The One Woman Part 38

"You seemed to eagerly await the nod of another man to-night."

She laughed.

"Am I not your serene-browed Grecian G.o.ddess whose untamed eyes of primeval womanhood proclaim the end of slave marriage?"

Gorden winced, scowled and was silent.

"I like the beautiful ceremony you invented. I've memorised every word of it," she said, teasingly.

He sat for several minutes sullenly looking at her with a strange fire in his eyes, now and then moistening his lips as though they burned.

At length he said: "It will be necessary for you to go to his office to-morrow to sign papers in the transfer of the deed of the Temple to me. The lawyers informed me to-day that everything was in readiness for your signature. After this event there will be no business requiring your further attendance at his bank."

She closed her eyes lazily.

"I am not going to sign any such deed," came the firm answer.

Gordon turned pale, nervously fumbled at his watch-chain and stammered:

"Kate, you don't mean this?"

"I do."

The man hesitated, as though stunned.

"After your announcement to the world, and all that has pa.s.sed between us, would you humiliate me by the withdrawal of your gift?"

She lifted her beautiful brows.

"Humiliate you? Surely I have honoured you with the richest gift woman can bestow on man: myself. The ownership of property can have no meaning after this. I claim my rights as your equal. Your eloquence and genius give you power. This money is scarcely its equivalent. You have your Temple, and I still have my fortune. Its investment in this building has enhanced its value. What more can you ask?"

"The fulfilment of your word of honour to the cause of truth," he firmly answered.

She smiled.

"Nonsense! You were my cause, my truth--the G.o.d I worshiped. I desired you. Now at closer range the aureole has slightly faded, though you are as handsome as ever, Frank, dear. What is money between us? We are equals. I will take the worry of financial details off your shoulders and leave you free for your inspiring work."

Gordon's eyes grew soft; he went over to the lounge on which she was resting, sat down and slipped his arm about her.

The full lips smiled with conscious cruelty.

He bent and kissed her pa.s.sionately.

"You are my priceless treasure, my dear. I am honoured in your beauty and love. Money is nothing to me, so long as you are mine."

She drew his head down and kissed him in a sudden burst of intensity.

"You know I love you, Frank!"

"And we must not quarrel," he said, wistfully, slipping to his knees with one arm still encircling her waist. "You and I have gone through too much for harsh words or thoughts to ever shadow our life. But you must give me more of your time, and other men less. A growing uneasiness and the loss of the sense of finality in life are robbing me of my capacity for thought and work."

"Not so bad as that surely," she cried, with teasing laughter.

"You're not afraid of losing me?"

"No; but you will promise?" he asked, tenderly.

She placed one of her arms about his neck, a soft warm hand under his chin, and, still laughing, slowly kissed him and murmured:

"I'll do just what I please, and you may do the same."

CHAPTER XXV

THE IRONY OF FATE

Morris King had ended a brilliant campaign for the Governorship of New York with victory. The entire ticket was elected by large pluralities.

The campaign had given scope to his ability, and he more than fulfilled the hopes of his friends. From the moment of his election, he became the leader of the party in the nation, and began at once the work of strengthening his position as a Presidential possibility.

Yet in the din and clash of this battle in which his personal fortunes, his future career, and perhaps the destiny of a great national party hung, he had not forgotten Ruth.

He made it a point every day, wherever he was, or whatever the task or excitement of the hour, to write her a love letter. Sometimes it was only a few lines hastily scrawled while on the train between stations where he addressed the crowds at each stop. Sometimes he sent a dainty box of flowers.

She never replied to his letters or little gifts. But it made no difference. He kept steadily on the course he had mapped out, dogged, purposeful, persistent.

The night of the election, when he received the first a.s.surance of his success, before he spoke to any of his lieutenants or received a single congratulation, he closed his door, locked it, and called Ruth over his telephone, which he had connected with her house by special secret arrangement that afternoon.

He recognised her soft contralto voice, and his hand trembled with the joy of the triumph which he felt brought him nearer to his heart's desire.

He was so excited he could not speak for a moment, and again the low soft voice called,

"What is it? Who is it?"

"This is Morris, Ruth. My door is locked, and this is a private wire connected with your house; I am alone with you and G.o.d. I am the Governor-elect of New York. I have spoken to no one until I tell you. One word from you I will prize more than all the shouts of the world with which the streets will ring in a moment."

There was a movement of the phone at the other end.

"With all my heart I congratulate you, Morris. You are a great man.

I can never tell you how deeply I feel the delicate honour you pay me."

The man sighed and his voice was husky with emotion.