Maine -- Fiction; Political fiction; Politicians -- Fiction
After the dissolving of the joint caucus he escorted Madeleine to the
council-chamber, where the new Governor was holding his impromptu
reception. There were no shadows on the faces which pressed closely
around him. All the politicians of the State were there, eager to be the
first to congratulate him. Their fears had been somewhat allayed. In
political circles it was well understood that Waymouth stood for a
clean-up. It had been hinted that his programme would be drastic. The
members of the machine, more intimately in the secrets of the
convention, had expected that the old Roman would sound the first blast
of the charge in his inaugural address. His moderateness cheered them.
Harlan found congratulation sweetening every comment.
The General received the young couple with marked graciousness.
"Governor Waymouth, you have convinced me to-day that you are the
apostle of universal salvation for the wicked--in politics," said the
girl. "I hope the doctrine will be accepted."
"In that belief you are safe companion for my first disciple," he
returned, humoring her jest. The crowd carried them on.
"I believe that, too," Harlan murmured.
"Universal salvation according to the new political creed?"
"I'm not thinking about politics. I'm not thinking much about anything
else just now except you. During the Governor's address it came over me
suddenly what wise counsel you gave me. If I had you for an adviser all
the rest of my life I could amount to more in the world than I ever can
without you."
She glanced at him sharply.
"I mean that," he insisted. "Will you be my adviser for the rest of my
life?"
It was crude, blunt, and sudden proposal. The throngs were eddying about
them. They were jostled at the moment by the Toms, Dicks, and Harrys of
the legislative concourse. Curious eyes surveyed them. Ears were near
by.
"I can't help saying it here and now," he rushed on. "I--"
"My dear Harlan, you don't mean to say that you are proposing to me here
in the face and eyes of this crowd?" She said it with sudden amazed
mirth dancing in her eyes, but with a note of satire in her tone.
"I do mean it!" He cried it so loudly that men turned their heads to
stare at this earnest young man who was protesting his faith to the
handsome daughter of Luke Presson.
"Hush!" she cried, sharply, and then pulled him along. She spoke low. "I
don't think you have enough humor in you to realize just what you have
done, Harlan. I have found humor lacking in you. You have picked out the
lobby of the State House, in the middle of the biggest crowd of all the
year, as the 'love's bower' for an offer of marriage. You say you mean
it as an offer of marriage. But what you really did was to ask me to
attach myself to you as general adviser. You can hire a clairvoyant who
will do that much for you, and I doubt if you would engage the
clairvoyant as publicly as you have just tried to engage me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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