University of Virginia Library

42. CHAPTER XLII.

MR. Buckstone's campaign was brief—much briefer than
he supposed it would be. He began it purposing to
win Laura without being won himself; but his experience
was that of all who had fought on that field before him; he
diligently continued his effort to win her, but he presently
found that while as yet he could not feel entirely certain of
having won her, it was very manifest that she had won him.
He had made an able fight, brief as it was, and that at least
was to his credit. He was in good company, now; he walked
in a leash of conspicuous captives. These unfortunates followed
Laura helplessly, for whenever she took a prisoner he
remained her slave henceforth. Sometimes they chafed in
their bondage; sometimes they tore themselves free and said
their serfdom was ended; but sooner or later they always
came back penitent and worshiping. Laura pursued her usual
course: she encouraged Mr. Buckstone by turns, and by turns
she harassed him; she exalted him to the clouds at one time,
and at another she dragged him down again. She constituted

him chief champion of the Knobs University bill, and he
accepted the position, at first reluctantly, but later as a valued
means of serving her—he even came to look upon it as a
piece of great good fortune, since it brought him into such
frequent contact with her.

Through him she learned that the Hon. Mr. Trollop was a
bitter enemy of her bill. He urged her not to attempt to
influence Mr. Trollop in any way, and explained that whatever
she might attempt in that direction would surely be
used against her and with damaging effect.

She at first said she knew Mr. Trollop, “and was aware
that he had a Blank-Blank;”[1] but Mr. Buckstone said that
while he was not able to conceive what so curious a phrase as
Blank-Blank might mean, and had no wish to pry into the
matter, since it was probably private, he “would nevertheless
venture the blind assertion that nothing would answer in this
particular case and during this particular session but to be
exceedingly wary and keep clear away from Mr. Trollop;
any other course would be fatal.”

It seemed that nothing could be done. Laura was seriously
troubled. Everything was looking well, and yet it was plain
that one vigorous and determined enemy might eventually
succeed in overthrowing all her plans. A suggestion came
into her mind presently and she said:

“Can't you fight against his great Pension bill and bring
him to terms?”

“Oh, never; he and I are sworn brothers on that measure;
we work in harness and are very loving—I do everything I
possibly can for him there. But I work with might and main
against his Immigration bill,—as pertinaciously and as vindictively,
indeed, as he works against our University. We
hate each other through half a conversation and are all affection
through the other half. We understand each other.
He is an admirable worker outside the capitol; he will do
more for the Pension bill than any other man could do; I
wish he would make the great speech on it which he wants

to make—and then I would make another and we would be
safe.”

“Well if he wants to make a great speech why doesn't he do
it?”

Visitors interrupted the conversation and Mr. Buckstone
took his leave. It was not of the least moment to Laura that
her question had not been answered, inasmuch as it concerned
a thing which did not interest her; and yet, human being
like, she thought she would have liked to know. An opportunity
occurring presently, she put the same question to
another person and got an answer that satisfied her. She
pondered a good while, that night, after she had gone to bed,
and when she finally turned over to go to sleep, she had
thought out a new scheme. The next evening at Mrs. Gloverson's
party, she said to Mr. Buckstone:

“I want Mr. Trollop to make his great speech on the Pension
bill.”

“Do you! But you remember I was interrupted, and did
not explain to you—”

“Never mind, I know. You must make him make that
speech. I very particularly desire it.”

“Oh, it is easy to say make him do it, but how am I to
make him?”

“It is perfectly easy; I have thought it all out.”

She then went into the details. At length Mr. Buckstone
said:

“I see now. I can manage it, I am sure. Indeed I wonder
he never thought of it himself—there are no end of precedents.
But how is this going to benefit you, after I have
managed it? There is where the mystery lies.”

“But I will take care of that. It will benefit me a great
deal.”

“I only wish I could see how; it is the oddest freak. You
seem to go the furthest around to get at a thing—but you are
in earnest, aren't you?”

“Yes, I am, indeed.”

[ILLUSTRATION]

OPENING NEGOTIATIONS.

[Description: 499EAF. Page 375. In-line image of a tondo with a party scene in the center of it.]

“Very well, I will do it—but why not tell me how you
imagine it is going to help you?”

“I will, by and by.—Now there is nobody talking to him.
Go straight and do it, there's a good fellow.”

A moment or two later the two sworn friends of the Pension
bill were talking together, earnestly, and seemingly
unconscious of the moving throng about them. They talked
an hour, and then Mr. Buckstone came back and said:

“He hardly fancied it at first, but he fell in love with it
after a bit. And we have made a compact, too. I am to
keep his secret and he is to spare me, in future, when he
gets ready to denounce the supporters of the University bill
—and I can easily believe he will keep his word on this occasion.”

A fortnight elapsed, and the University bill had gathered
to itself many friends, meantime. Senator Dilworthy began
to think the harvest was ripe. He conferred with Laura privately.
She was able to tell him exactly how the House
would vote. There was a majority—the bill would pass,

unless weak members got frightened at the last, and deserted—a
thing pretty likely to occur. The Senator said:

“I wish we had one more good strong man. Now Trollop
ought to be on our side, for he is a friend of the negro. But
he is against us, and is our bitterest opponent. If he would
simply vote No, but keep quiet and not molest us, I would
feel perfectly cheerful and content. But perhaps there is no
use in thinking of that.”

“Why I laid a little plan for his benefit two weeks ago.
I think he will be tractable, maybe. He is to come here to-night.”

“Look out for him, my child! He means mischief, sure.
It is said that he claims to know of improper practices having
been used in the interest of this bill, and he thinks he
sees a chance to make a great sensation when the bill
comes up. Be wary. Be very, very careful, my dear.
Do your very ablest talking, now. You can convince a man
of anything, when you try. You must convince him that if
anything improper has been done, you at least are ignorant
of it and sorry for it. And if you could only persuade
him out of his hostility to the bill, too—but don't overdo
the thing; don't seem too anxious, dear.”

“I won't; I'll be ever so careful. I'll talk as sweetly to
him as if he were my own child! You may trust me—indeed
you may.”

The door-bell rang.

“That is the gentleman now,” said Laura. Senator Dilworthy
retired to his study.

Laura welcomed Mr. Trollop, a grave, carefully dressed
and very respectable looking man, with a bald head, standing
collar and old fashioned watch seals.

“Promptness is a virtue, Mr. Trollop, and I perceive that
you have it. You are always prompt with me.”

“I always meet my engagements, of every kind, Miss
Hawkins.”

“It is a quality which is rarer in the world than it has

been, I believe. I wished to see you on business, Mr. Trollop.”

“I judged so. What can I do for you?”

“You know my bill—the Knobs University bill?”

“Ah, I believe it is your bill. I had forgotten. Yes, I
know the bill.”

“Well, would you mind telling me your opinion of it?”

“Indeed, since you seem to ask it without reserve, I am
obliged to say that I do not regard it favorably. I have not
seen the bill itself, but from what I can hear, it—it—well, it
has a bad look about it. It—”

“Speak it out—never fear.”

“Well, it—they say it contemplates a fraud upon the government.”

“Well?” said Laura tranquilly.

“Well! I say `Well?' too.”

“Well, suppose it were a fraud—which I feel able to deny
—would it be the first one?”

“You take a body's breath away! Would you—did you
wish me to vote for it? Was that what you wanted to see
me about?”

“Your instinct is correct. I did want you—I do want you
to vote for it.”

“Vote for a fr—for a measure which is generally believed
to be at least questionable? I am afraid we cannot come to
an understanding, Miss Hawkins.”

“No, I am afraid not—if you have resumed your principles,
Mr. Trollop.”

“Did you send for me merely to insult me? It is time for
me to take my leave, Miss Hawkins.”

“No—wait a moment. Don't be offended at a trifle. Do
not be offish and unsociable. The Steamship Subsidy bill was
a fraud on the government. You voted for it, Mr. Trollop,
though you always opposed the measure until after you had
an interview one evening with a certain Mrs. McCarter at
her house. She was my agent. She was acting for me. Ah,
that is right—sit down again. You can be sociable, easily

enough if you have a mind to. Well? I am waiting. Have
you nothing to say?”

“Miss Hawkins, I voted for that bill because when I came
to examine into it—”

“Ah yes. When you came to examine into it. Well, I
only want you to examine into my bill. Mr. Trollop, you
would not sell your vote on that subsidy bill—which was
perfectly right—but you accepted of some of the stock, with
the understanding that it was to stand in your brother-in-law's
name.”

“There is no pr—I mean, this is utterly groundless, Miss
Hawkins.” But the gentleman seemed somewhat uneasy,
nevertheless.

“Well, not entirely so, perhaps. I and a person whom we
will call Miss Blank (never mind the real name,) were in a
closet at your elbow all the while.”

Mr. Trollop wineed—then he said with dignity:

“Miss Hawkins is it possible that you were capable of such
a thing as that?”

“It was bad; I confess that. It was bad. Almost as bad
as selling one's vote for—but I forget; you did not sell your
vote—you only accepted a little trifle, a small token of
esteem, for your brother-in-law. Oh, let us come out and be
frank with each other. I know you, Mr. Trollop. I have
met you on business three or four times; true, I never offered
to corrupt your principles—never hinted such a thing; but
always when I had finished sounding you, I manipulated you
through an agent. Let us be frank. Wear this comely disguise
of virtue before the public—it will count there; but
here it is out of place. My dear sir, by and by there is going
to be an investigation into that National Internal Improvement
Directors' Relief Measure of a few years ago, and you
know very well that you will be a crippled man, as likely as
not, when it is completed.”

“It cannot be shown that a man is a knave merely for owning
that stock. I am not distressed about the National Improvement
Relief Measure.”

“Oh indeed I am not trying to distress you. I only wished
to make good my assertion that I knew you. Several of you
gentlemen bought of that stock (without paying a penny
down) received dividends from it, (think of the happy idea
of receiving dividends, and very large ones, too, from stock
one hasn't paid for!) and all the while your names never appeared
in the transaction; if ever you took the stock at all,
you took it in other people's names. Now you see, you had
to know one of two things; namely, you either knew that
the idea of all this preposterous generosity was to bribe you
into future legislative friendship, or you didn't know it.
That is to say, you had to be either a knave or a—well, a
fool—there was no middle ground. You are not a fool, Mr.
Trollop.”

“Miss Hawkins you flatter me. But seriously, you do not
forget that some of the best and purest men in Congress took
that stock in that way?”

“Did Senator Blank?”

“Well, no—I believe not.”

“Of course you believe not. Do you suppose he was ever
approached, on the subject?”

“Perhaps not.”

“If you had approached him, for instance, fortified with
the fact that some of the best men in Congress, and the
purest, etc., etc., what would have been the result?”

“Well, what would have been the result?”

“He would have shown you the door! For Mr. Blank is
neither a knave nor a fool. There are other men in the
Senate and the House whom no one would have been hardy
enough to approach with that Relief Stock in that peculiarly
generous way, but they are not of the class that you regard
as the best and purest. No, I say I know you Mr. Trollop.
That is to say, one may suggest a thing to Mr. Trollop which
it would not do to suggest to Mr. Blank. Mr. Trollop, you are
pledged to support the Indigent Congressmen's Retroactive
Appropriation which is to come up, either in this or the next
session. You do not deny that, even in public. The man

that will vote for that bill will break the eighth commandment
in any other way, sir!”

“But he will not vote for your corrupt measure, nevertheless,
madam!” exclaimed Mr. Trollop, rising from his seat
in a passion.

“Ah, but he will. Sit down again, and let me explain why.
Oh, come, don't behave so. It is very unpleasant. Now be
good, and you shall have the missing page of your great
speech. Here it is!”—and she displayed a sheet of manuscript.

Mr. Trollop turned immediately back from the threshold.
It might have been gladness that flashed into his face; it
might have been something else; but at any rate there
was much astonishment mixed with it.

“Good! Where did you get it? Give it me!”

“Now there is no hurry. Sit down; sit down and let us
talk and be friendly.”

The gentleman wavered. Then he said:

“No, this is only a subterfuge. I will go. It is not the
missing page.”

Laura tore off a couple of lines from the bottom of the
sheet.

“Now,” she said, “you will know whether this is the
handwriting or not. You know it is the handwriting. Now
if you will listen, you will know that this must be the
list of statistics which was to be the `nub' of your great
effort, and the accompanying blast the beginning of the
burst of eloquence which was continued on the next page—
and you will recognize that there was where you broke
down.”

She read the page. Mr. Trollop said:

“This is perfectly astounding. Still, what is all this to
me? It is nothing. It does not concern me. The speech
is made, and there an end. I did break down for a moment,
and in a rather uncomfortable place, since I had led up to
those statistics with some grandeur; the hiatus was pleasanter
to the House and the galleries than it was to me. But it
is no matter now. A week has passed; the jests about it
ceased three or four days ago. The whole thing is a matter
of indifference to me, Miss Hawkins.”

“But you apologized, and promised the statistics for next
day. Why didn't you keep your promise?”

“The matter was not of sufficient consequence. The time
was gone by to produce an effect with them.”

“But I hear that other friends of the Soldiers' Pension
Bill desire them very much. I think you ought to let them
have them.”

“Miss Hawkins, this silly blunder of my copyist evidently
has more interest for you than it has for me. I will send my
private secretary to you and let him discuss the subject with
you at length.”

“Did he copy your speech for you?”

“Of course he did. Why all these questions? Tell me—
how did you get hold of that page of manuscript? That is
the only thing that stirs a passing interest in my mind.”

“I'm coming to that.” Then she said, much as if she were
talking to herself: “It does seem like taking a deal of
unnecessary pains, for a body to hire another body to construct
a great speech for him and then go and get still another
body to copy it before it can be read in the House.”

“Miss Hawkins, what do you mean by such talk as that?”

“Why I am sure I mean no harm—no harm to anybody
in the world. I am certain that I overheard the Hon. Mr.
Buckstone either promise to write your great speech for you
or else get some other competent person to do it.”

“This is perfectly absurd, madam, perfectly absurd!” and
Mr. Trollop affected a laugh of derision.

“Why, the thing has occurred before now. I mean that I
have heard that Congressmen have sometimes hired literary
grubs to build speeches for them. Now didn't I overhear a
conversation like that I spoke of?”

“Pshaw! Why of course you may have overheard some
such jesting nonsense. But would one be in earnest about so
farcical a thing?”

“Well if it was only a joke, why did you make a serious
matter of it? Why did you get the speech written for you,
and then read it in the House without ever having it copied?”

Mr. Trollop did not laugh, this time; he seemed seriously
perplexed. He said:

“Come, play out your jest, Miss Hawkins. I can't understand
what you are contriving—but it seems to entertain you
—so please go on.”

“I will, I assure you; but I hope to make the matter entertaining
to you, too. Your private secretary never copied
your speech.”

“Indeed? Really you seem to know my affairs better than
I do myself.”

“I believe I do. You can't name your own amanuensis,
Mr. Trollop.”

“That is sad, indeed. Perhaps Miss Hawkins can?”

“Yes, I can. I wrote your speech myself, and you read
it from my manuscript. There, now!”

Mr. Trollop did not spring to his feet and smite his brow
with his hand while a cold sweat broke out all over him and
the color forsook his face—no, he only said, “Good God!”
and looked greatly astonished.

Laura handed him her commonplace-book and called his
attention to the fact that the handwriting there and the hand-writing
of this speech were the same. He was shortly convinced.
He laid the book aside and said, composedly:

“Well, the wonderful tragedy is done, and it transpires
that I am indebted to you for my late eloquence. What of
it? What was all this for, and what does it amount to, after
all? What do you propose to do about it?”

“Oh nothing. It is only a bit of pleasantry. When
I overheard that conversation I took an early opportunity
to ask Mr. Buckstone if he knew of anybody who might
want a speech written—I had a friend, and so forth and
so on. I was the friend, myself; I thought I might do
you a good turn then and depend on you to do me one
by and by. I never let Mr. Buckstone have the speech
till the last moment, and when you hurried off to the House
with it, you did not know there was a missing page, of course,
but I did.”

“And now perhaps you think that if I refuse to support
your bill, you will make a grand exposure?”

“Well I had not thought of that. I only kept back the
page for the mere fun of the thing; but since you mention it,
I don't know but I might do something if I were angry.”

“My dear Miss Hawkins, if you were to give out that you
composed my speech, you know very well that people would
say it was only your raillery, your fondness for putting a victim
in the pillory and amusing the public at his expense. It
is too flimsy, Miss Hawkins, for a person of your fine inventive
talent—contrive an abler device than that. Come!”

“It is easily done, Mr. Trollop. I will hire a man, and pin
this page on his breast, and label it, `The Missing Fragment
of the Hon. Mr. Trollop's Great Speech—which speech was
written and composed by Miss Laura Hawkins under a secret

understanding for one hundred dollars—and the money has
not been paid.' And I will pin round about it notes in my
handwriting, which I will procure from prominent friends of
mine for the occasion; also your printed speech in the Globe,
showing the connection between its bracketed hiatus and my
Fragment; and I give you my word of honor that I will
stand that human bulletin board in the rotunda of the capitol
and make him stay there a week! You see you are premature,
Mr. Trollop, the wonderful tragedy is not done yet, by
any means. Come, now, doesn't it improve?”

Mr Trollop opened his eyes rather widely at this novel
aspect of the case. He got up and walked the floor and gave
himself a moment for reflection. Then he stopped and studied
Laura's face a while, and ended by saying:

“Well, I am obliged to believe you would be reckless
enough to do that.”

“Then don't put me to the test, Mr. Trollop. But let's
drop the matter. I have had my joke and you've borne the
infliction becomingly enough. It spoils a jest to harp on it
after one has had one's laugh. I would much rather talk
about my bill.”

“So would I, now, my clandestine amanuensis. Compared
with some other subjects, even your bill is a pleasant topic to
discuss.”

“Very good indeed! I thought I could persuade you.
Now I am sure you will be generous to the poor negro and
vote for that bill.”

“Yes, I feel more tenderly toward the oppressed colored
man than I did. Shall we bury the hatchet and be good
friends and respect each other's little secrets, on condition that
I vote Aye on the measure?”

“With all my heart, Mr. Trollop. I give you my word of
that.”

“It is a bargain. But isn't there something else you could
give me, too?”

Laura looked at him inquiringly a moment, and then she
comprehended.

“Oh, yes! You may have it now. I haven't any more
use for it.” She picked up the page of manuscript, but she
reconsidered her intention of handing it to him, and said,
“But never mind; I will keep it close; no one shall see it;
you shall have it as soon as your vote is recorded.”

Mr. Trollop looked disappointed. But presently made
his adieux, and had got as far as the hall, when something
occurred to Laura. She said to herself, “I don't simply
want his vote, under compulsion—he might vote aye, but
work against the bill in secret, for revenge; that man is
unscrupulous enough to do anything. I must have his hearty
co-operation as well as his vote. There is only one way to
get that.”

She called him back, and said;

“I value your vote, Mr. Trollop, but I value your influence
more. You are able to help a measure along in many ways,
if you choose.—I want to ask you to work for the bill as
well as vote for it.”

“It takes so much of one's time, Miss Hawkins—and time
is money, you know.”

“Yes, I know it is—especially in Congress. Now there is
no use in you and I dealing in pretenses and going at matters
in round-about ways. We know each other—disguises
are nonsense. Let us be plain. I will make it an object to
you to work for the bill.”

“Don't make it unnecessarily plain, please. There are
little proprieties that are best preserved. What do you propose?”

“Well, this.” She mentioned the names of several prominent
Congressmen. “Now,” said she, “these gentlemen
are to vote and work for the bill, simply out of love for the
negro—and out of pure generosity I have put in a relative of
each as a member of the University incorporation. They
will handle a million or so of money, officially, but will
receive no salaries.—A larger number of statesmen are to
vote and work for the bill—also out of love for the negro—
gentlemen of but moderate influence, these—and out of pure
generosity I am to see that relatives of theirs have positions
in the University, with salaries, and good ones, too. You
will vote and work for the bill, from mere affection for the
negro, and I desire to testify my gratitude becomingly.
Make free choice. Have you any friend whom you would
like to present with a salaried or unsalaried position in our
institution?”

“Well, I have a brother-in-law—”

“That same old brother-in-law, you good unselfish provider!
I have heard of him often, through my agents. How
regularly he does `turn up,' to be sure. He could deal with
those millions virtuously, and withal with ability, too—but
of course you would rather he had a salaried position?”

“Oh, no,” said the gentleman, facetiously, “we are very

humble, very humble in our desires; we want no money;
we labor solely for our country and require no reward
but the luxury of an applauding conscience. Make him one
of those poor hard working unsalaried corporators and let
him do every body good with those millions—and go hungry
himself! I will try to exert a little influence in favor of the
bill.”

Arrived at home, Mr. Trollop sat down and thought it all
over—something after this fashion: it is about the shape it
might have taken if he had spoken it aloud.

“My reputation is getting a little damaged, and I meant
to clear it up brilliantly with an exposure of this bill at the
supreme moment, and ride back into Congress on the éclat
of it; and if I had that bit of manuscript, I would do it yet.
It would be more money in my pocket, in the end, than my
brother-in-law will get out of that incorporatorship, fat as it
is. But that sheet of paper is out of my reach—she will

never let that get out of her hands. And what a mountain
it is! It blocks up my road, completely. She was going to
hand it to me, once. Why didn't she! Must be a deep
woman. Deep devil! That is what she is; a beautiful
devil—and perfectly fearless, too. The idea of her
pinning that paper on a man and standing him up in the
rotunda looks absurd at a first glance. But she would do it!
She is capable of doing anything. I went there hoping she
would try to bribe me—good solid capital that would be
in the exposure. Well, my prayer was answered; she did
try to bribe me; and I made the best of a bad bargain
and let her. I am check-mated. I must contrive something
fresh to get back to Congress on. Very well; a bird in the
hand is worth two in the bush; I will work for the bill—
the incorporatorship will be a very good thing.”

As soon as Mr. Trollop had taken his leave, Laura ran to
Senator Dilworthy and began to speak, but he interrupted
her and said distressfully, without even turning from his
writing to look at her:

“Only half an hour! You gave it up early, child. However,
it was best, it was best—I'm sure it was best—and
safest.”

“Give it up! I!”

The Senator sprang up, all aglow:

“My child, you can't mean that you—”

“I've made him promise on honor to think about a compromise
to-night and come and tell me his decision in the
morning.”

“Good! There's hope yet that—”

“Nonsense, uncle. I've made him engage to let the Tennessee
Land bill utterly alone!”

“Impossible! You—”

“I've made him promise to vote with us!”

“Incredible! Abso—”

“I've made him swear that he'll work for us!”

“PRE---POSTEROUS!—Utterly pre—break a window,
child, before I suffocate!”

“No matter, it's true anyway. Now we can march into
Congress with drums beating and colors flying!”

“Well—well—well. I'm sadly bewildered, sadly bewildered.
I can't understand it at all—the most extraordinary
woman that ever—it's a great day, it's a great day. There—
there—let me put my hand in benediction on this precious
head. Ah, my child, the poor negro will bless—”

“Oh bother the poor negro, uncle! Put it in your speech.
Good-night, good-bye—we'll marshal our forces and march
with the dawn!”

Laura reflected a while, when she was alone, and then fell
to laughing, peacefully.

“Everybody works for me,”—so ran her thought. “It
was a good idea to make Buckstone lead Mr. Trollop on to
get a great speech written for him; and it was a happy part
of the same idea for me to copy the speech after Mr. Buckstone
had written it, and then keep back a page. Mr. B. was
very complimentary to me when Trollop's break-down in the
House showed him the object of my mysterious scheme; I
think he will say still finer things when I tell him the
triumph the sequel to it has gained for us.

“But what a coward the man was, to believe I would have
exposed that page in the rotunda, and so exposed myself.
However, I don't know—I don't know. I will think a moment.
Suppose he voted no; suppose the bill failed; that
is to suppose this stupendous game lost forever, that I have
played so desperately for; suppose people came around pitying
me—odious! And he could have saved me by his single
voice. Yes, I would have exposed him! What would I care for
the talk that that would have made about me when I was
gone to Europe with Selby and all the world was busy with
my history and my dishonor? It would be almost happiness
to spite somebody at such a time.'