Joe's old darkey cook let me in, and, after a moment, came to say I might go into Mr. Lane's room; Mr. Lane wanted to see me. Joe was lying very flat on his back, but with his face turned toward the door, and beside him sat Laura Rainey, their thin hands clasped together. I stopped on the threshold with the door half opened. “Come in,” said Joe weakly. “Hector made it, I'm sure.” “Yes,” I answered, and in earnest. “He's a great man.” Joe's face quivered with a pain that did not come from his hurt. “Oh, it's knowing that, that makes me feel like such a scoundrel,” he said. “I suppose you've come to congratulate me.” “Yes,” I said, “the doctor says it's a wonderful case, and that you're one of the lucky ones with a charmed life, thank God!” Joe smiled sadly at Miss Rainey. “He hasn't heard,” he said. Then she gave me her left hand, aot relinquishing Joe's with her right. “We were married this morning,” she said, “just after the convention began.” The tears came into Joe's eyes as she spoke. “It's a shame, isn't it?” he said to me. “You must see it so. And I the kind of man I am, the town drunkard--” Then his wife leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Even so it was right--and so beautiful for me,” she said. PART II MRS. PROTHEROE When Alonzo Tawson took his seat as the Senator from Stackpole in the upper branch of the General Assembly of the State, an expression of pleasure and of greatness appeared to be permanently imprinted upon his countenance. He felt that if he had not quite arrived at all which he meant to make his own, at least he had emerged upon the arena where he was to win it, and he looked about him for a few other strong spirits with whom to construct a focus of power which should control the senate. The young man had not long to look, for within a week after the beginning of the session these others showed themselves to his view, rising above the general level of mediocrity and timidity, party-leaders and chiefs of faction, men who were on their feet continually, speaking half-a-dozen times a day, freely and loudly. To these, and that house at large, he felt it necessary to introduce himself by a speech which must prove him one of the elect, and he awaited impatiently an opening. Alonzo had no timidity himself. He was not one of those who first try their voices on motions to adjourn, written in form and handed out to novices by presiding officers and leaders. He was too conscious of his own gifts, and he had been “accustomed to speaking” ever since his days in the Stackpole City Seminary. He was under the impression, also, that his appearance alone would command attention from his colleagues and the gallery. He was tall; his hair was long, with a rich waviness, rippling over both brow and collar, and he had, by years of endeavour, succeeded in moulding his features to present an aspect of stern and thoughtful majesty whenever he “spoke.”