i

john rawn stood looking at the unceasing throng which surged confusedly through the corridors of the gilded hotel. warmth, music, a babel of voices, were all about. there approached a little group of laughing men coming from the carriage entrance, bound, no doubt, to a banquet hall somewhere under the capacious roof. one voice rose above the the others as the group advanced. there appeared, rapidly talking and gesticulating as he came, a ruddy-faced, stocky figure, with head close-cropped, jaw undershot, small eyes, fighting terrier make-up.

"i tell you, gentlemen, i'll compromise not in the least on this matter! it makes no difference what they do with the ticket or with me. there's only one way about these matters, and that's the right way! i care nothing whether this man be a rich man or a poor man. the only question is, whether he is right. if he is not right, he will never—i say to you, gentlemen—" this with close-shut jaw and fist hard smitten into palm—"i say to you, it makes no difference who he is or what he is, he'll never win through; and in the event you suffer from us—"

he passed on, gesticulating, talking. men commented audibly, for there was no mistaking a man idealized by some, dreaded by others, scorned by none, anathematized by not a few. he was to address that night a meeting of independent politicians, so-called, here in the very house of individualistic power, and many old-line members of his party had their doubts, the fear of a new party being ever present in the politician's mind—the same fear professional politicians, whig, democrat, what-not, had of the new party formed before the civil war at the command of a people then claiming self-government as their ancient right—as now they begin again to do, facing our third war of independence.

"going strong, isn't he?" commented one sardonically, within rawn's hearing.

"that's all right, my friend," was the smiling answer of yet another. "strong enough to make a lot of you hunt your holes yet. there's quite a few people in this little old country outside this island—and he'll—"

"nonsense! no chance, not the least chance in the world!"

"you underestimate this new movement," began the other.

"new movement!—you're 'progressive,' eh? got that bee? a lot of good it'll do you. it will be simply a new line-up following our old and time-tried political methods—it all comes to that, take my word. the people aren't in politics. a lot of professionals do our governing for us."

"all the same, there goes the people's candidate!"

"take him and welcome," was the answer. "take your candidate. we'll eat him up—if he runs."

they also passed on down the hall, gesticulating, their voices swallowed up with others, arising confusedly. this and that couple or group passed by, also talking, among them many persons obviously of notoriety, importance or distinction, though unknown to their observer. rawn stood and watched them all. the scene was to his liking. the stir, the confusion, appealed to him. the flowering of the great city's night life was here, such as that is. it was the focus of our country's civilization, such as that is. men worth millions passed, shoulder to shoulder, a wondrous procession, such as that is.

ii

and here and there, always moving and mingling with those men whose reception or whose raiment announced them as persons of importance, moved women, beautiful women, floating by, brightly, radiantly, rustlingly—women blazing with jewels, women with bright eyes, women whose apparel bespoke them as accepted integers of the city's vast human sum.

rawn stood studying the procession for a long time, eying group after group carefully. a conclusion was forming in his mind. he was learning that when a man has achieved power, success, wealth, notoriety even, he turns with his next thought to some woman; and finds some woman waiting.

not, as he reflected, a woman grown old and gray. not a woman with finger-tips blackened and roughened, of bowed figure and ill-fitting garb, of awkward and unaccustomed air—not to that sort of woman who would be noticed here for her lack of fitness in this place. no, rather, as he noticed, men of influence or position or power turned to such women as these about him now—of distinct personality, of birth and breeding, or at least of beauty; women shimmering in silks, blazing in gems, women who looked up laughing as they passed, women young and beautiful, whose voices were soft, around whom floated as they walked some subtle fascination.

rawn pondered. he saw passing a few men whom he knew, all with women whom he did not know. in each case his new-formed rule seemed to hold good; the exception being noted only in the bored and weary faces of men accompanied by women perhaps rustling and blazing in silks and diamonds, but not owning youth and fascination.

john rawn found that power and beauty go hand in hand; that money and beauty also go hand in hand—which is to say the same thing. he began to ponder upon youth, beauty and love as appurtenances of wealth, success and power.

"that's the game!" he said half to himself. "why, look at those chaps. they look pretty much alike, act pretty much alike, too. when a man has money to burn, there is only one way—and there it is!"

iii

and then it occurred to john rawn with sudden and unpleasing force that, although he was among this throng, he was not of it. himself a man of power, success, yes, even of wealth, he lacked in certain betokening appurtenances thereto. a not unusual wave of self-pity crept slowly over him. why should he, a man of his attainments, lack in any degree what others had?

he stood pondering, not wholly happy, until presently he felt, rather than saw, a glance bent upon him by a man who passed, a stately and well-garbed young woman upon his arm. he was a man now in faultless evening dress, yet easily to be recognized—none less, indeed, than the dyspeptic director who so summarily had been dismissed by john rawn himself not three hours ago. his dark face became even darker as he saw the victor of that controversy standing here alone. he smiled sardonically. to rawn it seemed that he smiled because he saw the solitary attitude of a man as good as himself, as fit as himself for all the insignia of power, yet publicly self-confessed as lacking all such insignia. he started, flushed, frowned. he had shown these men, these influential magnates in new york, that he could be their master upon occasion—he had mastered this man passing yonder. yet now he stood here alone, with no woman to advertise his power to the world; and men laughed at him! no woman wore his silks, displayed his jewels. he was john rawn, born to the purple; yet he might be taken here for a country merchant on his first trip from home....

he turned to the key-counter. the clerk, with infallible instinct—without his request—handed him the key to his room, not lacking acquaintance with men of mr. rawn's acquaintance, and knowing money when he saw it.... rawn passed down the hall, went up two flights in the elevator, turned into the left-hand corridor, and at length knocked deliberately at a door where a light showed.

iv

"come!" called a soft voice. he knocked again, a trifle hesitant, and looked down the corridor, each way. the voice repeated, "come!" he pushed open the door.

virginia delaware stood before her dressing-glass, her toilet for evening completed except perhaps for a touch or two about her coiffure. she turned now, and flushed as she saw her visitor.

"mr. rawn!" she exclaimed; "i thought it was the maid! i had just called her."

rawn turned and shut the door. "never mind her," he said. "i will be gone in a minute. i just wanted—"

"you must go!" she exclaimed. "you ought not to have come—it is not permitted—it is not right!"

"how stunning you look, miss delaware!" was all he said. he had never before seen her arrayed in keeping with these other lilies of the field. indeed, his life had given him small acquaintance with conventions, or those who practised them. he had no mental process of analysis as he gazed at her now, or he might have seen that after all the young woman's costume was no more than one of filmy blue, draped over a pure and lustrous white. he could not have named the fashion which drew it so daringly close at hip and hem as to reveal frankly all the lines of a figure which needed not to dread revelation for its own sake, whether or not for other sake. he could not have guessed what skill belonged to the hand that fashioned this raiment, could not have told its cost. to him the young woman was very beautiful; and he was too much confused to be capable of analysis. the corsage of the gown, cut square and daringly deep, displayed neck and shoulders white as those of any woman of any city. her figure gave lines had her costume not aided. she was beautiful, yes.

v

and there was something more, rawn could not tell what. there was some air of excitement, of exaltation, some sort of fever about her, upon her. in her eyes shone something rawn had never noticed there before. hastily he made such inventory as he might of unanalyzed charms. he arrived at his conclusion, which was, that virginia delaware would do!

"you could travel in fast company, my dear girl," said he approvingly.

"what do you mean?" she turned upon him.

"that you could go quite a considerable pace, my dear girl. you'll do. let me see your hands!" he demanded. and in spite of her he coolly took up a hand, examining the shapely finger-tips. he sighed. no needle had blackened or roughened them, the typewriter keys had not yet flattened them. he stepped back, looked at her from head to foot, appraising all her graces, valuing her height and roundness of figure. there was small light in his eye other than that of judicial approval. she bore out his theory.

"you surprise me!" was all he said.

"how do you mean, mr. rawn?—but you must go, you really must!"

there came a knock at the door. rawn's negative gesture was positive. after a moment's hesitation the girl stepped to the door and spoke to the maid. "you may return again in a little while, maid," she said. "i'm not quite ready now." in turn she stood with her back against the door, her own color rising.

"oh, don't be uneasy," said john rawn smiling. "this is quite considerable of a hotel, taking it as it is. there won't be any scandal over this."

"i don't think i understand you."

"i'm going in just five minutes. but i want to say something to you in the way of a business proposition, miss delaware."

"i'm sure i don't know what you mean." her head was high, her color still rising.

"nothing in the least wrong, my dear girl," said john rawn. "it's simply a matter of business, as i said. you're here as my assistant, of course. but did it ever occur to you that as you stand there now, and as i stand here, we might pass in that crowd below there and not be known by any one?"

vi

she still stood looking at him, her color high, undecided as to his meaning even now as he went on.

"it would be rather a pleasant experience, perhaps, for you—as it would be for me—just to mingle with that giddy throng—say, for dinner. would you like to be part of it? it's just a foolish thought that came to me."

she turned to him, her eyes bright, her face eager. "could we, mr. rawn?" she said. "i'm crazy over it!"

"i see," he commented dryly. "you were dressing to go down to dinner?"

"no, no, i couldn't afford to do that, of course. i couldn't go alone, and i had no company. i wasn't going down at all. i just dressed up—to—to—"

"just to look at yourself in the mirror, isn't that it, miss delaware?"

"yes, it's the truth!" she turned to him calmly at last, well in hand again. "i couldn't be one of them—couldn't be like those people down below, so i did the best i could up here—i dressed as much like them as i knew how. i—i—i imagined! i dreamed, mr. rawn. i've never known a real evening of that sort in all my life—but it's in my blood. i want to go, i want to dine, and drink, and dance—i'm mad about it, i know, but it's the truth! i want what i can't have. i want to be what i'm not. i don't know what's the reason. it's in the air—maybe it's in the day, in the country!"

vii

"yes, it's the country," said john rawn. "we're all going a swift pace, men and women both. i don't blame you. i understand you. now i know what you want."

"what do you mean?"

"you want just about what i want."

"but, mr. rawn—"

"it's the same thing—it's power that you want, just as i do. i feel it in the air when i come near you. you feel the same way when you come near me!"

she nodded rapidly, her eyes narrowing. "yes, it's true!" she said. "that's true."

"you want to have it within your ability to influence men, just as i do, don't you, miss delaware? that's what was in your soul when you stood before your mirror there when i came in, wasn't it, miss delaware? you want to win, to succeed, to triumph, don't you, miss delaware—you've got ambition? wasn't that your dream—isn't that what you were imagining, as you stood there and looked in your glass?"

"yes, yes, it's true, i know it!" she admitted panting. "i know it, my god! yes, i can't help it! but what chance have i?"

"all sorts of chances, my dear girl. i don't make mistakes. i told you this is a business proposition. now, then, tell me, why did you tog out this way?"

"i did it because i had to. i told you i couldn't help it. it was in my blood to-night!"

"any man waiting anywhere, miss delaware?"

"on my word, no! i wasn't even going downstairs. but i told you i was mad to be in that crowd, where the rich people are. i wanted to hear the music, i wanted to see them—i wanted to pretend for one night that i was a part of it all!"

"you wanted to win—you coveted power! is it not true?"

"yes!" she blazed fiercely. and indeed at that moment the room seemed full of some large influence, moving, throbbing all about them.

viii

"i wanted that," the girl admitted. "all the world does!"

"i suppose you wanted to see some strong man fall on his knees and beg of you?"

"yes."

"i am sorry, my dear, but i'll not do that. but i understand. so you searched out these glad rags and tried yourself out before the mirror there! very good! you'll do! believe me—or ask any man in all this city."

she nodded rapidly. "yes, you know it, now."

"now, you're no more mad than i am," said john rawn. "you're as cool-headed as i am, if i know women at all. we think alike. you're young. i'm young enough. where'd you get that gown?"

"i had it made—in an alley, in the city back home. it cost as much as i could afford. thirty dollars!" she flung out the words scornfully.

"it looks three hundred; and i've seen worse below to-night that probably cost three thousand. but it's not yet quite complete—your costume."

"it was the best i had. you ought not to taunt me. i stood here facing myself. i felt disappointed, bitter! yes, i'll admit that."

"you needn't be," said rawn calmly. he nodded to her bare and unadorned neck, her hair which lacked brilliants, her fingers left unjeweled. the girl caught his meaning without further speech, and it hurt her yet more.

"what could i do? why did you bring me here, mr. rawn? you've made me unhappy. i've seen it, and i can't be a part of it. it doesn't seem i can go back there to work and be just the same any more, after seeing the city here! i tell you, it's got in my blood, all at once."

"no," he said evenly, "not again just the same. we outgrow ourselves, and can't go back. i'm not the same man i once was." he half-unconsciously shifted to get a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

"but now, my business proposition is very simple. it holds good for one evening, miss delaware. i was just going to propose that we forget all this unhappiness, and do a little pretending for one night, say for one hour or so."

ix

he fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, and drew out something which suddenly flamed into dancing points and rays in the light that fell upon it. she stood motionless while he passed about her neck a tiny thread, delicate as if spun of moonlight. she held out her hand, and he slipped over it a gleaming ring of gems. she bent her head, and he placed a sparkling ornament in her hair. she had seen these jewels before. she turned to the glass now, her bosom heaving as she saw them gleam at her own neck, her own hands, in her own hair. she held out her hands to look at them now, and the gems flashed back challenge to her eyes, sparkling yet more brilliantly.

"it was nothing," said john rawn tersely. "that's all that lacked. you're good as the best now. i've seen no woman in this city that is your equal in beauty. you were born for this life. now do you understand what i mean? i say, you can carry it off!"

she turned to him, another woman, changing on the instant, something in her eyes he had never seen before. but in his own eyes there was at the time nothing save the original calm and purposefulness.

"as i was saying, then, since we can both carry it off, why not do so for an hour or so? i've read somewhere of masquerades. why not try it?"

she turned to him, flushed, radiant, but slightly frowning, puzzled, studying him. rawn felt the query of her look, felt also something stirring down in his nature which he grappled at once and was able to suppress. his voice was cool and low as it was before.

"it's a big crowd below, and we'll be lost in it. i've learned already that you can be discreet. we'll drop down in there, where no one knows us. we'll try ourselves out, and see whether we'll do, here where the test is hardest. you're ambitious? so am i. this is the heart of the world—the place of gratified ambitions. what do you say, miss delaware? i've been looking around down there, and as nearly as i can see, i'm the only man in this avenue worth a million dollars who at this precise moment of the day isn't talking to some good-looking woman!"

"you flatter me!" commented the girl. he did not endeavor any analysis.

"not in the least! i simply talk sense and business to you. i covet what you covet, love what you love, want what you want. things which are equal to the same thing ought to be equal to each other—for just a little while, miss delaware. isn't it true? if it is only play, why, let's play at it.

"i forgot to tell you," he added, "that my son-in-law, mr. halsey, has gone back to chicago. he was summoned by wire. no one else knows us both. there wouldn't be one chance in many of our being seen by any one here who knew either of us, and if so, what harm? we'll go and dine as well as the best of them, in the main room. what do you say, miss delaware?"

x

she stood facing him now, seeming years older than she had a few moments before. a very skilled observer might possibly have suspected a certain new quality in the calmness of her eye. beautiful she certainly was; alluring, irresistible in the ancient appeal of woman, she certainly ought to have been, and would have been to any but this particular man who now stood facing her, half smiling; a man of middle age, gray about the temples, of heavy-browed eyes, strongly lined face, of strong and bony frame; not an ill-looking or unmanly man one might have said, though years older than this young woman who stood now threading between her fingers the filmy moonshine chain which suspended the points of flame that rose and fell upon her bosom.

at last she said, hesitating, and holding up the flaming pendant, "i'm not to keep them?"

"no, marguerite!" he smiled. "this particular papa faust retains a string on those jewels. they have been seen elsewhere, my dear girl. no, one night's use of them is all this business proposition carries, my dear."

he began to be just a shade more familiar; but she looked at him, still curiously helpless, because she found him strong where most men are weak and defenseless. he caught some sort of challenge in her attitude and in spite of himself trod a half step forward.... she evaded him. he heard her laughter rippling in the hall, and followed.... soon they were in the crowded lift, packed in against shirt front and aigrette, silks and jewels, arms and bosoms bared for the evening's fray.

xi

it may be true that no gentleman is grown in less than three generations, but it is not the case that it requires three generations to produce an aristocrat; and here was simple and perfect proof of that assertion. head waiters make no mistakes! the head-waiter of the main hall unhesitatingly took john rawn and his companion to as good a table as there was in the room. he knew the air of distinction when he saw it!

heads, in plenty, of men and other women, turned as they passed through in that careless throng of the world-wise and blasé. they walked by quietly, simply, took their places with no ostentation. john rawn had bethought him earlier as to the dinner order. he gave his directions now quietly, without hesitation.

the two ate and drank discreetly, comported themselves, in fact, easily as any of these scores of others. they did not lean toward each other and obviously talk secrets, they did not laugh uneasily and stare about. among the many well-bred women in that room—where at least a few such were present—none showed an easier accustomedness than virginia delaware. her eagerness, her feverish anxiety, all now were gone. she was perfectly in hand. it was her pleasure now only to prove her fitness for such a scene, to comport herself as though she had known no other surroundings than these in all her life. once more the miracle of possibility in the young american woman was shown.

rawn, discreet as his companion, looked on with approval. "you're it!" he once whispered across the table, as he bent above the menu. "you are the part!" suddenly there came to him out of this occasion an additional surge of self-confidence. yes, he said to himself, he, too, could travel this gait. he could step easily into this life, the summit of life in america—as he thought—as though born to it. he could spend money with the best. he could obtain for himself as beautiful a woman to wear his jewels as any man here in all this great city. he could as widely advertise his power, his wealth, as any of these. did he not see envious eyes bent upon his companion and upon himself? it was done! he had won! he had succeeded!

xii

after all, it had been easy, as he had found so many things easy in the test. as to the young woman with him, john rawn's cold heart went out in admiration. "by jove!" he said, "she's a lady, that's what she is. she'd be—" yet it is to be noted that his admiration for this young woman was primarily based not upon the usual impulses of men so situated, but upon a vast self-respect, for that he had placed her here and so proved his own judgment to be good. some souls are slow to any love but that of self, the approbation of self being the breath of life to them. even the beauty of virginia delaware—and she was beautiful—was swallowed up in john rawn's love and admiration for himself.

there was, thus far, no suggestion of impropriety between them, now or later. they dined long, deliberately and well. miss delaware drank no wine, rawn himself only abstemiously. the keenest delight of the evening felt by either came not of food or drink. the intoxication of the city's night life fell upon them, entered their souls. distant and low-voiced musical instruments set the air athrob with sensuous melody. flowers bloomed, jewels blazed, soft voices rose, wine added its stimulus here and there. cut beyond this luxury, this sensuousness, beyond the novelty of it, beyond the vague impulses of a common humanity which runs through all the world, they felt the last and subtle delight which comes with an admitted assuredness of self—the consciousness of power and ability to prevail, the certainty of knowing all the path, all the full orbit of the great.

xiii

as they sat thus calmly, apparently, as most might have said, old habitués of scenes like this, apparently persons of wealth and distinction, rawn felt once more bent upon him the look of a passer-by. there approached the table where they sat the couple he had seen earlier that evening, a stately and beautiful young woman, whose features now were a trifle more animated, whose eyes were brighter; and with her the same dyspeptic director, sallow, with pointed dark beard. his face flushed still more as he saw john rawn and his companion. he turned an admiring gaze upon the latter, whom of course he did not recognize. rawn caught the gaze. it was the keenest delight of his evening that he could smile back, showing his own teeth also.

"by jove!" muttered the ex-director to himself.

"i beg pardon!" haughtily commented his own fair companion, who had caught his gaze aside. "you know that person? who is she?"

"i don't know, my dear—i'm just trying to think. her face—it looks like the goddess on some stock certificate i've seen—"

"indeed?"

"yes, goddess with a handful of lightning bolts."

"indeed?"

"yes. we might call her the 'lady of the lightnings' to-night. she surely does shine like the bright and morning star, the way she's illuminated—eh, what?"

"indeed?"

"well, hang it all! yes. she's a looker, too!"

"indeed?"

"yes, indeed! and they both look like ready money." the ex-director gave a little laugh.

"you don't know them?" asked his companion, more placated as they readied the corridor, where virginia delaware was at last out of sight.

"no, i don't know her—never saw her before, unless, as i said, in an engraving. don't worry—i haven't got any of the engravings—now."

"who is he?"

"fellow by name of rawn, from chicago."

"oh!"