The Mayor of WarwickHopkins, Herbert M. (Herbert Müller)
General
The Mayor of Warwick
Hopkins, Herbert M. (Herbert Müller)
Mayors -- Fiction; New England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Social classes -- United States -- Fiction
"You have good reason to be proud of your _protege_, Miss Wycliffe," he
answered, kindling with generous enthusiasm. "Emmet outclassed his
opponent completely--in style, in delivery, in subject-matter, and, as
it seemed to me, in the justice of his cause. I was so amazed and
impressed that I carried the atmosphere of the thing with me
until--until I dropped into the chair beside you, and then I forgot all
about it."
She moved uneasily and toyed with the flowers in her lap, then glanced
up at him, but not with the glance of a woman who is ready to listen to
a declaration of love. His next words were determined by that look,
and there was no little self-renunciation in his pursuance of a subject
he would fain have dropped for one nearer his heart. He had to remind
himself once more of the shortness of their acquaintance, and of her
natural curiosity concerning one of the crises in a struggle which had
interested her so keenly.
"It only shows how far one's judgments fall below the mark sometimes,"
he went on. "Not till this afternoon did I get a true perspective of
the man, when I saw him standing there, perfectly self-possessed and
powerful, reading his speech"--
"Reading!" she interrupted.
"Yes, reading, and actually gaining in effectiveness by doing so. It
seems that each speaker was allowed only twenty minutes, and rather
than run the risk of going off on a tangent, he had written the whole
thing out--but he knew it practically by heart."
"It was like him," she commented. "He's clever. But what did he say?"
Her eager interest, her knowledge of the man, the compliment she paid
him, filled Leigh with bitterness of which he was ashamed. He found
himself under the necessity of describing to the woman he loved the
triumph of another man, who had, as he now saw clearly, appealed to her
imagination. To be sure, it was nothing more than that, but as far as
it went, it hurt his own cause to play the role of the narrating
messenger. He was focussing her attention upon an exciting drama in
which he had borne the inglorious part of witness; but he was too proud
a man to be ungenerous in his comments, or to let her see the duality
of his mental state.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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