The last evening they were to spend in Fallkill, they were at the
Montagues, and Philip hoped that he would find Ruth in a different mood.
But she was never more gay, and there was a spice of mischief in her eye
and in her laugh. “Confound it,” said Philip to himself, “she’s in a
perfect twitter.”
He would have liked to quarrel with her, and fling himself out of the
house in tragedy style, going perhaps so far as to blindly wander off
miles into the country and bathe his throbbing brow in the chilling rain
of the stars, as people do in novels; but he had no opportunity. For
Ruth was as serenely unconscious of mischief as women can be at times,
and fascinated him more than ever with her little demurenesses and half-
confidences. She even said “Thee” to him once in reproach for a cutting
speech he began. And the sweet little word made his heart beat like a
trip-hammer, for never in all her life had she said “thee” to him before.
Was she fascinated with Harry’s careless ‘bon homie’ and gay assurance?
Both chatted away in high spirits, and made the evening whirl along in
the most mirthful manner. Ruth sang for Harry, and that young gentleman
turned the leaves for her at the piano, and put in a bass note now and
then where he thought it would tell.
Yes, it was a merry evening, and Philip was heartily glad when it was
over, and the long leave-taking with the family was through with.
“Farewell Philip. Good night Mr. Brierly,” Ruth’s clear voice sounded
after them as they went down the walk.
And she spoke Harry’s name last, thought Philip.
CHAPTER XXIII.
“O see ye not yon narrow road
So thick beset wi’ thorns and briers?
That is the Path of Righteousness,
Though after it but few inquires.
“And see ye not yon braid, braid road,
That lies across the lily leven?
That is the Path of Wickedness,
Though some call it the road to Heaven.”
Thomas the Rhymer.
Phillip and Harry reached New York in very different states of mind.
Harry was buoyant. He found a letter from Col. Sellers urging him to go
to Washington and confer with Senator Dilworthy. The petition was in his
hands.
It had been signed by everybody of any importance in Missouri, and would
be presented immediately.
“I should go on myself,” wrote the Colonel, “but I am engaged in the
invention of a process for lighting such a city as St. Louis by means of
water; just attach my machine to the water-pipes anywhere and the
decomposition of the fluid begins, and you will have floods of light for
the mere cost of the machine. I’ve nearly got the lighting part, but I
want to attach to it a heating, cooking, washing and ironing apparatus.
It’s going to be the great thing, but we’d better keep this appropriation
going while I am perfecting it.”
Harry took letters to several congressmen from his uncle and from Mr.
Duff Brown, each of whom had an extensive acquaintance in both houses
where they were well known as men engaged in large private operations for
the public good and men, besides, who, in the slang of the day,
understood the virtues of “addition, division and silence.”
Senator Dilworthy introduced the petition into the Senate with the remark
that he knew, personally, the signers of it, that they were men
interested; it was true, in the improvement of the country, but he
believed without any selfish motive, and that so far as he knew the
signers were loyal. It pleased him to see upon the roll the names of
many colored citizens, and it must rejoice every friend of humanity to
know that this lately emancipated race were intelligently taking part in
the development of the resources of their native land. He moved the
reference of the petition to the proper committee.
Senator Dilworthy introduced his young friend to influential members,
as a person who was very well informed about the Salt Lick Extension of
the Pacific, and was one of the Engineers who had made a careful survey
of Columbus River; and left him to exhibit his maps and plans and to show