se and in a single sentence put ex-Governor Bowen in nomination.
There was a faint ripple of applause which was instantly checked. A
silence of several seconds and--

"Mr. Chairman, and gentle--"

It was the voice Pauline knew so well. She could not see him, but that
voice seemed to make him visible to her. She caught her breath and her
heart beat wildly. He got no further into seconding Bowen's nomination
than the middle of the fourth word. There may have been ears offended
by the thunder-clap which burst in that theater, but those ears were
not Pauline's, were not in Olivia Pierson's box. And then came
tumbling and roaring, huge waves of adulation, with his name shouted in
voices hoarse and voices shrill like hissing foam on the triumphant
crests of billows. And Pauline felt as if she were lifted from her
bodily self, were tossing in a delirium of ecstasy on a sea of sheer
delight.

And now he was on the platform, borne there above the shoulders of a
hundred men. He was standing pale and straight and mighty. He
stretched out his hand, so large and strong, and somehow as honest as
his eyes; the tempest stilled. He was speaking--what did he say? She
hardly heard, though she knew that it was of and for right and
justice--what else could that voice utter or the brain behind those
proud features think? With her, and with all there, far more than his
words it was his voice, like music, like magic, rising and falling in
thrilling inflections as it wove its spell of gold and fire. Whenever
he paused there would be an instant of applause--a huge, hoarse
thunder, the call of that mysterious and awful and splendid soul of the
mass--an instant full of that one great, deep, throbbing note, then
silence to hear him again.

Scarborough had measured his task--to lift that convention from the
slough of sordidness to which the wiles and bribes of Dumont and his
clique had lured it; to set it in the highroad of what he believed with
all his intensity to be the high-road of right. Usually he spoke with
feeling strongly repressed; but he knew that if he was to win that day
against such odds he must take those delegates by surprise and by
storm, must win in a suddenly descended whirlwind of passion that would
engulf calculation and craft, sordidness and cynicism. He made few
gestures; he did not move from the position he had first taken. He
staked all upon his voice; into it he poured all his energy, all his
fire, all his