 of the niece from Idaho, of whom he felt some fear, her singular freedom of manner and the faint twinkle that still lurked16 in her eye putting him on edge. Moreover, he was assigned to a seat next to her, and, as obviously he was expected to entertain her, his fear increased. This girl was not only Western, but Far Western, and, in his opinion, there was none so wise who could tell what she would do or say. He repeated to himself the word "Idaho," and it sounded remote, rough, and wild.
"Uncle James tells me that you are a correspondent, the representative of the New York _Gazette_," she said.
"Yes."
"And that you are to go with him on the campaign and write brilliant accounts of the things that never happen."
"I am sure that Mr. Grayson was not your authority for such a statement," said Harley, with a smile, although he did not wholly relish17 her banter18.
"Oh no, Uncle James is a very polite man, and very considerate of the feelings of others."
"Then it is a supposition of your own?"
"Oh no, not a supposition at all; the New York newspapers sometimes reach us even in Idaho."
Harley did not respond to her banter, thinking it premature19, as she had never seen him before. He could not forget the reserve and shyness natural to him, and he felt a sense of hostility20. He glanced at her, and saw a cheek ruddier than the cheeks of American women usually are, and a chin with an unusually firm curve. Her hair was dark brown, and when the electric light flashed upon her it seemed to be streaked21 with dull gold. But the chin held him with an odd sort of fascination22, and he strove to read her character in it. "Bold and resolute," he decided23, "but too Western, entirely24 too Far Western. She needs civilizing25." He was rather glad that he was going away with Mr. Grayson on the morrow and would not see her again.
"I should think," she said; "that the life of a newspaper correspondent is extremely interesting. You have all the pleasures and none of the responsibilities; you go to war, but you do not fight; you enter great political campaigns, but you cannot be defeated; you are always with the victor and never with the vanquished26; you are not bound by geographical27 limits nor by facts, nor--"
"Excuse me, Miss Morgan," interrupted Harley, with dignity. "In my profession, as in all others, there are irresponsible persons, but the great majority of its followers28 are conscientious29 and industrious30. If you only knew how--"
"That sounds as if it had been prepared in advance," she exclaimed. "I am sure that you have used it many times before."
"You must not mind Sylvia," said Mrs. Grayson, smiling her grave, quiet smile. "She seldom means what she says, or says what she means."
"Aunt Anna," exclaimed Miss Morgan, "you are really too hard upon your beloved niece. I never before dined with the staff correspondent of a great New York newspaper, and I am really seeking information. Now I wish to know if in his profession imagination is the most valuable quality, as I have heard it said."
"I have heard great tales about them and their daring," she persisted. "I am not sure that even now he has not a camera concealed32 under his coat."
"Why, Sylvia, what a strange thing to say!" exclaimed Mrs. Grayson.
But Harley started in his seat and flushed a deep red. "Miss Morgan, I shall have to ask your pardon," he exclaimed.
Mr. and Mrs. Grayson looked at them in surprise.
"Here is something that we do not understand," said Mr. Grayson.
"Why, Uncle James, there is nothing strange about what I have said," continued Miss Morgan, with the most innocent face. "I thought all of them carried cameras, else how do we get all the wonderful pictures?"
Harley felt inclined to tell the entire table his experience, but on second thought he remained silent, as the girl from Idaho began to pique33 him, and he was not willing that the advantage should remain wholly with her, especially when she was from the very Far West. So he affected34 complete indifference35, and, when they asked him about his adventures in the recent war on the other side of the world, he talked freely about them, which he had never done before, because, like most Americans, he was a modest man, enduring in silence lectures on the sin of boasting from others who boasted as they breathed. Most of the time he spoke36 apparently37 to Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, but he kept a side-look upon the girl from Idaho who had played with him and humiliated38 him.
She became silent, as if satisfied with the flight of the arrows that had gone already from her quiver, and seemed to listen with an air of becoming respect; but Harley surprised once or twice the lurking39 twinkle in her eye, and he was not sure that she was wholly subdued40. Opposition41 and difficulties always increased his resolve, and he doubled his efforts. He spoke lightly of the kingdoms and republics whose fortunes he had followed in a casual way and of the men whom the heave of affairs had brought to the surface for a space, and always he kept that side-look upon her. These relations, surely, would impress, because what could she, a child of the Idaho wilds, know of the great world? And its very mystery would heighten to her its coloring and effect.
Harley could talk well, all the better because he talked so rarely of himself, and even now it was of himself only by indirection, because he spoke chiefly of men whom he had known and deeds that he had witnessed. Watching the girl closely with that side-look, he did not see the twinkle reappear in her eye; instead she sat demure42 and silent, and he judged that he had taken her beyond her depth. At last he stopped, and she said, in a subdued tone:
"Did I not tell you, Uncle James, that imagination was the great quality the correspondents need?"
Harley flushed, but he could not keep from joining Mr. Grayson in his laugh. The candidate, besides laughing, glanced affectionately at the girl. It was evident that his niece was a favorite with Jimmy Grayson.
"I shall ask Miss Morgan to tell me about Idaho," said Harley.
"It's quite wild, you know," she said, gravely; "and all the people need taming. But it would be a great task."
When they went back to the drawing-room Harley and the girl were behind the others, and he lingered a moment beside her.
"Miss Morgan," he said, "I want to ask your pardon again. You know it was in the dark, and mine was an honest mistake."
"I will if you will tell me one thing."
"What is it?"
"Have you really got a camera with you?"
"If I had I should take a picture of you and not of Mr. Grayson."
Harley remained awhile longer, and Miss Morgan's treatment remained familiar and somewhat disconcerting, rather like the manner of an elder sister to her young brother than of a girl to a man whom she had known only two or three hours. When he rose to leave, she again offered him her hand with perfect coolness. Harley, in a perfunctory manner, expressed his regret that he was not likely to see her again, as he was to leave the next day with Mr. Grayson. The provoking twinkle appeared again in the corner of her eyes.
"I don't intend that you shall forget me, Mr. Harley," she said, "because you _are_ to see me again. When you come to Washington in search of news, I shall be there as the second lady of the land--Aunt Anna will be first."
"Oh, of course, I forgot that," said Harley, but he was not sure that she had Washington in mind, remembering Mrs. Grayson's assertion that she did not always mean what she said nor say what she meant.
The night was quite dark, and when he had gone a few yards Harley stopped and looked back at the house. He felt a distinct sense of relief, because he was gone from the presence of the mountain girl who was not of his kind, and whom he did not know how to take; being a man, he could not retort upon her in her own fashion, and she was able to make him feel cheap.
The drawing-room was still lighted, and he saw the Idaho girl pass in front of one of the low windows, her figure completely outlined by the luminous43 veil. It seemed to him to express a singular, flexible grace--perhaps the result of mountain life--but he was loath44 to admit it, as she troubled him. Harley, although young, had been in many lands and among many people. He had seen many women who were beautiful, and some who were brilliant, but it had been easy to forget every one of them; they hardly made a ripple45 in the stream of his work, and often it was an effort to recall them. He had expected to dismiss this Idaho girl in the same manner, but she would not go, and he was intensely annoyed with himself.
He went to the telegraph-office, wrote and filed his despatch46, and then, lighting47 a cigar, strolled slowly through the streets. It was not eleven o'clock, but it seemed that everybody except himself was in bed and asleep. The lights in all the houses were out, and there was no sound whatever save that of the wind as it came in from the prairie and stirred the new foliage48 of the trees. "And this is our wicked America, for which my foreign friends used to offer me sincere condolences!" murmured Harley.
But he returned quickly to his own mental disturbance49. He felt as he used to feel on the eve of a battle that all knew was coming off, there on the other side of the world. He was then with an army which he was not at all sure was in the right; but when he sat on a hill-top in the night, looking at the flickering50 lights of the enemy ahead, and knowing that the combat would be joined at dawn, he could not resist a feeling of comradeship with that army to which, for a time--and in a sense, perhaps, alien--he belonged. Those soldiers about him became friends, and the enemy out there was an enemy for him, too. It was the same now when he was to go on a long journey with Jimmy Grayson, who stood upon a platform of which he had many doubts.
He turned back to the hotel, and when he entered the lobby a swarm of men fell upon him and demanded the instant delivery of any news which he might have and they had not. They were correspondents who had come by every train that afternoon--Hobart, Churchill, Blaisdell, Lawson, and others, making more than a score--some representing journals that would support Grayson, and others journals that would call him names, many and bad.
"We hear that you have been to dinner with the candidate," said Churchill, the representative of the New York _Monitor_, a sneering51 sheet owned by one foreigner and edited by another, which kept its eye on Europe, and considered European opinion final, particularly in regard to American affairs; "so you can tell us if it is true that he picks his teeth at table with a fork."
"You are a good man for the _Monitor_, Churchill," said Harley, sharply. "Your humor is in perfect accord with the high taste displayed, and you show the same dignity and consideration in your references to political opponents."
"Oh, I see," said Churchill, sneering just as he had been taught to sneer52 by the _Monitor_. "He is the first guest to dine with the Presidential nominee53, and he is overpowered by the honor."
"You shut up, Churchill!" said Hobart, another of the correspondents. "You sha'n't pick a quarrel with Harley, and you sha'n't be a mischief-maker here. There are enough of us to see that you don't."
Harley turned his back scornfully upon Churchill, who said nothing more, and began to tell his friends of Grayson.
"He is an orator," he said. "We know that by undoubted report, and his manner is simple and most agreeable. He has more of the quality called personal magnetism54 than any other man I ever saw."
"What of his ability?" asked Tremaine, the oldest of the correspondents.
Harley thought a little while before replying.
"I can't make up my mind on that point," he said. "I find in him, so far as I can see, a certain simplicity55, I might almost say an innocence56, which is remarkable57. He is unlike the other public men whom I have met, but I don't know whether this innocence indicates superficiality or a tact58 and skill lying so deep that he is able to plan an ambush59 for the best of his enemies."
"Well, we are to be with him five months," said Tremaine, "and it is our business to find out."
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1
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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4
perverseness
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| n. 乖张, 倔强, 顽固 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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7
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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8
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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9
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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11
locusts
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| n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 )；贪吃的人；破坏者；槐树 | |
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12
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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14
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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16
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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17
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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18
banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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19
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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21
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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22
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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civilizing
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| v.使文明，使开化( civilize的现在分词 ) | |
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vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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27
geographical
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| adj.地理的；地区(性)的 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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29
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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embroil
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| vt.拖累；牵连；使复杂 | |
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32
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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33
pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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34
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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36
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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37
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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39
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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40
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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41
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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42
demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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43
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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44
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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45
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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46
despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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47
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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48
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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49
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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50
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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51
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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52
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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53
nominee
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| n.被提名者；被任命者；被推荐者 | |
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54
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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55
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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56
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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57
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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58
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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59
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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