Part 31 (1/2)

Senator Maxwell, who had more of the restlessness of youth than the repose of age, threw back his silver head and gave his little irritated laugh. ”That is it,” he said. ”It is the l.u.s.t of blood that possesses the United States. They don't know it. They call it sympathy; but their blood is aching for a fight, so that they can read the exciting horrors of it in the newspapers. You might as well reason with mad dogs.”

”I shall not attempt to reason with my kennel,” said Burleigh. ”In the present congested state of the mails this particular memorial has gone astray.”

”The trials of a Senator!” cried Sally Carter. ”Pet.i.tions and lobbyists, election clouds, fractious and dishonest legislatures, unprincipled bosses and the country gone mad!”

”I can give you a list as long as my arm,” said Senator March, grimly; ”and you may believe it or not, but it is all I can do to walk in my Committee-room and I haven't a chair to sit on. I live under a snow-storm of pet.i.tions, memorials, and resolutions. I expect to see them come flying through the window, and I dream of nothing else.”

Betty had taken part in the general conversation until the last few moments, but as it concentrated on the subject of Cuban autonomy and her guests ceased to appeal to her, she fell into conversation with Senator North, who she knew would be willing to dispense with politics for a few moments.

”You have no idea how I miss Jack Emory,” she said. ”He half lived with us, you know, and I am always expecting to meet him in the hall. When I was writing my invitations I caught myself beginning a note, 'Dear Jack.' It is uncanny.”

”It is the only revenge the dead have; and doubtless it is this vivid after life of theirs in memory that is at the root of the belief in ghosts. You say that you are going to open your _salon_ every year with a dinner to the original members. It will be interesting to watch the two faces in some of the seats--if you attempt to fill the vacant chairs.”

Betty pressed her handkerchief against her lips, for she knew they had turned white. She was but twenty-eight, and if her _salon_ was the success it promised to be she would sit at the head of this table for twenty-eight years to come, and then have compa.s.sed fewer years than the man beside her. She had refused resolutely to permit her thought to dwell on the tragic difference in their ages, a difference that had no meaning now, but would symbolize death and desolation hereafter; but her mind had moments of abrupt insight that no Will could conquer, and not long since she had gasped and covered her face with her hands.

”That was brutal of me,” he said hurriedly. ”Your dinner is the brilliant success that it deserves to be, and you should be permitted to be entirely happy. There is not a bored face, and if they are all jabbering about the everlasting subject, so much the better for you. It gives your _salon_ its political character at once; you would have had a hard time getting them to begin on bimetallism and the census--perish the thought! Ward is now making Lady Mary think that she is a greater diplomatist than himself. Maxwell and the Speaker are wrangling across your mother, who looks alarmed; Burleigh is flirting desperately with Miss Alice Maxwell, who is purring upon his senatorial vanity; your Populist is breaking out into the turgid rhetoric of Mr. Bryan; French has persuaded that charming English girl that he is the most literary man in America, and Miss Carter is condoling with March about an ungrateful State. So be happy, my darling, be happy.”

His voice had dropped suddenly. She made an involuntary movement toward him.

”I am,” she said below her breath. ”I am.” She added in a moment, ”Will you always come to my Thursday evenings, no matter what happens?”

”Always.”

He had turned slightly, and one hand was on his knee. She slipped hers into it recklessly; they were safe in the crowd, and her hand ached for his. It ached from the grasp it received, for he was a man whose self-control was absolute or non-existent. But she clung to him as long as she dared, and when she withdrew her hand she sought for distraction in her company.

It looked as gay and happy as if war had been invented to animate conversation and make a bored people feel dramatic. Death was close upon the heels of two of the distinguished men present; but even though the eyes of the soul be raised everlastingly to the world above, they are blind to the portal. The busy member who had incurred Miss Carter's disapproval and the brilliant Librarian of Congress were among the liveliest at the feast.

It was Senator Ward at one end of the table and Burleigh at the other, who finally started the topic of Miss Madison's intended _salon_, not only that those unacquainted with her ambition might be enlightened, but that the great intention should receive a concrete form without further delay. A half-hour later, when the women left the table, Betty had the satisfaction of knowing that whatever the final result of her venture, her stand was as fully recognized as if she had written a book and found a publisher and critics to advertise her.

V

Betty went to the Senate Gallery on the following day at the request of Armstrong, and heard an exposition of the Populist religion by the benevolent-looking bore from Nebraska. He was followed by an arraignment of the ”gold standard Administration” and the Republican Party, from the leading advocate of bimetallism with-or-without-the-concurrence-of-Europe. The utterances of both gentlemen were delivered with the repose and dignity peculiar to their body, and Patriotism and the Const.i.tution would appear to be their watchword and fetish. Burleigh came up to the gallery as the Silver Senator sat down, and smiled wearily at Betty's puzzled comments.

”Of course they sound well,” he replied. ”In the first place there is always much to be said on both sides of any question, and a clever speaker can make his side dwarf the other. And of course no party could exist five minutes unless it had some good in it. There are several admirable principles in the Populist creed; there are enough windy theories to upset the Const.i.tution of which they prate; and, by the way, the more wrong-headed a would-be statesman is the more hysterically does he plead for the Const.i.tution. As to the other Senator--I sympathize as deeply with the farmer as any man, and I hoped against hope for the success of the bimetallic envoys; but the farmer is of considerably less importance than the national honour; and if a man is not statesman enough to take the national view when he comes to the Senate, he had better stay at home and become a party boss.”

”Are you in trouble at home? I saw that you made a speech just before you left.”

”They are furious, and elections are imminent; but I never have believed that it paid in the end to be a politician, and I propose to hold to that view. If I am not re-elected this time, I will venture to say that I shall be six years later--”

”Oh, I should be sorry! I should be sorry! Your heart is in the Senate.

How could you settle down contentedly to practise law in a Western city for six years?”

”I certainly should have very little to offer a woman,” he said bitterly. His frank handsome face had lost the expression of gayety which had sat so gracefully upon the determination of its contours; he looked hara.s.sed and a trifle cynical. ”There is only one thing I hate more than leaving the United States Senate--and G.o.d knows I love it and its traditions: what that is I feel I now have no right--”

”Oh, yes, you have; for if I loved you I would live at the North Pole with you, and I hate cold weather. I don't want you to put me in that sort of position, both for the sake of your own pride and for our friends.h.i.+p.”