You can scarcely have failed to understand that I admired you extremely.

I have delayed to utter my desire to make you my wife because I did not dare to cherish too fondly the hope that the love inspired in me could be reciprocated, and that you would consent to unite your life to mine and trust your happiness to my keeping. If I may say so, we are no boy and girl. We understand the solemn significance of marriage; what it imports and what it demands. Of late I have ventured to dream that the sympathy in ideas and ident.i.ty of purpose which exist between us might be the trustworthy sign of a spiritual bond which we could not afford to ignore. I feel that without you the joy and power of my life will be incomplete. With you at my side I shall aspire to great things. You are to me the embodiment of what is charming and serviceable in woman."

Selma looked up. "I like you very much, Mr. Lyons. You, in your turn, must have realized that, I think. As you say, we are no boy and girl.

You meant by that, too, that we both have been married before. I have had two husbands, and I did not believe that I could ever think of marriage again. I don't wish you to suppose that my last marriage was not happy. Mr. Littleton was an earnest, talented man, and devoted to me. Yet I cannot deny that in spite of mutual love our married life was not a success--a success as a contribution to accomplishment. That nearly broke my heart, and he--he died from lack of the physical and mental vigor which would have made so much difference. I am telling you this because I wish you to realize that if I should consent to comply with your wishes, it would be because I was convinced that true accomplishment--the highest accomplishment--would result from the union of our lives as the result of our riper experience. If I did not believe, Mr. Lyons, that man and woman as we are--no longer boy and girl--a more perfect scheme of happiness, a grander conception of the meaning of life than either of us had entertained was before us, I would not consider your offer for one moment."

"Yes, yes, I understand," Lyons exclaimed eagerly. "I share your belief implicitly. It was what I would have said only--"

Despite his facility as an orator, Lyons left this sentence incomplete in face of the ticklish difficulty of explaining that he had refrained from suggesting such a hope to a widow who had lost her husband only two years before. Yet he hastened to bridge over this ellipsis by saying, "Without such a faith a union between us must fall short of its sweetest and grandest opportunities."

"It would be a mockery; there would be no excuse for its existence,"

cried Selma impetuously. "I am an idealist, Mr. Lyons," she said clasping her hands. "I believe devotedly in the mission and power of love. But I believe that our conception of love changes as we grow. I welcomed love formerly as an intoxicating, delirious potion, and as such it was very sweet. You have just told me of your own feelings toward me, so it is your right to know that lately I have begun to realize that my a.s.sociation with you has brought peace into my life--peace and religious faith--essentials of happiness of which I have not known the blessings since I was a child. You have dedicated yourself to a lofty work; you have chosen the n.o.ble career of a statesman--a statesman zealous to promote principles in which we both believe. And you ask me to share with you the labors and the privileges which will result from this dedication. If I accept your offer, it must be because I know that I love you--love you in a sense I have not loved before--may the dead pardon me! If I accept you it will be because I wish to perpetuate that faith and peace, and because I believe that our joint lives will realize worthy accomplishment." Selma looked into s.p.a.ce with her wrapt gaze, apparently engaged in an intense mental struggle.

"And you will accept? You do feel that you can return my love? I cannot tell you how greatly I am stirred and stimulated by what you have said.

It makes me feel that I could never be happy without you." Lyons put into this speech all his solemnity and all his emotional beneficence of temperament. He was genuinely moved. His first marriage had been a love match. His wife--a mere girl--had died within a year; so soon that the memory of her was a tender but hazy sentiment rather than a formulated impression of character. By virtue of this memory he had approached marriage again as one seeking a companion for his fireside, and a comely, sensible woman to preside over his establishment and promote his social status, rather than one expecting to be possessed by or to inspire a dominant pa.s.sion. Yet he, too, regarded himself distinctly as an idealist, and he had lent a greedy ear to Selma's suggestion that mature mutual sympathy and comradeship in establishing convictions and religious aims were the source of a n.o.bler type of love than that a.s.sociated with early matrimony. It increased his admiration for her, and gave to his courtship, the touch of idealism which--partly owing to his own modesty as a man no longer in the flush of youth--it had lacked.

He nervously stroked his beard with his thick hand, and gave himself up to the spell of this vision of blessedness while he eagerly watched Selma's face and waited for her answer. To combine moral purpose and love in a pervasive alliance appealed to him magnetically as a religious man.

Selma, as she faced Lyons, was conscious necessarily of the contrast between him and her late husband. But she was attuned to regard his coa.r.s.er physical fibre as masculine vigor and a protest against aristocratic delicacy, and to derive comfort and exaltation from it.

"Mr. Lyons," she said, "I will tell you frankly that the circ.u.mstances of married life have hitherto hampered the expression of that which is in me, and confined the scope of my individuality within narrow and uncongenial limits. I am not complaining; I have no intention to rake up the past; but it is proper you should know that I believe myself capable of larger undertakings than have yet been afforded me, and worthy of ampler recognition than I have yet received. If I accept you as a husband, it will be because I feel confident that you will give my life the opportunity to expand, and that you sympathize with my desire to express myself adequately and to labor hand in hand, side by side, with you in the important work of the world."

"That is what I would have you do, Selma. Because you are worthy of it, and because it is your right."

"On that understanding it seems that we might be very happy."

"I am certain of it. You fill my soul with gladness," he cried, and seizing her hand he pressed it to his lips and covered it with kisses, but she withdrew it, saying, "Not yet--not yet. This step represents so much to me. It means that if I am mistaken in you, my whole life will be ruined, for the next years should be my best. We must not be too hasty.

There are many things to be thought of. I must consider Mr. Parsons. I cannot leave him immediately, if at all, for he is very dependent on me."

"I had thought of that. While Mr. Parsons lives, I realize that your first duty must be to him."

The reverential gravity of his tone was in excess of the needs of the occasion, and Selma understood that he intended to imply that Mr.

Parsons would not long need her care. The same thought was in her own mind, and it had occurred to her in the course of her previous cogitations in regard to Lyons, that in the event of his death it would suit her admirably to continue to occupy the house as its real mistress.

She looked grave for a moment in her turn, then with a sudden access of coyness she murmured, "I do not believe that I am mistaken in you."

"Ah," he cried, and would have folded her in his arms, but she evaded his onset and said with her dramatic intonation, "The knights of old won their lady-loves by brilliant deeds. If you are elected a member of Congress, you may come to claim me."

Reflection served only to convince Selma of the wisdom of her decision to try matrimony once more. She argued, that though a third marriage might theoretically seem repugnant if stated as a bald fact, the actual circ.u.mstances in her case not merely exonerated her from a lack of delicacy, but afforded an exhibition of progress--a gradual evolution in character. She felt light-hearted and triumphant at the thought of her impending new importance as the wife of a public man, and she interested herself exuberantly in the progress of the political campaign. She was pleased to think that her stipulation had given her lover a new spur to his ambition, and she was prepared to believe that his victory would be due to the exhaustive efforts to win which the cruel possibility of losing her obliged him to make.

This was a campaign era of torch-light processions. The rival factions expressed their confidence and enthusiasm by parading at night in a series of battalions armed with torches--some resplendently flaring, some glittering gayly through colored gla.s.s--and bearing transparencies inscribed with trenchant sentiments. The houses of their adherents along the route were illuminated from attic to cellar with rows of candles, and the atmosphere wore a dusky glow of red and green fire. To Selma all this was entrancing. She revelled in it as an introduction to the more conspicuous life which she was about to lead. She showed herself a zealous and enthusiastic partisan, shrouding the house in the darkness of Erebus on the occasion when the rival procession pa.s.sed the door, and imparting to every window the effect of a blaze of light on the following evening--the night before election--when the Democratic party made its final appeal to the voters. Standing on a balcony in evening dress, in company with Mrs. Earle and Miss Luella Bailey, whom she had invited to view the procession from the River Drive, Selma looked down on the parade in an ecstatic mood. The torches, the music, the fireworks and the enthusiasm set her pulses astir and brought her heart into her mouth in melting appreciation of the sanct.i.ty of her party cause and her own enviable destiny as the wife of an American Congressman. She held in one hand a flag which she waved from time to time at the conspicuous features of the procession, and she stationed herself so that the Bengal lights and other fireworks set off by Mr. Parsons's hired man should throw her figure into conspicuous relief. The culminating interest of the, occasion for her was reached when the James O. Lyons Cadets, the special body of youthful torch-bearers devoted to advertising the merits of her lover, for whose uniforms and accoutrements he had paid, came in sight.

They proved to be the most flourishing looking organization in line.

They were preceded by a large, nattily attired drum corps; their ranks were full, their torches l.u.s.trous, and they bore a number of transparencies setting forth the predominant qualifications of the candidate for Congress from the second district, the largest of which presented his portrait superscribed with the sentiment, "A vote for James O. Lyons is a vote in support of the liberties of the plain people." On the opposite end of the canvas was the picture of the king of beasts, with open jaws and bristling mane, with the motto, "Our Lyons's might will keep our inst.i.tutions sacred." In the midst of this glittering escort the candidate himself rode in an open barouche on his way to the hall where he was to deliver a final speech. He was bowing to right and left, and constant cheers marked his progress along the avenue. Selma leaned forward from the balcony to obtain the earliest sight of her hero. The rolling applause was a new, intoxicating music in her ears, and filled her soul with transport. She clapped her hands vehemently; seized a roman-candle, and amid a blaze of fiery sparks exploded its colored stars in the direction of the approaching carriage.

Then with the flag slanted across her bosom, she stood waiting for his recognition. It was made solemnly, but with the unequivocal demonstration of a cavalier or knight of old, for Lyons stood up, and doffing his hat toward her, made a conspicuous salute. A salvo of applause suggested to Selma that the mult.i.tude had understood that he was according to her the homage due a lady-love, and that their cheers were partly meant for her. She put her hand to her bosom with the gesture of a queen of melodrama, and culling one from a bunch of roses Lyons had sent her that afternoon threw it from the balcony at the carriage. The flower fell almost into the lap of her lover, who clutched it, pressed it to his lips, and doffed his hat again. The episode had been visible to many, and a hoa.r.s.e murmur of interested approval crowned the performance. The glance of the crowds on the sidewalk was turned upward, and someone proposed three cheers for the lady in the balcony.

They were given. Selma bowed to either side in delighted acknowledgment, while the torches of the cadets waved tumultuously, and there was a fresh outburst of colored fires.

"I can't keep the secret any longer," she exclaimed, turning to her two companions. "I'm engaged to be married to Mr. Lyons."

CHAPTER V.

Lyons was chosen to Congress by a liberal margin. The Congressional delegation from his State was almost evenly divided between the two parties as the result of the election, and the majorities in every case were small. Consequently the more complete victory of Lyons was a feather in his cap, and materially enhanced his political standing.

The sudden death of Mr. Parsons within a week of the election saved Selma's conscience from the strain of arranging a harmonious and equitable separation from him. She had felt that the enlargement of her sphere of life and the opportunity to serve her country which this marriage offered were paramount to any other considerations, but she was duly conscious that Mr. Parsons would miss her sorely, and she was considering the feasibility of subst.i.tuting Miss Bailey as his companion in her place, when fate supplied a different solution. Selma had pledged her friends to secrecy, so that Mr. Parsons need know nothing until the plans for his happiness had been perfected, and he died in ignorance of the interesting matrimonial alliance which had been fostered under his roof. By the terms of his will Selma was bequeathed the twenty thousand dollars he had promised her. She and Mr. Lyons, with a third person, to be selected by them, were appointed trustees of the Free Hospital with which he had endowed Benham, and Mr. Lyons was nominated as the sole executor under the will.

Selma's conception that her third betrothal was coincident with spiritual development, and that she had fought her way through hampering circ.u.mstances to a higher plane of experience, had taken firm hold of her imagination. She presently confessed to Lyons that she had not hitherto appreciated the full meaning of the dogma that marriage was a sacrament. She evinced a disposition to show herself with him at church gatherings, and to cultivate the acquaintance of his pastor. She felt that she had finally secured the opportunity to live the sober, simple life appropriate to those who believed in maintaining American principles, and in eschewing luxurious and effete foreign innovations; the sort of life she had always meant to live, and from which she had been debarred. She had now not only opportunity, but a responsibility.

As the bride of a Congressman, it behooved her both to pursue virtue for its own sake and for the sake of example. It was inc.u.mbent on her to preserve and promote democratic conditions in signal opposition to so-called fashionable society, and at the same time to a.s.sert her own proper dignity and the dignity of her const.i.tuents by a suitable outward show.

This last subtlety of reflection convinced Selma that they ought to occupy the house on the River Drive. Lyons himself expressed some doubts as to the advisability of this. He admitted that he could afford the expense, and that it was just such a residence as he desired, but he suggested that their motives might not be understood, and he questioned whether it were wise, with the State so close, to give his political enemies the chance to make unjust accusations.

"Of course you ought to understand about this matter better than I," she said; "but I have the feeling, James, that your const.i.tuents will be disappointed if we don't show ourselves appreciative of the dignity of your position. We both agree that we should make Benham our home, and that it will be preferable if I visit Washington a month or two at a time during the session rather than for us to set up housekeeping there, and I can't help believing that the people will be better pleased if you, as their representative, make that home all which a beautiful home should be. They will be proud of it, and if they are, you needn't mind what a few fault-finders say. I have been thinking it over, and it seems to me that we shall make a mistake to let this house go. It just suits us. I feel sure that in their hearts the American people like to have their public men live comfortably. This house is small compared to many in New York, and I flatter myself that we shall be able to satisfy everyone that we are rootedly opposed to unseemly extravagance of living."

Lyons yielded readily to this argument. He had been accustomed to simple surroundings, but travel and the growth of Benham itself had demonstrated to him that the ways of the nation in respect to material possessions and comforts had undergone a marked change since his youth.

He had been brought in contact with this new development in his capacity of adviser to the magnates of Benham, and he had fallen under the spell of improved creature comforts. Still, though he cast sheep's eyes at these flesh pots, he had felt chary, both as a worker for righteousness and an ardent champion of popular principles, of countenancing them openly. Yet his original impulse toward marriage had been a desire to secure an establishment, and now that this result was at hand he found himself ambitious to put his household on a braver footing, provided this would do injury neither to his moral scruples nor to his political sincerity. The problem was but another phase of that presented to him by his evolution from a jury lawyer, whose hand and voice were against corporations, to the status of a richly paid chamber adviser to railroads and banking houses. He was exactly in the frame of mind to grasp at the euphemism offered by Selma. He was not one to be convinced without a reason, but his mind eagerly welcomed a suggestion which justified on a moral ground the proceeding to which they were both inclined. The idea that the people would prefer to see him as their representative living in a style consistent with the changes in manners and customs introduced by national prosperity, affording thereby an example of correct and elevating stewardship of reasonable wealth, by way of contrast to vapid society doings, came to him as an illumination which dissipated his doubts.

The wedding took place about three months after the death of Mr.

Parsons. In her renovated outlook regarding matrimony, Selma included formal preparations for and some pomp of circ.u.mstances at the ceremony.

It suited her pious mood that she was not required again to be married off-hand, and that she could plight her troth in a decorous fashion, suitably attired and amid conventional surroundings. Her dress was a subject of considerable contemplation. She guided her lover's generosity until it centred on a diamond spray for her hair and two rings set with handsome precious stones. She did not discourage Miss Luella Bailey from heralding the approaching nuptials in the press. She became Mrs. Lyons in a conspicuous and solemn fashion before the gaze of everybody in Benham whom there was any excuse for asking to the church. After a collation at the Parsons house, the happy pair started on their honeymoon in a special car put at their service by one of the railroads for which the bridegroom was counsel. This feature delighted Selma.

Indeed, everything, from the complimentary embrace of her husband's pastor to the details of her dress and wedding presents, described with elaborate good will in the evening newspapers, appeared to her gratifying and appropriate.

They were absent six weeks, during which the Parsons house was to be redecorated and embellished within and without according to instructions given by Selma before her departure. Their trip extended to California by way of the Yosemite. Selma had never seen the wonders of the far western scenery, and this appropriate background for their sentiment also afforded Lyons the opportunity to inspect certain railroad lines in which he was financially interested. The atmosphere of the gorgeous snow-clad peaks and impressive chasms served to heighten still further the intensity of Selma's frame of mind. She managed adroitly on several occasions to let people know who they were, and it pleased her to observe the conductor indicating to pa.s.sengers in the common cars that they were Congressman Lyons and his wife on their honeymoon. She was looking forward to Washington, and as she stood in the presence of the inspiring beauties of nature she was p.r.o.ne to draw herself up in rehearsal of the dignity which she expected to wear. What were these mountains and canyons but physical counterparts of the human soul? What but correlative representatives of grand ideas, of n.o.ble lives devoted to the cause of human liberty? She felt that she was very happy, and she bore testimony to this by walking arm in arm with her husband, leaning against his firm, stalwart shoulder. It seemed to her desirable that the public should know that they were a happy couple and defenders of the purity of the home. On their way back the train was delayed on Washington's birthday for several hours by a wash-out, and presently a deputation made up of pa.s.sengers and townspeople waited on Lyons and invited him to deliver an open-air address. He and Selma, when the committee arrived, were just about to explore the neighborhood, and Lyons, though ordinarily he would have been glad of such an opportunity, looked at his wife with an expression which suggested that he would prefer a walk with her. The eyes of the committee followed his, appreciating that he had thrown the responsibility of a decision on his bride. Selma was equal to the occasion. "Of course he will address you,"

she exclaimed. "What more suitable place could there be for offering homage to the father of our country than this majestic prairie?" She added, proudly, "And I am glad you should have the opportunity to hear my husband speak."

Some letters requiring attention were forwarded to Lyons at one of the cities where they stopped. As they lay on his dressing-table Selma caught sight of the return address, Williams & Van Horne, printed on the uppermost envelope. The reminder aroused a host of a.s.sociations. Flossy had not been much in her thoughts lately, yet she had not failed to plume herself occasionally with the reflection that she could afford now to snap her fingers at her. She had wondered more than once what Flossy would think when she heard that she was the wife of a Representative.

"Do you know these people personally?" she inquired, holding up the envelope.

"Yes. They are my--er--financial representatives in New York. I have considerable dealings with them."

Selma had not up to this time concerned herself as to the details of her husband's affairs. He had made clear to her that his income from his profession was large, and she knew that he was interested in a variety of enterprises. That he should have connections with a firm of New York brokers was one more proof to her of his common sense and capacity to take advantage of opportunities.

"Mr. Littleton used to buy stocks through Williams and Van Horne--only a few. He was not very clever at it, and failed to make the most of the chances given him to succeed in that way. We knew the Williamses at one time very well. They lived in the same block with us for several years after we were married."

"Williams is a capable, driving sort of fellow. Bold, but on the whole sagacious, I think," answered Lyons, with demure urbanity. It was rather a shock to him that his wife should learn that he had dealings in the stock market. He feared lest it might seem to her inconsistent with his other propensities--his religious convictions and his abhorrence of corporate rapacity. He preferred to keep such transactions private for fear they should be misunderstood. At heart he did not altogether approve of them himself. They were a part of his evolution, and had developed by degrees until they had become now so interwoven with his whole financial outlook that he could not escape from them at the moment if he would. Indeed some of them were giving him anxiety. He had supposed that the letter in question contained a request for a remittance to cover depreciation in his account. Instead he had read with some annoyance a confidential request from Williams that he would work for a certain bill which, in his capacity as a foe of monopoly, he had hoped to be able to oppose. It offended his conscience to think that he might be obliged secretly to befriend a measure against which his vote must be cast. As has been intimated, he would have preferred that his business affairs should remain concealed from his wife. Yet her remarks were unexpectedly and agreeably rea.s.suring. They served to furnish a fresh indication on her part of intelligent sympathy with the perplexities which beset the path of an ambitious public man. They suggested a subtle appreciation of the reasonableness of his behavior, notwithstanding its apparent failure to tally with his outward professions.

Selma's reply interrupted this rhapsody.

"I ought to tell you, I suppose, that I quarrelled with Mrs. Williams before I left New York. Or, rather, she quarrelled with me. She insulted me in my own house, and I was obliged to order her to leave it."

"Quarrelled? That is a pity. An open break? Open breaks in friendship are always unfortunate." Lyons looked grieved, and fingered his beard meditatively.

"I appreciate," said Selma, frankly, "that our falling out will be an inconvenience in case we should meet in Washington or elsewhere, since you and Mr. Williams have business interests in common. Of course, James, I wish to help you in every way I can. I might as well tell you about it. I think she was jealous of me and fancied I was trying to cut her out socially. At all events, she insinuated that I was not a lady, because I would not lower my standards to hers, and adopt the frivolous habits of her little set. But I have not forgotten, James, your suggestion that people in public life can accomplish more if they avoid showing resentment and strive for harmony. I shall be ready to forget the past if Mrs. Williams will, for my position as your wife puts me beyond the reach of her criticism. She's a lively little thing in her way, and her husband seems to understand about investments and how to get ahead."

They went direct to Washington without stopping at Benham. It was understood that the new session of Congress was to be very short, and they were glad of an opportunity to present themselves in an official capacity at the capital as a conclusion to their honeymoon, before settling down at home. Selma found a letter from Miss Bailey, containing the news that Pauline Littleton had accepted the presidency of Wetmore College, the buildings of which were now practically completed. Selma gasped as she read this. She had long ago decided that her sister-in-law's studies were unpractical, and that Pauline was doomed to teach small cla.s.ses all her days, a task for which she was doubtless well fitted. She resented the selection, for, in her opinion, Pauline lacked the imaginative talent of Wilbur, and yet shared his subjective, unenthusiastic ways. More than once it had occurred to her that the presidency of Wetmore was the place of all others for which she herself was fitted. Indeed, until Lyons had offered himself she had cherished in her inner consciousness the hope that the course of events might demonstrate that she was the proper person to direct the energies of this new medium for the higher education of women. It irritated her to think that an inst.i.tution founded by Benham philanthropy, and which would be a vital influence in the development of Benham womanhood, should be under the control of one who was hostile to American theories and methods. Selma felt so strongly on the subject that she thought of airing her objections in a letter to Mr. Flagg, the donor, but she concluded to suspend her strictures until her return to Benham. She sent, however, to Miss Bailey, who was now regularly attached to one of the Benham newspapers, notes for an article which should deplore the choice by the trustees of one who was unfamiliar and presumably out of sympathy with Benham thought and impulse.

Selma's emotions on her arrival in Washington were very different from those which she had experienced in New York as the bride of Littleton.

Then she had been unprepared for, dazed, and offended by what she saw.

Now, though she mentally a.s.sumed that the capital was the parade ground of American ideas and principles, she felt not merely no surprise at the august appearance of the wide avenues, but she was eagerly on the lookout, as they drove from the station to the hotel, for signs of social development. The aphorism which she had supplied to her husband, that the American people prefer to have their representatives live comfortably, dwelt in her thoughts and was a solace to her. Despite her New York experience, she had the impression that the doors of every house in Washington would fly open at her approach as the wife of a Congressman. She did not formulate her antic.i.p.ations as to her reception, but she entertained a general expectation that their presence would be acknowledged as public officials in a notable way. She dressed herself on the morning after their arrival at the hotel with some showiness, so as to be prepared for flattering emergencies. She had said little to her husband on the subject, for she had already discovered that, though he was ambitious that they should appear well, he was disposed to leave the management of social concerns to her. His information had been limited to bidding her come prepared for the reception to be given at the White House at the rea.s.sembling of Congress. Selma had brought her wedding-dress for this, and was looking forward to it as a gala occasion.