"Old gods give way to new gods," he cried. "Here is your brother. I am speaking for him. Do you ever think of him? How dare you sneer at me?" he cried. "You can crack your whip over that man's head and turn him from what in his heart and conscience he knows is right; you can crack your whip over the men who call themselves free-born American citizens and who have made you their boss--sneer at them if you like, but you have no collar on my neck. If you are a leader, why don't you lead your people to what is good and noble? Why do you stop this man in the work God sent him here to do? You would make a party hack of him, a political prostitute, something lower than the woman who walks the streets. She sells her body--this man is selling his soul."He turned, trembling and quivering, and shook his finger above the upturned face of the senator.
"What have you done with your talents, Stanton?" he cried. "What have you done with your talents?"The man in the overcoat struck the table before him with his fist so that the glasses rang.
"By God," he laughed, "I call him a better speaker than Stanton!
Livingstone's right, he IS better than Stanton--but he lacks Stanton's knack of making himself popular," he added. He looked around the table inviting approbation with a smile, but no one noticed him, nor spoke to break the silence.
Arkwright heard the words dully and felt that he was being mocked. He covered his face with his hands and stood breathing brokenly; his body was still trembling with an excitement he could not master.
Stanton rose from his chair and shook him by the shoulder. "Are you mad, Arkwright?" he cried. "You have no right to insult my guests or me. Be calm--control yourself.""What does it matter what I say?" Arkwright went on desperately.
"I am mad. Yes, that is it, I am mad. They have won and I have lost, and it drove me beside myself. I counted on you. I knew that no one else could let my people go. But I'll not trouble you again. I wish you good-night, sir, and good-bye. If I have been unjust, you must forget it."He turned sharply, but Stanton placed a detaining hand on his shoulder. "Wait," he commanded querulously; "where are you going? Will you, still--?"Arkwright bowed his head. "Yes," he answered. "I have but just time now to catch our train--my train, I mean."He looked up at Stanton and taking his hand in both of his, drew the man toward him. All the wildness and intolerance in his manner had passed, and as he raised his eyes they were full of a firm resolve.
"Come," he said simply; "there is yet time. Leave these people behind you. What can you answer when they ask what have you done with your talents?""Good God, Arkwright," the senator exclaimed angrily, pulling his hand away; "don't talk like a hymn-book, and don't make another scene. What you ask is impossible. Tell me what I can do to help you in any other way, and--""Come," repeated the young man firmly.
"The world may judge you by what you do to-night."Stanton looked at the boy for a brief moment with a strained and eager scrutiny, and then turned away abruptly and shook his head in silence, and Arkwright passed around the table and on out of the room.
A month later, as the Southern senator was passing through the reading-room of the Union Club, Livingstone beckoned to him, and handing him an afternoon paper pointed at a paragraph in silence.
The paragraph was dated Sagua la Grande, and read:
"The body of Henry Arkwright, an American civil engineer, was brought into Sagua to-day by a Spanish column. It was found lying in a road three miles beyond the line of forts. Arkwright was surprised by a guerilla force while attempting to make his way to the insurgent camp, and on resisting was shot. The body has been handed over to the American consul for interment. It is badly mutilated."Stanton lowered the paper and stood staring out of the window at the falling snow and the cheery lights and bustling energy of the avenue.
"Poor fellow," he said, "he wanted so much to help them. And he didn't accomplish anything, did he?"Livingstone stared at the older man and laughed shortly.
"Well, I don't know," he said. "He died. Some of us only live."
