The Fall of a Nation. Thomas Dixon
with a tangled mass of auburn blonde hair.
Vassar laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. Such a woman couldn’t be the leader of the brazen mob of clamoring females he had grown to hate. It was too preposterous for words. She was speaking now. He didn’t know what she was saying. No matter. It was her personality that held him in a spell. Her voice was the most startling contrast to Waldron’s – soft and clear as the round notes of a flute. Its volume was not great and yet the quality was penetrating. It found the ear of the farthest listener in the wide circle of the crowd and at the same time the depths of his inmost being.
There was no resisting her personal appeal.
Before she had spoken two sentences Vassar was ready to agree to any proposition she might make. She seemed so sweet and sane and reasonable. Her appeal was to both the head and the heart of her hearers.
The young statesman mopped his brow in a vague panic. If this was the leader who had marked him for defeat the situation was serious. If she and her kind should make a personal canvass of the voters of his district, he would have to rise early and go to bed late if he ever expected to see the Capitol at Washington again.
And yet it was not the fear of defeat that really disturbed him. It was the confusion into which her personality had thrown all his preconceived ideas. Great God! If this sort of woman had gotten into the movement where would it end? How could she be denied? He laughed again at his preconceived ideas of the leader of Amazons and the sweet reasonableness of this gentle, brilliant, exquisite girl on whose words the crowd hung breathless.
He was stunned. It was impossible for the moment to adjust his thinking to the situation. He was missing all her speech. For the life of him he couldn’t recall a sentence. He pulled himself up with a frown and listened.
“I am not sure, dear friends, that we can prevent war,” she was saying, “but I am sure that we will try. And I am absolutely sure that the clothing of women with the sovereign power of the ballot will introduce into the councils that decide peace or war a new element in human history. Man alone has failed to keep the peace. Surely if we help we can do no worse. I have an abiding faith that we can do better – ”
She paused and a look of enraptured emotion illumined her face as she slowly continued:
“If a city were besieged and soldiers were defending its strong places, and a breach had been made in the embattlements, the men within would close that breach with the first thing at hand. They would not spare even the priceless marble figure on which an artist had spent years of loving toil – unless the defending soldier were the artist who created the masterpiece! He could not hurl this treasure into the breach to be crushed into a shapeless mass. He would find another way or die in the effort.
“Man is woman’s masterpiece. For twenty-five years she broods and watches and works with loving care to fashion this immortal being. Give to her the decisive voice in war and she will find a better way to fill the breach. She will not hurl her masterpiece into this hell. Man has failed to find a better way. May not we who love most and suffer most at least have the chance to try?”
The sweet penetrating voice died softly away and she had taken her seat before the crowd realized that she had stopped.
A moment’s dead silence and then cheer after cheer swept the throng.
An excited man lifted high his hand and shouted:
“We’ll give you the chance. Yes – yes!”
Zonia’s grip tightened suddenly on John Vassar’s arm.
“You’ll let me introduce you, Uncy?”
Vassar laughed excitedly.
“Will I? Be quick, girl – before she gets away!”
CHAPTER VI
“Aren’t you glad you came?” Zonia asked eagerly.
“Hurry! Don’t let her get away with Waldron – ”
The girl darted from his side and pushed rapidly to the platform. The crowd had encircled Virginia and a hundred people were trying to grasp her hand at the same time. There was no help for it. He must wait. At least he was glad the jam made it equally impossible for Waldron to reach her. He saw him wave his hand to her over their heads, bow and leave the platform for his waiting car.
Vassar was glad to be rid of his presence. That frozen smile poisoned the air. He could breathe deeply now.
It was fully fifteen minutes before he caught the signal Zonia waved from the steps.
His niece was radiant with joy as she proudly introduced them.
“Uncle John, this is my heroine, Miss Holland, and you’ve got to shake hands and be good friends now – ”
“I trust we shall!” Vassar cried laughingly.
Virginia smiled seriously.
“It depends on you, Mr. Congressman,” she responded quietly. “You know I’ve tried to be friendly for some time, but you have been elusive. I had to threaten you with death even to bring about an introduction – ”
He lifted his hand in protest.
“Don’t – please! It’s unkind now that I know you. I’ve had such a silly idea of your personality. I repent in sackcloth and ashes – ”
“Really?”
“Honestly,” he went on eagerly. “You know I had an idea that all suffragettes were ugly, disappointed, soured women whose lives had been beggared by the faults of sinful men – ”
“Or Amazons – Uncy!” Zonia broke in with a laugh. “He called you an Amazon, Miss Holland!”
Virginia blushed and broke into a musical laugh.
John Vassar shook his head menacingly at his niece.
“That’ll do for you now, Miss!”
“Did you call me an Amazon?” Virginia asked still smiling.
“Before I saw you, yes – ”
“And now?”
“Now, I’ve a new grudge against Waldron for using first an expression on which I could improve – ”
“What’s that?” she asked, puzzled.
“He called you ‘our Joan of Arc’ – ”
“And you could improve on that?”
“Yes – you’re Joan of Arc without the cold touch of sainthood. You’re warm and real and human and still the leader – ”
She lifted a pair of serious eyes quickly to his and saw that he was in dead earnest. There was no fencing or banter. He meant it. A little smile of triumph played about the corners of her mouth.
She held his gaze in silence and then spoke slowly.
“We’re going to be friends?”
“If you’ll let me – ”
Her eyes still held his steadily.
“There are conditions, of course – ”
“All right.”
“You wish to know them?”
“At once – ”
“My! My! You can come to the point – can’t you?” She laughed.
“My political life may depend on it, you know?” he replied lightly.
“Why not walk home with me – ”
“With pleasure!” he broke in.
“And we’ll have a chat in the library. I’m free to confess, Mr. Congressman, that we would like very much to come to an understanding with you.”
“And I’m going to confess, Miss Holland, that I’m very much ashamed of myself that I haven’t made an effort to understand you.”
“Well, you know what the old preacher down South always shouted in the revivals?”
“No