And presently a large band of musicians halted before the house and began a serenade. They played and sang "Hail to the Chief," "Yankee Doodle," "Hail Columbia," and other popular or national airs.
Mr. Rothsay and his friends went out to see them and thank them, and then their shouts rent the air as they retired from the scene.
The gentlemen re-entered the house and retired to the library, where they resumed their discussion of official business, until another multitude had gathered before the house and shouts of--
"Hoo-rah-ah ah for Rothsay!" rose to the empyrean.
Neither the governor-elect nor his companions responded in any way to this compliment until loud, disorderly cries for--
The governor-elect was again greeted with thundering cheers. When silence was restored he made a short, pithy address, which was received with rounds of applause at the close of every paragraph.
When the speech was finished, he bowed and withdrew, and the crowd, with a final cheer, dispersed.
Mr. Rothsay retired once more to the library, accompanied by his friends, to renew their discussion.
Cora, in her restlessness of spirit, arose from her seat and walked several times up and down the floor.
Presently, weary of walking, and attracted by the coolness and darkness of the back drawing room, in which the chandeliers had not been lighted, she passed between the draped blue satin portieres that divided it from the front room and entered the apartment.
The French windows stood open upon a richly stored flower garden, from which the refreshing fragrance of dewy roses, lilies, violets, cape jasmines, and other aromatic plants was wafted by the westerly breeze.
Cora seated herself upon the sofa between the two low French windows, and waited.
Presently she heard the visitors taking leave.
"The committee will wait on you between ten and eleven to-morrow morning," she heard one gentleman say, as they passed out.
Then several "good nights" were uttered, and the guests all departed, and the door was closed.
Cora heard her husband's quick, eager step as he hurried into the front drawing room, seeking his wife.
She felt her heart sinking, the high nervous tension of her whole frame relaxing. She heard the hall clock strike ten. When the last stroke died away, she heard her husband's voice calling, softly: