83. CHAPTER LXXXIII.
MRS. DELILAH JONES.
Mr. Newt's political friends in New York were naturally
anxious when he went to Washington. They had constant
communication with the Honorable Mr. Ele in regard to his
colleague; for although they were entirely sure of Mr. Ele,
they could not quite confide in Mr. Newt, nor help feeling
that, in some eccentric moment, even his interest might fail to
control him.
“The truth is, I begin to be sick of it,” said General Belch
to the calm William Condor.
That placid gentleman replied that he saw no reason for apprehension.
“But he may let things out, you know,” said Belch.
“Yes, but is not our word as good as his,” was the assuring
reply.
“Perhaps, perhaps,” said General Belch, dolefully.
But Belch and Condor were forgotten by the representative
they had sent to Congress when he once snuffed the air of
Washington. There was something grateful to Abel Newt
in the wide sphere and complicated relations of the political
capital, of which the atmosphere was one of intrigue, and
which was built over the mines and countermines of selfishness.
He hoodwinked all Belch's spies, so that the Honorable Mr.
Ele could never ascertain any thing about his colleague, until
once when he discovered that the report upon the Grant was
to be brought in within a day or two by the Committee, and
that it would be recommended, upon which he hastened to
Abel's lodging. He found him smoking as usual, with a decanter
at hand. It was past midnight, and the room was in
the disorder of a bachelor's sanctum.
Mr. Ele seated himself carelessly, so carelessly that Abel
saw at once that he had come for some very particular purpose.
He offered his friend a tumbler and a cigar, and they
talked nimbly of a thousand things. Who had come, who
had gone, and how superb Mrs. Delilah Jones was, who had
suddenly appeared upon the scene, invested with mystery, and
bringing a note to each of the colleagues from General Belch.
“Mrs. Delilah Jones,” said that gentleman, in a private note
to Ele, “is our old friend, Kitty Dunham. She appears in
Washington as the widow of a captain in the navy, who died
a few years since upon the Brazil station. She can be of the
greatest service to us; and you must have no secrets from
each other about our dear friend, who shall be nameless.”
To Abel Newt, General Belch wrote: “My dear Newt, the
lady to whom I have given a letter to you is daughter of an
old friend of my family. She married Captain Jones of the
navy, whom she lost some years since upon the Brazil station.
She has seen the world; has money; and comes to Washington
to taste life, to enjoy herself—to doff the sables, perhaps,
who knows? Be kind to her, and take care of your heart.
Don't forget the Grant in the arms of Delilah! Yours, Belch.”
Abel Newt, when he received this letter, looked over his
books of reports and statistics.
“Captain Jones—Brazil station,” he said, skeptically, to
himself. But he found no such name or event in the obituaries;
and he was only the more amused by his friend Belch's
futile efforts at circumvention and control.
“My dear Belch,” he replied, after he had made his investigations,
“I have your private note, but I have not yet encountered
the superb Delilah; nor have I forgotten what you said
to me about working 'em through their wives, and sisters, etc.
I shall not begin to forget it now, and I hope to make the Delilah
useful in the campaign; for there are goslings here, more
than you would believe. Thank you for such an ally. You,
at least, were not born to fail. Yours, A. Newt.”
“Goslings, are there? I believe you,” said Belch to himself,
inwardly chuckling as he read and folded Abel's letter.
“Ally, hey? Well, that
is good,” he continued, the chuckle
rising into a laugh. “Well, well, I thought Abel Newt was
smart; but he doesn't even suspect, and I have played a deeper
game than was needed.”
“I guess that will fix him,” said Abel, as he looked over his
letter, laughed, folded it, and sent it off.
Mr. Ele by many a devious path at length approached the
object of his visit, and hoped that Mr. Newt would flesh his
maiden sword in the coming fray. Abel said, without removing
his cigar, “I think I shall speak.”
He said no more. Mr. Ele shook his foot with inward triumph.
“The Widow Jones will do a smashing business this winter,
I suppose,” he said, at length.
“Likely,” replied Newt.
“Know her well?”
“Pretty well.”
Mr. Ele retired, for he had learned all that his friend meant
he should know.
“Do I know Delilah?” laughed Abel Newt to himself, as he
said “Good-night, Ele.”
Yes he did. He had followed up his note to General Belch
by calling upon the superb Mrs. Delilah Jones. But neither
the skillful wig, nor the freshened cheeks, nor the general repairs
which her personal appearance had undergone, could
hide from Abel the face of Kitty Dunham, whom he had sometimes
met in other days when suppers were eaten in Grand
Street and wagons were driven to Cato's. He betrayed nothing,
however; and she wrote to General Belch that she had
disguised herself so that he did not recall her in the least.
Abel was intensely amused by the espionage of the Honorable
Mr. Ele and the superb Jones. He told his colleague
how greatly he had been impressed by the widow—that she
was really a fascinating woman; and, by Jove! though she
was a widow, and no longer twenty, still there were a good
many worse things a man might do than fall in love with her.
'Pon honor, he did not feel altogether sure of himself, though
he thought he was hardened if any body was.
Mr. Ele smiled, and said, in a serious way, that she was a
splendid woman, and if Abel persisted he must look out for a
rival.
“For I thought it best to lead him on,” he wrote to his
friend Belch.
As for the lady herself, Abel was so dexterous that she really
began to believe that she might do rather more for herself
than her employers. He brought to bear upon her the
whole force of the fascination which had once been so irresistible;
and, like a blowpipe, it melted out the whole conspiracy
against him without her knowing that she had betrayed it.
The point of her instructions from Belch was that she was to
persuade him to be constant to the Grant at any price.
“To-morrow, then, Mr. Newt,” she said to him, as they
stood together in the crush of a levee at the White House—
“to-morrow our bill is to be reported, and favorably.”
Mrs. Delilah Jones was a pretty woman, and shrewd. She
had large eyes, languishing at will—at will, also, bright and
piercing. Her face was a smiling, mobile face; the features
rather coarse, the expression almost vulgar, but the vulgarity
well concealed. She was dressed in the extreme of the mode,
and drew Mr. Newt's arm very close to her as she spoke.
She observed that Mr. Newt was more than usually disposed
to chat. The honorable representative had dined.
“Our bill, Lady Delilah? Thank you for that,” said Abel,
in a low voice, and almost pressing the hand that lay upon his
close-held arm.
The reply was a slow turn of the head, and a half languishment
in the eyes as they sought his with the air of saying,
“Would you deceive a woman who trusts in you utterly?”
They moved out of the throng a little, and stood by the
window.
“I wish I dared to ask you one thing as a pure favor,” said
[ILLUSTRATION]
The Superb Delilah.
[Description: 538EAF. Page 471. In-line Illustration. Image of a man and woman standing in front of a window. The man has one arm around the woman's waist and is holding her hand with his other hand. They are looking into each other's eyes.]
the superb Mrs. Delilah Jones, and this time the eyes were
firm and bright.
“I hoped, by this time, that you dared every thing,” replied
Abel, with a vague reproach in his tone.
Mrs. Jones looked at him for a moment with a look of honest
inquiry in her eyes. His own did not falter. Their expression
combined confidence and respect.
“May I then ask,” she said, earnestly, and raising her other
hand as if to lay it imploringly upon his shoulder, but somehow
it fell into his hand, which was raised simultaneously, and
which did not let it go—
“For my sake, will you speak in favor of it?” she asked,
casting her eyes down.
“For your sake, Delilah,” he said, in a musical whisper, and
under the rouge her cheeks tingled—“for your sake I will
make a speech—my maiden speech.”
There was more conversation between them. The Honorable
Mr. Ele stood guard, so to speak, and by incessant chatter
warded off the company from pressing upon them unawares.
The guests smiled as they looked on; and after the
levee the newspapers circulated rumors (it was before the
days of “Personal”) that were read with profound interest
throughout the country, that the young and talented representative
from the commercial emporium had not forfeited his
reputation as a squire of dames, and gossip already declared
that the charming and superb Mrs. D-li-h J-nes would ere
long exchange that honored name for one not less esteemed.
When Abel returned from the levee he threw himself into
his chair, and said, aloud,
“Isn't a man lucky who is well paid for doing just what he
meant to do?”
For Abel Newt intended to get all he could from the Grant,
and to enjoy himself as fully as possible while getting it; but
he had his own work to do, and to that his power was devoted.
To make a telling speech upon the winning side was
one of his plans, and accordingly he made it.
When the bill was reported as it had been drafted by his
friends in New York, it had been arranged that Mr. Newt
should catch the speaker's eye. His figure and face attracted
attention, and his career in Washington had already made him
somewhat known. During the time he had been there his
constant employment had been a study of the House and of
its individual members, as well as of the general character and
influence of the speeches. His shrewdness showed him the
shallows, the currents, and the reefs. Day after day he saw a
great many promising plans, like full-sailed ships, ground upon
the flats of dullness, strike rocks of prejudice, or whirl in the
currents of crudity, until they broke up and went down out
of sight.
He rose, and his first words arrested attention. He treated
the House with consummate art, as he might have treated a
woman whom he wished to persuade. The House was favorably
inclined before. It was resolved when he sat down.
For he had shown so clearly that it was one of the cases in
which patriotism and generosity—the finer feelings and only a
moderate expense—were all one, that the majority, who were
determined to pass the Grant in any case, were charmed to
have the action so imposingly stated; and the minority, who
knew that it was useless to oppose it, enjoyed the rhetoric of
the speech, and, as it was brief, and did not encroach upon
dinner-time, smiled approval, and joined in the congratulation
to Mr. Newt upon his very eloquent and admirable oration.
In the midst of the congratulations Abel raised his eyes to
Mrs. Delilah Jones, who sat conspicuous in the gallery.
