Harlan Thornton, looking in from the outside, had found politics, as managed for him, an abhorrent mess. Now, plunged in, he was embracing his opportunity, and finding good in the contest.
On the other hand, Harlan Thornton, making his own plea and his own pledges as a candidate, was embraced by the voters. He was not a mere legatee forced on them by a boss—he was speaking for himself, and the sincerity of the young man made itself felt.
At the end of the appointed two days he knew that his prospects were safe. One of the other towns in the district and three of the plantations had endorsed his name in caucus. If Thelismer Thornton had been responsible for his candidacy, so was his own personality responsible for this clearing away of difficulties. He felt his self-respect returning. That cruel wound to his pride was healing.
He was riding home in the evening of the second day, past the end of the long bridge, finding comfort in this thought.
A white figure, framed in the black mouth of the bridge, startled rider and horse.
"It's only Clare," she said. "I heard you were up the river to-day, and
I've been waiting for you."
He rode closer. It was a new and strange Clare who was revealed to him in the dim light. She was gowned and gloved, and her broad hat hid her boyish curls. She walked out of the gloom and leaned against the bridge rail.
"Ah, the little playmate did ride away from me forever!" he cried, looking her up and down. "But this young lady—why, she takes my breath away!" He took off his hat and bowed to the pommel.
"You needn't make fun of me, Mr. Harlan Thornton," she returned, crisply. "And a real young lady wouldn't come down in this bridge and wait for you. I wanted to tell you I'm glad. I hear all about your success. When I was a little girl I didn't want you to go away and be a big man. But now that I'm a woman I'm glad you're going. I wanted you to realize, Mr. Harlan Thornton, that I'm a woman, so if you'll reach down your hand I'll shake it and congratulate you."
He took her little hand in both his own.