UNLEAVENED BREAD

by

ROBERT GRANT

Author of _The Bachelor's Christmas_, etc. 

Charles Scribner's SonsNew York

1900

CONTENTS

BOOK ITHE EMANCIPATION

BOOK IITHE STRUGGLE

BOOK IIITHE SUCCESS

UNLEAVENED BREAD

BOOK I. 

THE EMANCIPATION

CHAPTER I. 

Babcock and Selma White were among the last of the wedding guests totake their departure. It was a brilliant September night with a touch ofautumn vigor in the atmosphere, which had not been without its effect onthe company, who had driven off in gay spirits, most of them inhay-carts or other vehicles capable of carrying a party. Their songs andlaughter floated back along the winding country road. Selma, comfortablein her wraps and well tucked about with a rug, leaned back contentedlyin the chaise, after the goodbyes had been said, to enjoy the glamour ofthe full moon. They were seven miles from home and she was in no hurryto get there. Neither festivities nor the undisguised devotion of a cityyoung man were common in her life. Consideration she had been used tofrom a child, and she knew herself to be tacitly acknowledged thesmartest girl in Westfield, but perhaps for that very reason she hadheld aloof from manhood until now. At least no youth in her neighborhoodhad ever impressed her as her equal. Neither did Babcock so impress her;but he was different from the rest. He was not shy and unexpressive; hewas buoyant and self-reliant, and yet he seemed to appreciate herquality none the less. 

They had met about a dozen times, and on the last six of these occasionshe had come from Benham, ten miles to her uncle's farm, obviously tovisit her. The last two times her Aunt Farley had made him spend thenight, and it had been arranged that he would drive her in the Farleychaise to Clara Morse's wedding. A seven-mile drive is apt to promote orkill the germs of intimacy, and on the way over she had been consciousof enjoying herself. Scrutiny of Clara's choice had been to theadvantage of her own cavalier. The bridegroom had seemed to her what herAunt Farley would call a mouse-in-the-cheese young man. Whereas Babcockhad been the life of the affair. 

She had been teaching now in Wilton for more than a year. When, shortlyafter her father's death, she had obtained the position of schoolteacher, it seemed to her that at last the opportunity had come todisplay her capabilities, and at the same time to fulfil heraspirations. But the task of grounding a class of small children in therudiments of simple knowledge had already begun to pall and to seemunsatisfying. Was she to spend her life in this? And if not, the nextstep, unless it were marriage, was not obvious. Not that she mistrustedher ability to shine in any educational capacity, but neither Wilton northe neighboring Westfield offered better, and she was conscious of alack of influential friends in the greater world, which was embodied forher in Benham. Benham was a western city of these United States, with aneastern exposure; a growing, bustling city according to rumor, with aneager population restless with new ideas and stimulating ambitions. Soat least Selma thought of it, and though Boston and New York and a fewother places were accepted by her as authoritative, she accepted them, as she accepted Shakespeare, as a matter of course and so far removedfrom her immediate outlook as almost not to count. But Benham with itsseventy-five thousand inhabitants and independent ways was a fascinatingpossibility. Once established there the world seemed within her grasp, including Boston. Might it not be that Benham, in that it was newer, wasnearer to truth and more truly American than that famous city? She wasnot prepared to believe this an absurdity. 

At least the mental atmosphere of Westfield and even of the somewhatless solemn Wilton suggested this apotheosis of the adjacent city to bereasonable. Westfield had stood for Selma as a society of serious thoughsimple souls since she could first remember and had been one of them. Not that she arrogated to her small native town any unusual qualities ofsoul or mind in distinction from most other American communities, butshe regarded it as inferior in point of view to none, and typical of thebest national characteristics. She had probably never put into words thereasons of her confidence, but her daily consciousness was permeatedwith them. To be an American meant to be more keenly alive to theresponsibility of life than any other citizen of civilization, and to bean American woman meant to be something finer, cleverer, stronger, andpurer than any other daughter of Eve. Under the agreeable but soberinginfluence of this faith she had grown to womanhood, and the heroic deedsof the civil war had served to intensify a belief, the truth of whichshe had never heard questioned. Her mission in life had promptly beenrecognized by her as the development of her soul along individual lines, but until the necessity for a choice had arisen she had been content tocontemplate a little longer. Now the world was before her, for she wastwenty-three and singularly free from ties. Her mother had died when shewas a child. Her father, the physician of the surrounding country, a manof engaging energy with an empirical education and a speculative habitof mind, had been the companion of her girlhood. During the last fewyears since his return from the war an invalid from a wound, her carefor him had left her time for little else. 

No more was Babcock in haste to reach home; and after the preliminarydash from the door into the glorious night he suffered the farm-horse topursue its favorite gait, a deliberate jog. He knew the creature to bedocile, and that he could bestow his attention on his companion withoutperil to her. His own pulses were bounding. He was conscious of havingmade the whirligig of time pass merrily for the company by his spiritsand jolly quips, and that in her presence, and he was groping for anappropriate introduction to the avowal he had determined to make. Hewould never have a better opportunity than this, and it had been hispreconceived intention to take advantage of it if all went well. All hadgone well and he was going to try. She had been kind coming over; andhad seemed to listen with interest as he told her about himself: andsomehow he had felt less distant from her. He was not sure what shewould say, for he realized that she was above him. That was one reasonwhy he admired her so. She symbolized for him refinement, poetry, art, the things of the spirit--things from which in the same whirligig oftime he had hitherto been cut off by the vicissitudes of the varnishbusiness; but the value of which he was not blind to. How proud he wouldbe of such a wife! How he would strive and labor for her! His heart wasin his mouth and trembled on his lip as he thought of the possibility. What a joy to be sitting side by side with her under this splendid moon!He would speak and know his fate. 

"Isn't it a lovely night?" murmured Selma appreciatively. "There theygo, " she added, indicating the disappearance over the brow of a hill ofthe last of the line of vehicles of the rest of the party, whose songshad come back fainter and fainter. 

"I don't care. Do you?" He snuggled toward her a very little. 

"I guess they won't think I'm lost, " she said, with a low laugh. 

"What d'you suppose your folks would say if you _were_ lost? I mean if Iwere to run away with you and didn't bring you back?" There was anervous ring in the guffaw which concluded his question. 

"My friends wouldn't miss me much; at least they'd soon get over theshock; but I might miss myself, Mr. Babcock. "

Selma was wondering why it was that she rather liked being alone withthis man, big enough, indeed, to play the monster, yet half school-boy, but a man who had done well in his calling. He must be capable; he couldgive her a home in Benham; and it was plain that he loved her. 

"I'll tell you something, " he said, eagerly, ignoring her suggestion. "I'd like to run away with you and be married to-night, Selma. That'swhat I'd like, and I guess you won't. But it's the burning wish of myheart that you'd marry me some time. I want you to be my wife. I'm arough fellow along-side of you, Selma, but I'd do well by you; I would. I'm able to look after you, and you shall have all you want. There's anice little house building now in Benham. Say the word and I'll buy itfor us to-morrow. I'm crazy after you, Selma. "

The rein was dangling, and Babcock reached his left arm around the waistof his lady-love. He had now and again made the same demonstration withothers jauntily, but this was a different matter. She was not to betreated like other women. She was a goddess to him, even in his ardor, and he reached gingerly. Selma did not wholly withdraw from the spreadof his trembling arm, though this was the first man who had everventured to lay a finger on her. 

"I'd have to give up my school, " she said. 

"They could get another teacher. "

"_Could_ they?"

"Not one like you. You see I'm clumsy, but I'm crazy for you, Selma. "Emboldened by the obvious feebleness of her opposition, he broadened hisclutch and drew her toward him. "Say you will, sweetheart. "

This time she pulled herself free and sat up in the chaise. "Would youlet me do things?" she asked after a moment. 

"Do things, " faltered Babcock. What could she mean? She had told him onthe way over that her mother had chosen her name from a theatricalplaybill, and it passed through his unsophisticated brain that she mightbe thinking of the stage. 

"Yes, do something worth while. Be somebody. I've had the idea I could, if I ever got the chance. " Her hands were folded in her lap; there was awrapt expression on her thin, nervous face, and a glitter in her keeneyes, which were looking straight at the moon, as though they wouldoutstare it in brilliancy. 

"You shall be anything you like, if you'll only marry me. What is ityou're wishing to be?"

"I don't know exactly. It isn't anything especial yet. It's the wholething. I thought I might find it in my school, but the experience so farhasn't been--satisfying. "

"Troublesome little brats!"

"No, I dare say the fault's in me. If I went to Benham to live it wouldbe different. Benham must be interesting--inspiring. "

"There's plenty of go there. You'd like it, and people would think lotsof you. "

"I'd try to make them. " She turned and looked at him judicially, butwith a softened expression. Her profile in her exalted mood hadsuggested a beautiful, but worried archangel; her full face seemed lessthis and wore much of the seductive embarrassment of sex. To Babcock sheseemed the most entrancing being he had ever seen. "Would you reallylike to have me come?"

He gave a hoarse ejaculation, and encircling her eagerly with his stronggrasp pressed his lips upon her cheek. "Selma! darling! angel! I'm thehappiest man alive. "

"You mustn't do that--yet, " she said protestingly. 

"Yes, I must; I'm yours, and you're mine, --mine. Aren't you, sweetheart?There's no harm in a kiss. "

She had to admit to herself that it was not very unpleasant after all tobe held in the embrace of a sturdy lover, though she had never intendedthat their relations should reach this stage of familiarity so promptly. She had known, of course, that girls were to look for endearments fromthose whom they promised to marry, but her person had hitherto been sosacred to man and to herself that it was difficult not to shrink alittle from what was taking place. This then was love, and love was, ofcourse, the sweetest thing in the world. That was one of the truthswhich she had accepted as she had accepted the beauty of Shakespeare, assomething not to be disputed, yet remote. He was a big, affectionatefellow, and she must make up her mind to kiss him. So she turned herface toward him and their lips met eagerly, forestalling the little peckwhich she had intended. She let her head fall back at his pressure on tohis shoulder, and gazed up at the moon. 

"Are you happy, Selma?" he asked, giving her a fond, firm squeeze. 

"Yes, Lewis. "

She could feel his frame throb with joy at the situation as she utteredhis name. 

"We'll be married right away. That's if you're willing. My business isgoing first-rate and, if it keeps growing for the next year as it hasfor the past two, you'll be rich presently. When shall it be, Selma?"

"You're in dreadful haste. Well, I'll promise to give the selectmennotice to-morrow that they must find another teacher. "

"Because the one they have now is going to become Mrs. Lewis J. Babcock. I'm the luckiest fellow, hooray! in creation. See here, " he added, taking her hand, "I guess a ring wouldn't look badly there--a realdiamond, too. Pretty little fingers. "

She sighed gently, by way of response. It was comfortable nestling inthe hollow of his shoulder, and a new delightful experience to behectored with sweetness in this way. How round and bountiful the moonlooked. She was tired of her present life. What was coming would bebetter. Her opportunity was at hand to show the world what she was madeof. 

"A real diamond, and large at that, " he repeated, gazing down at her, and then, as though the far away expression in her eyes suggestedkinship with the unseen and the eternal, he said, admiringly but humbly, "It must be grand to be clever like you, Selma. I'm no good at that. Butif loving you will make up for it, I'll go far, little woman. "

"What I know of that I like, and--and if some day, I can make you proudof me, so much the better, " said Selma. 

"Proud of you? You are an angel, and you know it. "

She closed her eyes and sighed again. Even the bright avenues of fame, which her keen eyes had traversed through the golden moon, paled beforethis tribute from the lips of real flesh and blood. What woman canwithstand the fascination of a lover's faith that she is an angel? If aman is fool enough to believe it, why undeceive him? And if he is sosure of it, may it even not be so? Selma was content to have it so, especially as the assertion did not jar with her own prepossessions; andthus they rode home in the summer night in the mutual contentment of abetrothal. 

CHAPTER II. 

The match was thoroughly agreeable to Mrs. Farley, Selma's aunt andnearest relation, who with her husband presided over a flourishingpoultry farm in Wilton. She was an easy-going, friendly spirit, with asharp but not wide vision, who did not believe that a likelier fellowthan Lewis Babcock would come wooing were her niece to wait a lifetime. He was hearty, comical, and generous, and was said to be making moneyfast in the varnish business. In short, he seemed to her an admirableyoung man, with a stock of common-sense and high spirits eminentlyserviceable for a domestic venture. How full of fun he was, to be sure!It did her good to behold the tribute his appetite paid to the buckwheatcakes with cream and other tempting viands she set before him--apleasing contrast to Selma's starveling diet--and the hearty smack withwhich he enforced his demands upon her own cheeks as his mother-in-lawapparent, argued an affectionate disposition. Burly, rosy-cheeked, good-natured, was he not the very man to dispel her niece's vagaries andturn the girl's morbid cleverness into healthy channels?

Selma, therefore, found nothing but encouragement in her choice at home;so by the end of another three months they were made man and wife, andhad moved into that little house in Benham which had attracted Babcock'seye. Benham, as has been indicated, was in the throes of bustle andself-improvement. Before the war it had been essentially unimportant. But the building of a railroad through the town and the discovery of oilwells in its neighborhood had transformed it in a twinkling into anactive and spirited centre. Selma's new house was on the edge of thecity, in the van of real estate progress, one of a row of small butambitious-looking dwellings, over the dark yellow clapboards of whichthe architect had let his imagination run rampant in scrolls andflourishes. There was fancy colored glass in a sort of rose-window overthe front door, and lozenges of fancy glass here and there in thefacade. Each house had a little grass-plot, which Babcock in his casehad made appurtenant to a metal stag, which seemed to him the finishingtouch to a cosey and ornamental home. He had done his best and with allhis heart, and the future was before them. 

Babcock found himself radiant over the first experiences of marriedlife. It was just what he had hoped, only better. His imagination inentertaining an angel had not been unduly literal, and it was a constantdelight and source of congratulation to him to reflect over his pipe onthe lounge after supper that the charming piece of flesh and bloodsewing or reading demurely close by was the divinity of his domestichearth. There she was to smile at him when he came home at night andenable him to forget the cares and dross of the varnish business. Herpresence across the table added a new zest to every meal and improvedhis appetite. In marrying he had expected to cut loose from his bachelorhabits, and he asked for nothing better than to spend every eveningalone with Selma, varied by an occasional evening at the theatre, and adrive out to the Farleys' now and then for supper. This, with theregular Sunday service at Rev. Henry Glynn's church, rounded out theweeks to his perfect satisfaction. He was conscious of feeling that thesituation did not admit of improvement, for though, when he measuredhimself with Selma, Babcock was humble-minded, a cheerful and uncriticaloptimism was the ruling characteristic of his temperament. With health, business fortune, and love all on his side, it was natural to him toregard his lot with complacency. Especially as to all appearances, thiswas the sort of thing Selma liked, also. Presently, perhaps, there wouldbe a baby, and then their cup of domestic happiness would beoverflowing. Babcock's long ungratified yearning for the things of thespirit were fully met by these cosey evenings, which he would have beenglad to continue to the crack of doom. To smoke and sprawl and read alittle, and exchange chit-chat, was poetry enough for him. So contentedwas he that his joy was apt to find an outlet in ditties andwhistling--he possessed a slightly tuneful, rollicking knack at both--aproceeding which commonly culminated in his causing Selma to sit besidehim on the sofa and be made much of, to the detriment of her toilette. 

As for the bride, so dazing were the circumstances incident to thedouble change of matrimony and adaptation to city life, that herjudgment was in suspension. Yet though she smiled and sewed demurely, she was thinking. The yellow clapboarded house and metal stag, and amaid-of-all-work at her beck and call, were gratifying at the outset andmade demands upon her energies. Selma's position in her father's househad been chiefly ornamental and social. She had been his companion andnurse, had read to him and argued with him, but the mere household workhad been performed by an elderly female relative who recognized that hermind was bent on higher things. Nevertheless, she had never doubted thatwhen the time arrived to show her capacity as a housewife, she would bemore than equal to the emergency. Assuredly she would, for one of thedistinguishing traits of American womanhood was the ability to performadmirably with one's own hand many menial duties and yet be prepared toshine socially with the best. Still the experience was not quite so easyas she expected; even harassing and mortifying. Fortunately, Lewis wasmore particular about quantity than quality where the table wasconcerned; and, after all, food and domestic details were secondaryconsiderations in a noble outlook. It would have suited her never to beobliged to eat, and to be able to leave the care of the house to thehired girl; but that being out of the question, it became incumbent onher to make those obligations as simple as possible. However, thepossession of a new house and gay fittings was an agreeable realization. At home everything had been upholstered in black horse-hair, and regardfor material appearances had been obscured for her by the tension of herintrospective tendencies. Lewis was very kind, and she had no reason toreproach herself as yet for her choice. He had insisted that she shouldprovide herself with an ample and more stylish wardrobe, and though theinvitation had interested her but mildly, the effect of shrewdly-madeand neatly fitting garments on her figure had been a revelation. Likethe touch of a man's hand, fine raiment had seemed to her hithertoalmost repellant, but it was obvious now that anything which enhancedher effectiveness could not be dismissed as valueless. To arrive atdefinite conclusions in regard to her social surroundings was less easyfor Selma. Benham, in its rapid growth, had got beyond the levelsimplicity of Westfield and Wilton, and was already confronted by thestern realities which baffle the original ideal in every American city. We like as a nation to cherish the illusion that extremes of socialcondition do not exist even in our large communities, and that theplutocrat and the saleslady, the learned professions and the proletariatassociate on a common basis of equal virtue, intelligence, and culture. And yet, although Benham was a comparatively young and an essentiallyAmerican city, there were very marked differences in all these respectsin its community. 

Topographically speaking the starting point of Benham was itswater-course. Twenty years before the war Benham was merely a cluster offrame houses in the valley of the limpid, peaceful river Nye. At thattime the inhabitants drank of the Nye taken at a point below the town, for there was a high fall which would have made the drawing of waterabove less convenient. This they were doing when Selma came to Benham, although every man's hand had been raised against the Nye, which was thenearest, and hence for a community in hot haste, the most naturalreceptacle for dyestuffs, ashes and all the outflow from woollen mills, pork factories and oil yards, and it ran the color of glistening beansoup. From time to time, as the city grew, the drawing point had beenmade a little lower where the stream had regained a portion of itslimpidity, and no one but wiseacres and busybodies questioned itswholesomeness. Benham at that time was too preoccupied and too proud ofits increasing greatness to mistrust its own judgment in mattershygienic, artistic, and educational. There came a day later when theriver rose against the city, and an epidemic of typhoid fever convinceda reluctant community that there were some things which free-bornAmericans did not know intuitively. Then there were public meetings anda general indignation movement, and presently, under the guidance ofcompetent experts, Lake Mohunk, seven miles to the north, was secured asa reservoir. Just to show how the temper of the times has changed, andhow sophisticated in regard to hygienic matters some of the goodcitizens of Benham in these latter days have become, it is worthy ofmention that, though competent chemists declare Lake Mohunk to be freefrom contamination, there are those now who use so-called mineralspring-waters in preference; notably Miss Flagg, the daughter of oldJoel Flagg, once the miller and, at the date when the Babcocks set uptheir household gods, one of the oil magnates of Benham. He drank thebean colored Nye to the day of his death and died at eighty; but shecarries a carboy of spring-water with her personal baggage wherever shetravels, and is perpetually solicitous in regard to the presence ofarsenic in wall-papers into the bargain. 

Verily, the world has wagged apace in Benham since Selma first lookedout at her metal stag and the surrounding landscape. Ten years later theBenham Home Beautifying Society took in hand the Nye and those whodrained into it, and by means of garbage consumers, disinfectants, andfilters and judiciously arranged shrubbery converted its channel andbanks into quite a respectable citizens' paradise. But even at that timethe industries on either bank of the Nye, which flowed from east towest, were forcing the retail shops and the residences further andfurther away. To illustrate again from the Flagg family, just before thewar Joel Flagg built a modest house less than a quarter of a mile fromthe southerly bank of the river, expecting to end his days there, andwas accused by contemporary censors of an intention to seclude himselfin magnificent isolation. About this time he had yielded to the plea ofhis family, that every other building in the street had been given overto trade, and that they were stranded in a social Sahara of factories. So like the easy going yet soaring soul that he was, he had moved outtwo miles to what was known as the River Drive, where the Nyeaccomplishes a broad sweep to the south. There an ambitious importedarchitect, glad of such an opportunity to speculate in artistic effects, had built for him a conglomeration of a feudal castle and an oldcolonial mansion in all the grisly bulk of signal failure. 

Considering our ideals, it is a wonder that no one has provided a lawforbidding the erection of all the architecturally attractive, orsumptuous houses in one neighborhood. It ought not to be possible in arepublic for such a state of affairs to exist as existed in Benham. Thatis to say all the wealth and fashion of the city lay to the west ofCentral Avenue, which was so literally the dividing line that if aBenhamite were referred to as living on that street the conventionalinquiry would be "On which side?" And if the answer were "On the east, "the inquirer would be apt to say "Oh!" with a cold inflection whichsuggested a ban. No Benhamite has ever been able to explain preciselywhy it should be more creditable to live on one side of the same streetthan on the other, but I have been told by clever women, who were goodAmericans besides, that this is one of the subtle truths which bafflethe Gods and democracies alike. Central Avenue has long ago beenappropriated by the leading retail dry-goods shops, huge establishmentswhere everything from a set of drawing-room furniture to a hair-pin canbe bought under a single roof; but at that time it was the socialartery. Everything to the west was new and assertive; then came theshops and the business centre; and to the east were Tom, Dick, andHarry, Michael, Isaac and Pietro, the army of citizens who worked in themills, oil yards, and pork factories. And to the north, across theriver, on the further side of more manufacturing establishments, wasPoland, so-called--a settlement of the Poles--to reach whom now thereare seven bridges of iron. There were but two bridges then, one of wood, and journeys across them had not yet been revealed to philanthropicyoung women eager to do good. 

Selma's house lay well to the south-west of Central Avenue, far enoughremoved from the River Drive and the Flagg mansion to be humble and yetnear enough to be called looking up. Their row was complete and mainlyoccupied, but the locality was a-building, and in the process of makingacquaintance. So many strangers had come to Benham that even Babcockknew but few of their neighbors. Without formulating definitely how itwas to happen, Selma had expected to be received with open arms into asociety eager to recognize her salient qualities. But apparently, atfirst glance, everybody's interest was absorbed by the butcher andgrocer, the dressmaker and the domestic hearth. That is, the otherpeople in their row seemed to be content to do as they were doing. Thehusbands went to town every day--town which lay in the murkydistance--and their wives were friendly enough, but did not seem to beconscious either of voids in their own existence or of the privilege ofher society. To be sure, they dressed well and were suggestive in that, but they looked blank at some of her inquiries, and appeared to feeltheir days complete if, after the housework had been done and the battlefought with the hired girl, they were able to visit the shoppingdistrict and pore over fabrics, in case they could not buy them. Somewere evidently looking forward to the day when they might be sofortunate as to possess one of the larger houses of the district a mileaway, and figure among what they termed "society people. " There wereothers who, in their satisfaction with this course of life, referredwith a touch of self-righteousness to the dwellers on the River Drive asdeserving reprobation on account of a lack of serious purpose. Thiscriticism appealed to Selma, and consoled her in a measure for the halfmortification with which she had begun to realize that she was not of somuch account as she had expected; at least, that there were people notvery far distant from her block who were different somehow from herneighbors, and who took part in social proceedings in which she and herhusband were not invited to participate. Manifestly they were unworthyand un-American. It was a comfort to come to this conclusion, eventhough her immediate surroundings, including the society of those whohad put the taunt into her thoughts, left her unsatisfied. 

Some relief was provided at last by her church. Babcock was by birth anEpiscopalian, though he had been lax in his interest during earlymanhood. This was one of the matters which he had expected marriage tocorrect, and he had taken up again, not merely with resignation butcomplacency, the custom of attending service regularly. Dr. White hadbeen a controversial Methodist, but since his wife's death, andespecially since the war, he had abstained from religious observances, and had argued himself somewhat far afield from the fold of orthodoxbelief. Consequently Selma, though she attended church at Westfield whenher father's ailments did not require her presence at home, had beenbrought up to exercise her faculties freely on problems of faith and tofeel herself a little more enlightened than the conventional worshipper. Still she was not averse to following her husband to the Rev. HenryGlynn's church. The experience was another revelation to her, forservice at Westfield had been eminently severe and unadorned. Mr. Glynnwas an Englishman; a short, stout, strenuous member of the Church ofEngland with a broad accent and a predilection for ritual, butenthusiastic and earnest. He had been tempted to cross the ocean by theopportunities for preaching the gospel to the heathen, and he had fixedon Benham as a vineyard where he could labor to advantage. His adventhad been a success. He had awakened interest by his fervor and by hismethods. The pew taken by Babcock was one of the last remaining, andthere was already talk of building a larger church to replace the chapelwhere he ministered. Choir boys, elaborate vestments, and genuflections, were novelties in the Protestant worship of Benham, and attracted theattention of many almost weary of plainer forms of worship, especiallyas these manifestations of color were effectively supplemented byevident sincerity of spirit on the part of their pastor. Nor were hisenergy and zeal confined to purely spiritual functions. The scope of hischurch work was practical and social. He had organized from thecongregation societies of various sorts to relieve the poor; Bibleclasses and evening reunions which the members of the parish were urgedto attend in order to become acquainted. Mr. Glynn's manner was bothhearty and pompous. To him there was no Church in the world but theChurch of England, and it was obvious that as one of the clergy of thatChurch he considered himself to be no mean man; but apart from thisserious intellectual foible with respect to his own relative importance, he was a stimulating Christian and citizen within his lights. Hisactive, crusading, and emotional temperament just suited the seethingpropensities of Benham. 

His flock comprised a few of the residents of the River Drive district, among them the Flaggs, but was a fairly representative mixture of allgrades of society, including the poorest. These last were specimensunder spiritual duress rather than free worshippers, and it was aconstant puzzle to the reverend gentleman why, in the matter ofattendance, they, metaphorically speaking, sickened and died. It hadnever been so in England. "Bonnets!" responded one day Mrs. HallettTaylor, who had become Mr. Glynn's leading ally in parish matters, andwas noted for her executive ability. She was an engaging butclear-headed soul who went straight to the point. 

"I do not fathom your meaning, " said the pastor, a little loftily, forthe suggestion sounded flippant. 

"It hurts their feelings to go to a church where their clothes areshabby compared with those of the rest of the congregation. "

"Yes, but in God's chapel, dear lady, all such distinctions should beforgotten. "

"They can't forget, and I don't blame them much, poor things, do you?It's the free-born American spirit. There now, Mr. Glynn, you wereasking me yesterday to suggest some one for junior warden. Why not Mr. Babcock? They're new comers and seem available people. "

Mr. Glynn's distress at her first question was merged in the interestinspired by her second, for his glance had followed hers until it restedon the Babcocks, who had just entered the vestry to attend the socialreunion. Selma's face wore its worried archangel aspect. She was on hergood behavior and proudly on her guard against social impertinence. Butshe looked very pretty, and her compact, slight figure indicated a busyway. 

"I will interrogate him, " he answered. "I have observed them before, and--and I can't quite make out the wife. It is almost a spiritual face, and yet--"

"Just a little hard and keen, " broke in Mrs. Taylor, upon hishesitation. "She is pretty, and she looks clever. I think we can getsome work out of her. "

Thereupon she sailed gracefully in the direction of Selma. Mrs. Taylorwas from Maryland. Her husband, a physician, had come to Benham at theclose of the war to build up a practice, and his wife had aided him byher energy and graciousness to make friends. Unlike some Southerners, she was not indolent, and yet she possessed all the ingratiating, spontaneous charm of well-bred women from that section of the country. Her tastes were æsthetic and ethical rather than intellectual, and herspecial interest at the moment was the welfare of the church. Shethought it desirable that all the elements of which the congregation wascomposed should be represented on the committees, and Selma seemed toher the most obviously available person from the class to which theBabcocks belonged. 

"I want you to help us, " she said. "I think you have ideas. We need awoman with sense and ideas on our committee to build the new church. "

Selma was not used to easy grace and sprightly spontaneity. It affectedher at first much as the touch of man; but just as in that instance theexperience was agreeable. Life was too serious a thing in her regard tolend itself casually to lightness, and yet she felt instinctivelyattracted by this lack of self-consciousness and self-restraint. Besideshere was an opportunity such as she had been yearning for. She had metMrs. Taylor before, and knew her to be the presiding genius of thecongregation; and it was evident that Mrs. Taylor had discovered hervalue. 

"Thank you, " she said, gravely, but cordially. "That is what I shouldlike. I wish to be of use. I shall be pleased to serve on thecommittee. "

"It will be interesting, I think. I have never helped build anythingbefore. Perhaps you have?"

"No, " said Selma slowly. Her tone conveyed the impression that, thoughher abilities had never been put to that precise test, the employmentseemed easily within her capacity. 

"Ah! I am sure you will be suggestive" said Mrs. Taylor. "I am rightanxious that it shall be a credit in an architectural way, you know. "

Mr. Glynn, who had followed with more measured tread, now mingled hishearty bass voice in the conversation. His mental attitude was friendly, but inquisitorial; as seemed to him to befit one charged with the cureof souls. He proceeded to ask questions, beginning with inquiriesconventional and domestic, but verging presently on points of faith. Babcock, to whom they were directly addressed, stood the ordeal well, revealing himself as flattered, contrite, and zealous to avail himselfof the blessings of the church. He admitted that lately he had been laxin his spiritual duties. 

"We come every Sunday now, " he said buoyantly, with a glance at Selma asthough to indicate that she deserved the credit of his reformation. 

"The holy sacrament of marriage has led many souls from darkness intolight, from the flesh-pots of Egypt to the table of the Lord" Mr. Glynnanswered. "And you, my daughter, " he added, meaningly, "guard well youradvantage. "

It was agreeable to Selma that the clergymen seemed to appreciate hersuperiority to her embarrassed husband, especially as she thought sheknew that in England women were not expected to have opinions of theirown. She wished to say something to impress him more distinctly with hercleverness, for though she was secretly contemptuous of his ceremonials, there was something impressive in his mandatory zeal. She came nearasking whether he held to the belief that it was wrong for a man tomarry his deceased wife's sister, which was the only proposition inrelation to the married state which occurred to her at the moment aslikely to show her independence, but she contented herself instead withsaying, with so much of Mrs. Taylor's spontaneity as she could reproducewithout practice, "We expect to be very happy in your church. "

Selma, however, supplemented her words with her tense spiritual look. She felt happier than she had for weeks, inasmuch as life seemed to beopening before her. For a few moments she listened to Mr. Glynn unfoldhis hopes in regard to the new church, trying to make him feel that shewas no common woman. She considered it a tribute to her when he tookLewis aside later and asked him to become a junior warden. 

CHAPTER III. 

At this time the necessity for special knowledge as to artistic oreducational matters was recognized grudgingly in Benham. Any reputablecitizen was considered capable to pass judgment on statues and pictures, design a house or public building, and prescribe courses of study forschool-children. Since then the free-born Benhamite, little by little, through wise legislation or public opinion, born of bitter experience, has been robbed of these prerogatives until, not long ago, theun-American and undemocratic proposition to take away the laying out ofthe new city park from the easy going but ignorant mercies of theso-called city forester, who had been first a plumber and later analderman, prevailed. An enlightened civic spirit triumphed and specialknowledge was invoked. 

That was twenty-five years later. Mrs. Hallett Taylor had found herselfalmost single-handed at the outset in her purpose to build the newchurch on artistic lines. Or rather the case should be stated thus:Everyone agreed that it was to be the most beautiful church in thecountry, consistent with the money, and no one doubted that it would be, especially as everyone except Mrs. Taylor felt that in confiding thematter to the leading architect in Benham the committee would beexercising a wise and intelligent discretion. Mr. Pierce, the individualsuggested, had never, until recently, employed the word architect inspeaking of himself, and he pronounced it, as did some of the committee, "arshitect, " shying a little at the word, as though it were caviare andanything but American. He was a builder, practised by a brief butrushing career in erecting houses, banks, schools, and warehousesspeedily and boldly. He had been on the spot when the new growth ofBenham began, and his handiwork was writ large all over the city. Thecity was proud of him, and had, as it were, sniffed when Joel Flagg wentelsewhere for a man to build his new house. Surely, if it were necessaryto pay extra for that sort of thing, was not home talent good enough?Yet it must be confessed that the ugly splendor of the Flagg mediævalcastle had so far dazed the eye of Benham that its "arshitect" had feltconstrained, in order to keep up with the times, to try fancy flights ofhis own. He had silenced any doubting Thomases by his latest effort, anew school-house, rich in rampant angles and scrolls, on the brown-stonefront of which the name _Flagg School_ appeared in ambitious, distortedhieroglyphics. 

Think what a wealth of imagery in the tossing of the second O on top ofthe L. If artistic novelty and genius were sought for the new church, here it was ready to be invoked. Besides, Mr. Pierce was abrother-in-law of one of the members of the committee, and, though thecommittee had the fear of God in their hearts in the erection of hissanctuary, it was not easy to protest against the near relative of afellow member, especially one so competent. 

The committee numbered seven. Selma had been chosen to fill a vacancycaused by death, but at the time of her selection the matter was stillin embryo, and the question of an architect had not been mooted. At thenext meeting discussion arose as to whether Mr. Pierce should be giventhe job, under the eagle eyes of a sub-committee, or Mrs. Taylor'sproject of inviting competitive designs should be adopted. It was knownthat Mr. Glynn, without meaning disrespect to Mr. Pierce, favored thelatter plan as more progressive, a word always attractive to Benham earswhen they had time to listen. Its potency, coupled with veneration, forthe pastor's opinion, had secured the vote of Mr. Clyme, a banker. Another member of the committee, a lawyer, favored Mrs. Taylor's ideabecause of a grudge against Mr. Pierce. The chairman and brother-in-law, and a hard-headed stove dealer, were opposed to the competitive plan ashighfalutin and unnecessary. Thus the deciding vote lay with Selma. 

Now that they were on the same committee, Mrs. Taylor could notaltogether make her out. She remembered that Mr. Glynn had said the samething. Mrs. Taylor was accustomed to conquests. Without actualpremeditation, she was agreeably conscious of being able to convert andsweep most opponents off their feet by the force of her pleasantpersonality. In this case the effect was not so obvious. She wasconscious that Selma's eyes were constantly fixed upon her, but as towhat she was thinking Mrs. Taylor felt less certain. Clearly she wasmesmerized, but was the tribute admiration or hostility? Mrs. Taylor waspiqued, and put upon her metal. Besides she needed Selma's vote. Notbeing skilled in psychological analyses, she had to resort to practicalmethods, and invited her to afternoon tea. 

Selma had never been present at afternoon tea as a domestic function inher life. Nor had she seen a home like Mrs. Taylor's. The house was nolarger than her own, and had cost less. Medicine had not been solucrative as the manufacture of varnish. Externally the house displayedstern lines of unadorned brick--the custom-made style of Benham in thefirst throes of expansion before Mr. Pierce's imagination had beenstirred. Mr. Taylor had bought it as it stood, and his wife had made noattempt to alter the outside, which was, after all, inoffensivelyhomely. But the interior was bewildering to Selma's gaze in itssuggestion of cosey comfort. Pretty, tasteful things, many of theminexpensive knick-knacks of foreign origin--a small picture, a bit ofchina, a mediæval relic--were cleverly placed as a relief to theconventional furniture. Selma had been used to formalism in householdgarniture--to a best room little used and precise with the rigor of waxflowers and black horse-hair, and to a living room where the effectsought was purely utilitarian. Her new home, in spite of its coloredglass and iron stag, was arranged in much this fashion, as were thehouses of her neighbors which she had entered. 

Selma managed to seat herself on the one straight-backed chair in theroom. From this she was promptly driven by Mrs. Taylor and establishedin one corner of a lounge with a soft silk cushion behind her, andfurther propitiated by the proffer of a cup of tea in a dainty cup andsaucer. All this, including Mrs. Taylor's musical voice, easy speech, and ingratiating friendliness, alternately thrilled and irritated her. She would have liked to discard her hostess from her thought as a lightcreature unworthy of intellectual seriousness, but she found herselffascinated and even thawed in spite of herself. 

"I'm glad to have the opportunity really to talk to you, " said Mrs. Taylor. "At the church reunions one is so liable to interruptions. IfI'm not mistaken, you taught school before you were married?"

"For a short time. "

"That must have been interesting. It is so practical and definite. Mylife, " she added deprecatingly, "has been a thing of threads andpatches--a bit here and a bit there. "

She paused, but without forcing a response, proceeded blithely to touchon her past by way of illustration. The war had come just when she wasgrown up, and her kin in Maryland were divided on the issue. Her fatherhad taken his family abroad, but her heart was in the keeping of a youngofficer on the Northern side--now her husband. Loss of property andbitterness of spirit had kept her parents expatriated, and she, withthem, had journeyed from place to place in Europe. She had seen manybeautiful places and beautiful things. At last Major Taylor had come forher and carried her off as his bride to take up again her life as anAmerican. 

"I am interested in Benham, " she continued, "and I count on you, Mrs. Babcock, to help make the new church what it ought to beartistically--worthy of all the energy and independence there is in thisplace. "

Selma's eye kindled. The allusion to foreign lands had aroused herdistrust, but this patriotic avowal warmed her pulses. 

"Every one is so busy with private affairs here, owing to the rapidgrowth of the city, " pursued Mrs. Taylor, "that there is danger of ourdoing inconsiderately things which cannot easily be set right hereafter. An ugly or tawdry-looking building may be an eyesore for a generation. Iknow that we have honest and skilful mechanics in Benham, but astrustees of the church funds, shouldn't we at least make the effort toget the best talent there is? If we have the cleverest architect here, so much the better. An open competition will enable us to find out. After all Benham is only one city among many, and a very new city. Whyshouldn't we take advantage of the ideas of the rest of the country--theolder portion of the country?"

"Mr. Pierce built our house, and we think it very satisfactory andpretty. "

Selma's tone was firm, but she eyed her hostess narrowly. She had begunof late to distrust the æsthetic worth of the colored glass and metalstag, and, though she was on her guard against effrontery, she wished toknow the truth. She knew that Mr. Pierce, with fine business instinct, had already conveyed to her husband the promise that he should furnishthe varnish for the new church in case of his own selection, which, asBabcock had remarked, would be a nice thing all round. 

Mrs. Taylor underwent the scrutiny without flinching. "I have nothing tosay against Mr. Pierce. He is capable within his lights. Indeed I thinkit quite possible that we shall get nothing more satisfactory elsewhere. Mr. Flagg's grim pile is anything but encouraging. That may sound likean argument against my plan, but in the case of the Flagg house therewas no competition; merely unenlightened choice on the one side andignorant experimenting on the other. "

"You don't seem to think very highly of the appearance of Benham, " saidSelma. The remark was slightly interrogative, but was combative withal. She wished to know if everything, from the Flagg mansion down, was opento criticism, but she would fain question the authority of thecensor--this glib, graceful woman whose white, starched cuffs seemed tomake light of her own sober, unadorned wrists. 

This time Mrs. Taylor flushed faintly. She realized that their relationshad reached a critical point, and that the next step might be fatal. Sheput down her teacup, and leaning forward, said with smiling confidentialeagerness, "I don't. I wouldn't admit it to anyone else. But what's theuse of mincing matters with an intelligent woman like you? I might putyou off now, and declare that Benham is well enough. But you would soondivine what I really think, and that would be the end of confidencebetween us. I like honesty and frankness, and I can see that you do. Myopinion of Benham architecture is that it is slip-shod and mongrel. There! You see I put myself in your hands, but I do so because I feelsure you nearly agree with me already. You know it's so, but you hate toacknowledge it. "

Selma's eyes were bright with interest. She felt flattered by theappeal, and there was a righteous assurance in Mrs. Taylor's mannerwhich was convincing. She opened her mouth to say something--what shedid not quite know--but Mrs. Taylor raised her hand by way ofinterdiction. 

"Don't answer yet. Let me show you what I mean. I'm as proud of Benhamas anyone. I am absorbed by the place, I look to see it fifty yearshence--perhaps less--a great city, and a beautiful city too. Just atpresent everything is commercial and--and ethical; yes, ethical. We wishto do and dare, but we haven't time to adorn as we construct. That is, most of us haven't. But if a few determined spirits--women though theybe--cry 'halt, ' art may get a chance here and there to assert herself. Look at this, " she said, gliding across the room and holding up a smallvase of exquisite shape and coloring, "I picked it up on the other sideand it stands almost for a lost art. The hands and taste which wroughtit represent the transmitted patience and skill of hundreds of years. Welike to rush things through in a few weeks on a design hastily conceivedby a Mr. Pierce because we are so earnest. Now, we won't do it thistime, will we?"

"No, we won't, " said Selma. "I see what you mean. I was afraid at firstthat you didn't give us credit for the earnestness--for the ethicalpart. That's the first thing, the great thing according to my idea, andit's what distinguishes us from foreigners, --the foreigners who madethat vase, for instance. But I agree with you that there's such a thingas going too fast, and very likely some of the buildings here aren't allthey might be. We don't need to model them on foreign patterns, but wemust have them pretty and right. "

"Certainly, certainly, my dear. What we should strive for isoriginality--American originality; but soberly, slowly. Art is evolvedpainfully, little by little; it can't be bought ready-made at shops forthe asking like tea and sugar. If we invite designs for the new church, we shall give the youths of the country who have ideas seething in theirheads a chance to express themselves. Who knows but we may unearth agenius?"

"Who knows?" echoed Selma, with her spiritual look. "Yes, you are right, Mrs. Taylor. I will help you. As you say, there must be hundreds ofyoung men who would like to do just that sort of thing. I know myselfwhat it is to have lived in a small place without the opportunity toshow what one could do; to feel the capacity, but to be without themeans and occasion to reveal what is in one. And now that I understandwe really look at things the same way, I'm glad to join with you inmaking Benham beautiful. As you say, we women can do much if we onlywill. I've the greatest faith in woman's mission in this new, interesting nation of ours. Haven't you, Mrs. Taylor? Don't you believethat she, in her new sphere of usefulness, is one of the great movingforces of the Republic?" Selma was talking rapidly, and had lost everytrace of suspicious restraint. She spoke as one transfigured. 

"Yes, indeed, " answered Mrs. Taylor, checking any disposition she mayhave felt to interpose qualifications. She could acquiesce generallywithout violence to her convictions, and she could not afford to imperilthe safety of the immediate issue--her church. "I felt sure you wouldfeel so if you only had time to reflect, " she added. "If you vote withus, you will have the pleasant consciousness of knowing that you haveadvanced woman's cause just so much. "

"You may count on my vote. "

Selma stopped on her way home, although it was late, to purchase somewhite cuffs. As she approached, her husband stood on the grass-plot inhis shirt sleeves with a garden-hose. He was whistling, and when he sawher he kissed his hand at her jubilantly, "Well, sweetheart, where you been?"

"Visiting. Taking tea with Mrs. Taylor. I've promised her to vote toinvite bids for the church plans. "

Babcock looked surprised. "That'll throw Pierce out, won't it?"

"Not unless some one else submits a better design than he. "

Lewis scratched his head. "I considered that order for varnish as goodas booked. "

"I'm not sure Mr. Pierce knows as much as he thinks he does, " said Selmaoracularly. "We shall get plans from New York and Boston. If we don'tlike them we needn't take them. But that's the way to get an artisticthing. And we're going to have the most artistic church in Benham. I'msorry about the varnish, but a principle is involved. "

Babcock was puzzled but content. He cared far more for thedisappointment to Pierce than for the loss of the order. But apart fromthe business side of the question, he never doubted that his wife mustbe right, nor did he feel obliged to inquire what principle wasinvolved. He was pleased to have her associate with Mrs. Taylor, and wassatisfied that she would be a credit to him in any situation whereoccult questions of art or learning were mooted. He dropped his hose andpulled her down beside him on the porch settee. There was a beautifulsunset, and the atmosphere was soft and refreshing. Selma felt satisfiedwith herself. As Mrs. Taylor had said, it was her vote which would turnthe scale on behalf of progress. Other things, too, were in her mind. She was not ready to admit that she had been instructed, but she wasalready planning changes in her own domestic interior, suggested by whatshe had seen. 

She let her husband squeeze her hand, but her thoughts were wanderingfrom his blandishments. Presently she said: "Lewis, I've begun lately todoubt if that stag is really pretty. "

"The stag? Well, now, I've always thought it tasty--one of the featuresof our little place. "

"No one would mistake it for a real deer. It looks to me almostcomical. "

Babcock turned to regard judicially the object of her criticism. 

"I like it, " he said somewhat mournfully, as though he were puzzled. "But if you don't, we'll change the stag for something else. I wish youto be pleased first of all. Instead we might have a fountain; twochildren under an umbrella I saw the other day. It was cute. How doesthat strike you?"

"I can't tell without seeing it. And, Lewis, promise me that you won'tselect anything new of that sort until I have looked at it. "

"Very well, " Babcock answered submissively. But he continued to lookpuzzled. In his estimate of his wife's superiority to himself in thesubtleties of life, it had never occurred to him to include the choiceof every-day objects of art. He had eyes and could judge for himselflike any other American citizen. Still, he was only too glad to humorSelma in such an unimportant matter, especially as he was eager for herhappiness. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Seven designs for the new church were submitted, including three fromBenham architects. The leaven of influence exercised by spirits likeMrs. Taylor was only just beginning to work, and the now common customof competing outside one's own bailiwick was still in embryo. Mr. Pierce's design was bold and sumptuous. His brother-in-law statedoracularly not long before the day when the plans were to be opened:"Pierce is not a man to be frightened out of a job by frills. Mark mywords; he will give us an elegant thing. " Mr. Pierce had conceived thehappy thought of combining a Moorish mosque and New Englandmeeting-house in a conservative and equitable medley, evidently hopingthereby to be both picturesque and traditional. The result, even onpaper, was too bold for some of his admirers. The chairman was heard toremark: "I shouldn't feel as though I was in church. That dome set amongspires is close to making a theatre of the house of God. "

The discomfiture of the first architect of Benham cleared the way forthe triumph of Mrs. Taylor's taste. The design submitted by WilburLittleton of New York, seemed to her decidedly the most meritorious. Itwas graceful, appropriate, and artistic; entirely in harmony withreligious associations, yet agreeably different from every daysanctuaries. The choice lay between his and that presented by Mr. Cass, a Benham builder--a matter-of-fact, serviceable, but very conventionaledifice. The hard-headed stove dealer on the committee declared in favorof the native design, as simpler and more solid. 

"It'll be a massive structure" he said, "and when it's finished no onewill have to ask what it is. It'll speak for itself. Mr. Cass is a solidbusiness man, and we know what we'll get. The other plan is what I calldandified. "

It was evident to the committee that the stove dealer's final criticismcomprehended the architect as well as his design. Severalcompetitors--Littleton among them--had come in person to explain themerits of their respective drawings, and by the side of solid, red-bearded, undecorative Mr. Cass, Littleton may well have seemed adandy. He was a slim young man with a delicate, sensitive face andintelligent brown eyes. He looked eager and interesting. In his case thealmost gaunt American physiognomy was softened by a suggestion of poeticimpulses. Yet the heritage of nervous energy was apparent. Hisappearance conveyed the impression of quiet trigness and gentility. Hisfigure lent itself to his clothes, which were utterly inconspicuous, judged by metropolitan standards, but flawless in the face ofhard-headed theories of life, and aroused suspicion. He spoke in agentle but earnest manner, pointing out clearly, yet modestly, themerits of his composition. 

Selma had never seen a man just like him before, and she noticed thatfrom the outset his eyes seemed to be fastened on her as though hiswords were intended for her special benefit. She had never read thelines--indeed they had not been written--

"I think I could be happy with a gentleman like you. "

Nor did the precise sentiment contained in them shape itself in herthought. Yet she was suddenly conscious that she had been starving forlack of intellectual companionship, and that he was the sort of man shehad hoped to meet--the sort of man who could appreciate her and whom shecould appreciate. 

It did not become necessary for Selma to act as Mr. Littleton'schampion, for the stove dealer's criticism found only one supporter. TheNew Yorker's design for the church was so obviously pretty and suitablethat a majority of the Committee promptly declared in its favor. Thesuccessful competitor, who had remained a day to learn the result, wassolemnly informed of the decision, and then elaborately introduced tothe members. In shaking hands with him, Selma experienced a shade ofembarrassment. It was plain that his words to her, spoken with a lowbow--"I am very much gratified that my work pleases you" conveyed a morespiritual significance than was contained in his thanks to the others. Still he seemed more at his ease with Mrs. Taylor, who promptly brokethe ice of the situation by fixing him as a close relative of friends inBaltimore. Straightway he became sprightly and voluble, speaking ofthings and people beyond Selma's experience. This social jargonirritated Selma. It seemed to her a profanation of a noble character, yet she was annoyed because she could not understand. 

Mrs. Taylor, having discovered in Mr. Littleton one who should have beena friend long before, succeeded in carrying him off to dinner. Yet, before taking his leave, he came back to Selma for a few words. She hadoverheard Mrs. Taylor's invitation, and she asked herself why she toomight not become better acquainted with this young man whose attitudetoward her was that of respectful admiration. To have a strange youngman to dine off-hand struck her as novel. She had a general convictionthat it would seem to Lewis closely allied to light conduct, and thatonly foreigners or frivolous people let down to this extent the bars offamily life. Now that Mrs. Taylor had set her the example, she was lesscertain of the moral turpitude of such an act, but she concluded alsothat her husband would be in the way at table. What she desired was anopportunity for a long, interesting chat about high things. 

While she reflected, he was saying to her, "I understand that yourcommittee is to supervise my work until the new church is completed, soI shall hope to have the opportunity to meet you occasionally. It willbe necessary for me to make trips here from time to time to see thateverything is being done correctly by the mechanics. "

"Do you go away immediately?"

"It may be that I shall be detained by the arrangements which I mustmake here until day after to-morrow. "

"If you would really like to see me, I live at 25 Onslow Avenue. "

"Thank you very much. " Littleton took out a small memorandum book andcarefully noted the address. "Mrs. Babcock, 25 Onslow Avenue. I shallmake a point of calling to-morrow afternoon if I stay--and probably Ishall. "

He bowed and left Selma pleasantly stirred by the interview. His voicewas low and his enunciation sympathetically fluent. She said to herselfthat she would give him afternoon tea and they would compare ideastogether. She felt sure that his must be interesting. 

Later in the evening at Mrs. Taylor's, when there was a pause in theirsympathetic interchange of social and æsthetic convictions, Littletonsaid abruptly:

"Tell me something, please, about Mrs. Babcock. She has a suggestive aswell as a beautiful face, and it is easy to perceive that she isgenuinely American--not one of the women of whom we were speaking, whoseem to be ashamed of their own institutions, and who ape foreignmanners and customs. I fancy she would illustrate what I was saying justnow as to the vital importance of our clinging to our heritage ofindependent thought--of accepting the truth of the ancient order ofthings without allowing its lies and demerits to enslave us. "

"I suppose so, " said Mrs. Taylor. "She certainly does not belong to thedangerous class of whom you were speaking. I was flattering myself thatneither did I, for I was agreeing with all you said as to the need ofcherishing our native originality. Yet I must confess that now that youcompare me with her (the actual comparison is my own, but you instigatedit), I begin to feel more doubts about myself--that is if she is thetrue species, and I'm inclined to think she is. Pray excuse thisindirect method of answering your inquiry; it is in the nature of asoliloquy; it is an airing of thoughts and doubts which have beenharassing me for a fortnight--ever since I knew Mrs. Babcock. Really, Mr. Littleton, I can tell you very little about her. She is a new-comeron the horizon of Benham; she has been married very recently; I believeshe has taught school and that she was brought up not far from here. Sheis as proud as Lucifer and sometimes as beautiful; she is profoundlyserious and--and apparently very ignorant. I fancy she is clever andcapable in her way, but I admit she is an enigma to me and that I havenot solved it. I can see she does not approve of me altogether. Sheregards me with suspicion, and yet she threw the casting vote in favorof my proposal to open the competition for the church to architects fromother places. I am trying to like her, for I wish to believe ineverything genuinely American if I can. There, I have told you all Iknow, and to a man she may seem altogether attractive and inspiring. "

"Thank you. I had no conception that I was broaching such a complexsubject. She sounds interesting, and my curiosity is whetted. You havenot mentioned the husband. "

"To be sure. A burly, easy-going manufacturer of varnish, without mucheducation, I should judge. He is manifestly her inferior in half a dozenways, but I understand that he is making money, and he looks kind. "

Wilbur Littleton's life since he had come to man's estate had been astruggle, and he was only just beginning to make headway. He had neverhad time to commiserate himself, for necessity on the one hand andyouthful ambition on the other had kept his energies tense and histhoughts sane and hopeful. He and his sister Pauline, a year his senior, had been left orphans while both were students by the death of theirfather on the battlefield. To persevere in their respective tastes andwork out their educations had been a labor of love, but an undertakingwhich demanded rigorous self-denial on the part of each. Wilbur haddetermined to become an architect. Pauline, early interested in thedogma that woman must no longer be barred from intellectualcompanionship with man, had sought to cultivate herself intelligentlywithout sacrificing her brother's domestic comfort. She had succeeded. Their home in New York, despite its small dimensions and frugalhospitality, was already a favorite resort of a little group ofprofessional people with busy brains and light purses. Wilbur was in thethroes of early progress. He had no relatives or influential friends togive him business, and employment came slowly. He had been an architecton his own account for two years, but was still obliged to supplementhis professional orders by work as a draughtsman for others. Yet hisenthusiasm kept him buoyant. In respect to his own work he wasscrupulous; indeed, a stern critic. He abhorred claptrap and speciouseffects, and aimed at high standards of artistic expression. This gavehim position among his brother architects, but was incompatible withmeteoric progress. His design for the church at Benham represented muchthought and hope, and he felt happy at his success. 

Littleton's familiarity with women, apart from his sister, had beenslight, but his thoughts regarding them were in keeping with a poeticand aspiring nature. He hoped to marry some day, and he was fond ofpicturing to himself in moments of reverie the sort of woman to whom hisheart would be given. In the shrine of his secret fancy she appearedprimarily as an object of reverence, a white-souled angel of light cladin the graceful outlines of flesh, an Amazon and yet a winsome, tenderspirit, and above all a being imbued with the stimulating intellectualindependence he had been taught to associate with American womanhood. She would be the loving wife of his bosom and the intelligent sharer ofhis thoughts and aspirations--often their guide. So pure and exactingwas his ideal that while alive to the value of coyness and coquetry aselements of feminine attraction for others, Wilbur had chosen to regardthe maiden of his faith as too serious a spirit to condescend to suchvanities; and from a similar vein of appreciation he was prone to thinkof her as unadorned, or rather untarnished, by the gewgaws offashionable dressmaking and millinery. His first sight of Selma had madehim conscious that here was a face not unlike what he had hoped toencounter some day, and he had instinctively felt her to be sympathetic. He was even conscious of disappointment when he heard her addressed asMrs. Babcock. Evidently she was a free-born soul, unhampered by thesocial weaknesses of a large city, and illumined by the spiritual graceof native womanliness. So he thought of her, and Mrs. Taylor's diagnosisrather confirmed than impaired his impression, for in Mrs. Taylor Wilburfelt he discerned a trace of antagonism born of cosmopolitanprejudice--an inability to value at its true worth a nature not mouldedon conventional lines. Rigorous as he was in his judgments, and eager todisown what was cheap or shallow, mere conventionalism, whether in artor daily life, was no less abhorrent to him. Here, he said to himself, was an original soul, ignorant and unenlightened perhaps, but endowedwith swift perception and capable of noble development. 

The appearance of Selma's scroll and glass bedizened house did notaffect this impression. Wilbur was first of all appreciatively anAmerican. That is he recognized that native energy had hitherto beenexpended on the things of the spirit to the neglect of things material. As an artist he was supremely interested in awakening and guiding thenational taste in respect to art, but at the same time he was thoroughlyaware that the peculiar vigor and independence of character which heknew as Americanism was often utterly indifferent to, or ignorant of, the value of æsthetics. After all, art was a secondary consideration, whereas the inward vision which absorbed the attention of the thoughtfulamong his countrymen and countrywomen was an absolute essential withoutwhich the soul must lose its fineness. He himself was seeking to showthat beauty, in external material expression, was not merely consistentwith strong ideals but requisite to their fit presentment. He recognizedtoo that the various and variegated departures from the monotonoushomely pattern of the every-day American house, which were evident ineach live town, were but so many indicators that the nation wasbeginning to realize the truth of this. His battle was with thedesigners and builders who were guiding falsely and flamboyantly, notwith the deceived victims, nor with those who were still satisfiedmerely to look inwardly, and ignored form and color. Hence he would havebeen able to behold the Babcocks' iron stag without rancor had theanimal still occupied the grass-plot. Selma, when she saw the figure ofher visitor in the door-way, congratulated herself that it had beenremoved. It would have pleased her to know that Mr. Littleton hadalready placed her in a niche above the level of mere grass-plotconsiderations. That was where she belonged of course; but she wasfearful on the score of suspected shortcomings. So it was gratifying tobe able to receive him in a smarter gown, to be wearing white cuffs, andto offer him tea with a touch of Mrs. Taylor's tormenting urbanity. Notso unreservedly as she. That would never do. It was and never would bein keeping with her own ideas of serious self-respect. Still a touch ofit was grateful to herself. She felt that it was a grace and enhancedher effectiveness. 

A few moments later Selma realized that for the first time since she hadlived in Benham she was being understood and appreciated. She felt toothat for the first time she was talking to a kindred spirit--to be sure, to one different, and more technically proficient in concrete knowledge, possibly more able, too, to express his thoughts in words, but eminentlya comrade and sympathizer. She was not obliged to say much. Nor were, indeed, his actual words the source of her realization. The revelationcame from what was left unsaid--from the silent recognition by him thatshe was worthy to share his best thoughts and was herself a seriousworker in the struggle of life. No graceful but galling attitude ofsuperiority, no polite indifference to her soul-hunger, no dispositionto criticise. And yet he was no less voluble, clever, and spirited thanMrs. Taylor. She listened with wrapt interest to his easy talk, whichwas ever grave in tone, despite his pleasant sallies. He spoke of Benhamwith quick appreciation of its bustling energy, and let her see that hedivined its capacity for greatness. This led him to refer with kindlingeyes to the keen impulse toward education and culture which wasanimating the younger men and women of the country; to the newbeginnings of art, literature, and scientific investigation. At scarcelya hint from her he told briefly of his past life and his hopes, andfondly mentioned his sister and her present absorption in some historycourses for women. 

"And you?" he said. "You are a student, too. Mrs. Taylor has told me, but I should have guessed it. Duties even more interesting claim younow, but it is easy to perceive that you have known that otherhappiness, 'To scorn delights and live laborious days. '"

His words sounded musical, though the quotation from Lycidas wasunfamiliar to her ears. Her brain was thrilling with the import of allhe had told her--with his allusions to the intellectual and ethicalmovements of Boston and New York, in which she felt herself by right andwith his recognition a partner and peer. 

"You were teaching school when you married, I believe?" he added. 

"Yes. "

"And before that, if I may ask?"

"I lived at Westfield with my father. It is a small country town, but wetried to be in earnest. "

"I understand--I understand. You grew up among the trees, and thebreezes and the brooks, those wonderful wordless teachers. I envy you, for they give one time to think--to expand. I have known only city lifemyself. It is stimulating, but one is so easily turned aside from one'sdirect purpose. Do you write at all?"

"Not yet. But I have wished to. Some day I shall. Just now I have toomany domestic concerns to--"

She did not finish, for Babcock's heavy tread and whistle resounded inthe hall and at the next moment he was calling "Selma!"

She felt annoyed at being interrupted, but she divined that it wouldnever do to show it. 

"My husband, " she said, and she raised her voice to utter with a sugareddignity which would have done credit to Mrs. Taylor, "I am in the parlor, Lewis. "

"Enter your chief domestic concern, " said Littleton blithely. "A happyhome is preferable to all the poems and novels in the world. "

Babcock, pushing open the door, which stood ajar, stopped short in hismelody. 

"This is Mr. Littleton, Lewis. The architect of our new church. "

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. " And by way of accounting for thesudden softening of his brow, Babcock added, "I set you down at first asone of those lightning-rod agents. There was one here last week whowouldn't take 'no' for an answer. "

"He has an advantage over me, " answered Littleton with a laugh. "In mybusiness a man can't solicit orders. He has to sit and wait for them tocome to him. "

"I want to know. My wife thinks a lot of your drawings for the newchurch. "

"I hope to make it a credit to your city. I've just been saying to yourwife, Mr. Babcock, that Benham has a fine future before it. The veryatmosphere seems charged with progress. "

Babcock beamed approvingly. "It's a driving place, sir. The man inBenham who stops by the way-side to scratch his head gets left behind. When we moved into this house a year ago looking through that window wewere at the jumping-off place; now you see houses cropping up in everydirection. It's going to be a big city. Pleased to have you stop tosupper with us, " he added with burly suavity as their visitor rose. 

Littleton excused himself and took his leave. Babcock escorted him tothe front door and full of his subject delayed him on the porch to touchonce more on the greatness of Benham. There was a clumsy method too inthis optimistic garrulity, for at the close he referred with some prideto his own business career, and made a tender of his business card, "Lewis Babcock & Company, Varnishes, " with a flourish. "If you doanything in my line, pleased to accommodate you. "

Littleton departing, tickled by a pleasant sense of humor, caughtthrough the parlor window a last glimpse of Selma's inspired face bowinggravely, yet wistfully, in acknowledgment of his lifted hat, and hestrode away under the spell of a brain picture which he transmuted intowords: "There's the sort of case where the cynical foreigner fails toappreciate the true import of our American life. That couple typifiesthe elements of greatness in our every-day people. At first blush thehusband's rough and material, but he's shrewd and enterprising andvigorous--the bread winner. He's enormously proud of her, and he hasreason to be, for she is a constant stimulus to higher things. Little bylittle, and without his knowing it, perhaps, she will smoothe andelevate him, and they will develop together, growing in intelligence andcultivation as they wax in worldly goods. After all, woman is our mostmarvellous native product--that sort of woman. Heigho!" Having givenvent to this sigh, Littleton proceeded to recognize the hopelessness ofthe personal situation by murmuring with a slightly forced access ofsprightliness

 "If she be not fair for me, What care I how fair she be?"

Still he intended to see more of Mrs. Babcock, and that withoutinfringing the tenth or any other commandment. To flirt with a marriedwoman savored to him of things un-American and unworthy, and Littletonhad much too healthy an imagination to rhapsodize from such astand-point. Yet he foresaw that they might be mutually respectingfriends. 

CHAPTER V. 

Selma knew intuitively that an American woman was able to cook a smoothcustard, write a poem and control real society with one and the samebrain and hand, and she was looking forward to the realization of theapotheosis; but, though she was aware that children are the naturalincrement of wedlock, she had put the idea from her ever since hermarriage as impersonal and vaguely disgusting. Consequently herconfinement came as an unwelcome interruption of her occupations andplans. 

Her connection with the committee for the new church had proved anintroduction to other interests, charitable and social. One day she wastaken by Mrs. Taylor to a meeting of the Benham Woman's Institute, aliterary club recently established by Mrs. Margaret Rodney Earle, aWestern newspaper woman who had made her home in Benham. Selma came inupon some twenty of her own sex in a hotel private parlor hired weeklyfor the uses of the Institute. Mrs. Earle, the president, a large floridwoman of fifty, with gray hair rising from the brow, fluent of speech, endowed with a public manner, a commanding bust and a vigorous, ingratiating smile, wielded a gavel at a little table and directed theexercises. A paper on Shakespeare's heroines was read and discussed. Selections on the piano followed. A thin woman in eye-glasses, theliterary editor of the _Benham Sentinel_, recited "Curfew must not ringto-night, " and a visitor from Wisconsin gave an exhibition in melodiouswhistling. In the intervals, tea, chocolate with whipped cream andlittle cakes were dispensed. 

Selma was absorbed and thrilled. What could be more to her taste thanthis? At the close of the whistling exercise, Mrs. Earle came over andspoke to her. They took a strong fancy to each other on the spot. Selmapreferred a person who would tell you everything about herself and towhom you could tell everything about yourself without preliminaries. People like Mrs. Taylor repressed her, but the motherly loquacity andcomprehension of Mrs. Earle drew her out and thawed at once and foreverthe ice of acquaintanceship. Before she quite realized the extent ofthis fascination she had promised to recite something, and as in adream, but with flushing cheeks, she heard the President rap the tableand announce "You will be gratified to hear that a talented friend whois with us has kindly consented to favor us with a recital. I have thehonor to introduce Mrs. Lewis Babcock. "

After the first flush of nervousness, Selma's grave dignity came to hersupport, and justified her completely in her own eyes. Her father hadbeen fond of verse, especially of verse imbued with moral melancholy, and at his suggestion she had learned and had been wont to repeat manyof the occasional pieces which he cut from the newspapers and collectedin a scrap-book. Her own preference among these was the poem, "O whyshould the spirit of mortal be proud?" which she had been told was agreat favorite of Abraham Lincoln. It was this piece which came into hermind when Mrs. Earle broached the subject, and this she proceeded todeliver with august precision. She spoke clearly and solemnly withoutthe trace of the giggling protestation which is so often incident tofeminine diffidence. She treated the opportunity with the seriousnessexpected, for though the Institute was not proof against light anddiverting contributions, as the whistling performance indicated, levityof spirit would have been out of place. 

 "'Tis a twink of the eye, 'tis a draught of the breath From the blossom of health to the paleness of death; From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud, O why should the spirit of mortal be proud?"

Selma enjoyed the harmony between the long, slow cadence of the metreand the important gravity of the theme. She rolled out the verses withthe intensity of a seer, and she looked a beautiful seer as well. Liberal applause greeted her as she sat down, though the clapping womanis apt to be a feeble instrument at best. Selma knew that she hadproduced an impression and she was moved by her own effectiveness. Shewas compelled to swallow once or twice to conceal the tears in her voicewhile listening to the congratulations of Mrs. Earle. The words whichshe had just recited were ringing through her brain and seemed to her toexpress the pitch at which her life was keyed. 

Selma was chosen a member of the Institute at the next meeting, andforthwith she became intimate with the president. Mrs. Margaret RodneyEarle was, as she herself phrased it, a live woman. She supportedherself by writing for the newspapers articles of a morally utilitariancharacter--for instance a winter's series, published every Saturday, "Hints on Health and Culture, " or again, "Receipts for the Parlor andthe Kitchen. " She also contributed poetry of a pensive cast, and chattyspecial correspondence flavored with personal allusion. She was one ofthe pioneers in modern society journalism, which at this time, however, was comparatively veiled and delicate in its methods. Besides, she was awoman of tireless energy, with theories on many subjects and an ardorfor organization. She advocated prohibition, the free suffrage of woman, the renunciation of corsets, and was interested in reforms relating tolabor, the pauper classes and the public schools. In behalf of any ofthese causes she was ready from time to time to dash off an article atshort notice or address an audience. But her dearest concern was thepromotion of woman's culture and the enlargement of woman's sphere ofusefulness through the club. The idea of the woman's club, which wastaking root over the country, had put in the shade for the time beingall her other plans, including the scheme of a society for making thegolden-rod the national flower. As the founder and president of theBenham Institute, she felt that she had found an avocation peculiarlyadapted to her capacities, and she was already actively incorrespondence with clubs of a similar character in other cities, in thehope of forming a national organization for mutual enlightenment andsupport. 

Mrs. Earle received Selma by invitation at her lodgings the followingday, and so quickly did their friendship ripen that at the end of twohours each had told the other everything. Selma was prone instinctivelyto regard as aristocratic and un-American any limitations to confidence. The evident disposition on the part of Mrs. Earle to expose promptly andwithout reserve the facts of her past and her plans for the futureseemed to Selma typical of an interesting character, and she wasthankful to make a clean breast in her turn as far as was possible. Mrs. Earle's domestic experience had been thorny. 

"I had a home once, too, " she said, "a happy home, I thought. My husbandsaid he loved me. But almost from the first we had trouble. It went onso from month to month, and finally we agreed to part. He objected, mydear, to my living my own life. He didn't like me to take an interest inthings outside the house--public matters. I was elected on theschool-board--the only woman--and he ought to have been proud. He saidhe was, at first, but he was too fond of declaring that a woman's placeis in her kitchen. One day I said to him, 'Ellery, this can't go on. Ifwe can't agree we'd better separate. A cat-and-dog life is no life atall. ' He answered back, 'I'm not asking you to leave me, but if you'reset on it don't let me hinder you, Margaret. You don't need a man tosupport you. You're as good as a man yourself. ' He meant that to besarcastic, I suppose. 'Yes, ' said I, 'thank God, I think I can take careof myself, even though I am a woman. ' That was the end of it. There wasno use for either of us to get excited. I packed my things, and a fewmornings later I said to him, 'Good-by, Ellery Earle: I wish you well, and I suppose you're my husband still, but I'm going to live my own lifewithout let or hindrance from any man. There's your ring. ' My holdingout the ring was startling to him, for he said, 'Aren't you going to besorry for this, Margaret?' 'No, ' said I, 'I've thought it all out, andit's best for both of us. There's your ring. ' He wouldn't take it, so Idropped it on the table and went out. Some people miss it, andmisbelieve I was ever married. That was close on to twenty years ago, and I've never seen him since. When the war broke out I heard heenlisted, but what's become of him I don't know. Maybe he got a divorce. I've kept right on and lived my own life in my own way, and never lackedfood or raiment. I'm forty-five years old, but I feel a young womanstill. "

Notwithstanding Mrs. Earle's business-like directness and theprotuberance of her bust in conclusion, by way of reasserting hersatisfaction with the results of her action, there was a touch ofplaintiveness in her confession which suggested the womanly author of"Hints on Culture and Hygiene, " rather than the man-hater. This was loston Selma, who was fain to sympathize purely from the stand-point ofrighteousness. 

"It was splendid, " she said. "He had no right to prevent you living yourown life. No husband has that right. "

Mrs. Earle brushed her eyes with her handkerchief. "You musn't think, mydear, that I'm not a believer in the home because mine has beenunhappy--because my husband didn't or couldn't understand. The true homeis the inspirer and nourisher of all that is best in life--in ourAmerican life; but men must learn the new lesson. There are manyhomes--yours, I'm sure--where the free-born American woman hasencouragement and the opportunity to expand. "

"Oh, yes. My husband lets me do as I wish. I made him promise before Iaccepted him that he wouldn't thwart me; that he'd let me live my ownlife. "

Selma was so appreciative of Mrs. Earle, and so energetic and suggestivein regard to the scope of the Institute, that she was presently chosen amember of the council, which was the body charged with the supervisionof the fortnightly entertainments. It occurred to her as a brilliantconception to have Littleton address the club on "Art, " and she broachedthe subject to him when he next returned to Benham and appeared beforethe church committee. He declared that he was too busy to prepare asuitable lecture, but he yielded finally to her plea that he owed it tohimself to let the women of Benham hear his views and opinions. 

"They are wives and they are mothers, " said Selma sententiously. "It wasa woman's vote, you remember, which elected you to build our church. Youowe it to Art; don't you think so?"

A logical appeal to his conscience was never lost on Littleton. Besideshe was glad to oblige Mrs. Babcock, who seemed so earnest in her desireto improve the æsthetic taste of Benham. Accordingly, he yielded. Thelecture was delivered a few weeks later and was a marked success, forLittleton's earnestness of theme and manner was relieved by a graceful, sympathetic delivery. Selma, whose social aplomb was increasing everyday, glided about the rooms with a contented mien receivingfelicitations and passing chocolate. She enjoyed the distinction ofbeing the God behind the curtain. 

A few days later the knowledge that she herself was to become a motherwas forced upon her attention, and was a little irksome. Of necessityher new interests would be interrupted. Though she did not question thatshe would perform maternal duties fitly and fully, they seemed to herless peculiarly adapted to her than concerns of the intellect and thespirit. However, the possession of a little daughter was more preciousto her than she had expected, and the consciousness that the tiny dollwhich lay upon her breast, was flesh of her flesh and bone of her boneaffected her agreeably and stirred her imagination. It should be reared, from the start, in the creed of soul independence and expansion, and sheherself would find a new and sacred duty in catering to the needs ofthis budding intelligence. So she reflected as she lay in bed, but theoutlook was a little marred by the thought that the baby was the livingimage of its father--broad-featured and burly--not altogether desirablecast of countenance for a girl. What a pity, when it might just as wellhave looked like her. 

Babcock, on his part, was transported by paternity. He was bubbling overwith appreciation of the new baby, and fondly believed it to be a humanwonder. He was solicitous on the score of its infantile ailments, andloaded it with gifts and toys beyond the scope of its enjoyment. He wentabout the house whistling more exuberantly than ever. There was no speckon his horizon; no fly in his pot of ointment. It was he who urged thatthe child should be christened promptly, though Dr. Glynn was notdisposed to dwell on the clerical barbarism as to the destiny ofunbaptized infants. Babcock was cultivating a conservative method: Herealized that there was no object in taking chances. Illogical as wasthe theory that a healthy dog which had bitten him should be killed atonce, lest it subsequently go mad and he contract hydrophobia, he wastoo happy and complacent to run the risk of letting it live. So it waswith regard to baby. But Selma chose the name. Babcock preferred in thisorder another Selma, Sophia, after his mother, or a compliment to thewife of the President of the United States. But Selma, as the result ofgrave thought, selected Muriel Grace. Without knowing exactly why, sheasked Mrs. Taylor to be godmother. The ceremony was solemn and inspiringto her. She knew from the glass in her room that she was looking verypretty. But she was weak and emotional. The baby behaved admirably, evenwhen Lewis, trembling with pride, held it out to Mr. Glynn for baptismand held it so that the blood rushed to its head. "I baptize thee in thename of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. " She was happy and thetears were in her eyes. The divine blessing was upon her and her house, and, after all, baby was a darling and her husband a kind, manly soul. With the help of heaven she would prove herself their good angel. 

When they returned home there was a whistle of old silver of light, graceful design, a present from Mrs. Taylor to Muriel. Her aunt, Mrs. Farley, compared this to its disparagement with one already purchased byLewis, on the gaudily embossed stem of which perched a squirrel with anut in its mouth. But Selma shook her head. "Both of you are wrong, " shesaid with authority. "This is a beauty. "

"It doesn't look new to my eyes, " protested Mrs. Parley. 

"Of course it isn't new. I shouldn't wonder if she bought it whiletravelling abroad in Europe. It's artistic, and--and I shan't let babydestroy it. "

Babcock glanced from one gift to the other quizzically. Then by way ofdisposing of the subject he seized his daughter in his arms and dandlingher toward the ceiling cried, "If it's artistic things we must have, this is the most artistic thing which I know of in the wide world. Aren't you, little sugar-plum?"

Mrs. Farley, with motherly distrust of man, apprehensively followed withher eyes and arms the gyrations of rise and fall; but Selma, though shesaw, pursued the current of her own thought which prompted her toexamine her wedding-ring. She was thinking that, compared with Mrs. Taylor's, it was a cart wheel--a clumsy, conspicuous band of metal, instead of a delicate hoop. She wondered if Lewis would object toexchange it for another. 

With the return of her strength, Selma took up again eagerly the tenorof her former life, aiding and abetting Mrs. Earle in the development ofthe Institute. The president was absorbed in enlarging its scope by theenrollment of more members, and the establishment of classes in avariety of topics--such as literature, science, philosophy, currentevents, history, art, and political economy. She aimed to construct aclub which should be social and educational in the broadest sense bymutual co-operation and energy. Selma, in her eagerness to make the mostof the opportunities for culture offered, committed herself to two ofthe new topic classes--"Italian and Grecian Art, " and "The Governmentsof Civilization, " and as a consequence found some difficulty inaccommodating her baby's nursing hours to these engagements. It wasindeed a relief to her when the doctor presently pronounced the supplyof her breast-milk inadequate. She was able to assuage Lewis' regretthat Muriel should be brought up by hand with the information that alarge percentage of Benham and American mothers were similarly barrenand that bottle babies were exceedingly healthy. She had gleaned thefirst fact from the physician, the second from Mrs. Earle, and her ownconclusion on the subject was that a lack of milk was an indication offeminine evolution from the status of the brute creation, a sign ofspiritual as opposed to animal quality. Selma found Mrs. Earlesympathetic on this point, and also practical in her suggestions as tothe rearing of infants by artificial means, recommendations concerningwhich were contained in one of her series of papers entitled "MotherLore. "

The theory of the new classes was co-operation. That is, the memberssuccessively, turn by turn, lectured on the topic, and all were expectedto study in the interim so as to be able to ask questions and discussthe views of the lecturer. Concerning both Italian and Grecian Art andthe Governments of Civilization, Selma knew that she had convictions inthe abstract, but when she found herself face to face with a specificlecture on each subject, it occurred to her as wise to supplement herideas by a little preparation. The nucleus of a public library had beenrecently established by Joel Flagg and placed at the disposal of Benham. Here, by means of an encyclopædia and two hand-books, Selma was able inthree forenoons to compile a paper satisfactory to her self-esteem onthe dynasties of Europe and their inferiority to the United States, buther other task was illumined for her by a happy incident, the promise ofLittleton to lend her books. Indeed he seemed delightfully interested inboth of her classes, which was especially gratifying in view of the factthat Mrs. Taylor, who was a member of the Institute, had combated thenew programme on the plea that they were attempting too much and that itwould encourage superficiality. But Littleton seemed appreciative of thevalue of the undertaking, and he made his promise good forthwith byforwarding to her a package of books on art, among them two volumes ofRuskin. Selma, who had read quotations from Ruskin on one or twooccasions and believed herself an admirer of, and tolerably familiarwith, his writings, was thrilled. She promptly immersed herself in"Stones of Venice" and "Seven Lamps of Architecture, " sitting up late atnight to finish them. When she had read these and the article in theencyclopædia under the head of Art, she felt bursting with her subjectand eager to air her knowledge before the class. Her lecture wasacknowledged to be the most stirring and thorough of the course. 

Reports of its success came back to her from Littleton, who offered toassist his pupil further by practical demonstration of the eternalarchitectural fitness and unfitness of things--especially the latter--inwalks through the streets of Benham. But six times in as many months, however. There was no suggestion of coquetry on either side in theseexcursions, yet each enjoyed them. Littleton's own work was beginning toassume definite form, and his visits to Benham became of necessity morefrequent; flying trips, but he generally managed to obtain a few wordswith Selma. He continued to lend her books, and he invited her criticismon the slowly growing church edifice. The responsibility of critic wasan absorbing sensation to her, but the stark glibness of tongue whichstood her in good stead before the classes of the Institute failed herin his presence--the presence of real knowledge. She wished to praise, but to praise discriminatingly, with the cant of æsthetic appreciation, so that he should believe that she knew. As for the church itself, shewas interested in it; it was fine, of course, but that was a secondaryconsideration compared with her emotions. His predilection in her favor, however, readily made him deaf in regard to her utterances. He scarcelyheeded her halting, solemn, counterfeit transcendentalisms; or ratherthey passed muster as subtle and genuine, so spell bound was he by theDelphic beauty of her criticising expression. It was enough for him towatch her as she stood with her head on one side and the worriedarchangel look transfiguring her profile. What she said was lost in hisreverie as to what she was--what she represented in his contemplation. As she looked upon his handiwork he was able to view it with differenteyes, to discern its weaknesses and to gain fresh inspiration from herpresence. He felt that it was growing on his hands and that he should beproud of it, and though, perhaps, he was conscious in his inner soulthat she was more to him than another man's wife should be, he knew too, that no word or look of his had offended against the absent husband. 

CHAPTER VI. 

By the end of another six months Littleton's work was practicallycompleted. Only the finishing touches to the interior decorationremained to be done. The members of Rev. Mr. Glynn's congregation, including Mrs. Hallett Taylor, were thoroughly satisfied with theappearance of the new church. It was attractive in its lines, yet it wassimple and, consequently, in keeping with the resources of the treasury. There was no large bill for extras to be audited, as possibly would havebeen the case had a hard-headed designer like Mr. Pierce been employed. The committee felt itself entitled to the congratulations of thecommunity. Nor was the community on the whole disposed to grumble, forhome talent had been employed by the architect; under rigoroussupervision, to be sure, so that poor material and slap-dash workmanshipwere out of the question. Still, payments had been prompt, and Benhamwas able to admire competent virtue. The church was a monument ofsuggestion in various ways, artistic and ethical, and it shone neatlywith Babcock varnish. 

One morning Selma set forth by agreement with Littleton, in order toinspect some fresco work. Muriel Grace was ailing slightly, but as shewould be home by mid-day, she bade the hired girl be watchful of baby, and kept her appointment. The child had grown dear to her, for Murielwas a charming little dot, and Selma had already begun to enjoy thematernal delight of human doll dressing, an extravagance in which shewas lavishly encouraged by her husband. Babcock was glad of any excuseto spend money on his daughter, who seemed to him, from day to day, agreater marvel of precocity--such a child as became Selma's beauty andcleverness and his own practical common-sense. 

Selma was in a pensive frame of mind this morning. Two days before shehad read a paper at the Institute on "Motherhood, " which had beenenthusiastically received. Mrs. Earle had printed a flattering itemconcerning it in the _Benham Sentinel_. It was agreeable to her to begoing to meet Littleton, for he was the most interesting masculinefigure in her life. She was sure of Lewis. He was her husband and sheknew herself to be the apple of his eye; but she knew exactly what hewas going to say before he said it, and much of what he said grated onher. She was almost equally sure of Littleton; that is of hisadmiration. His companionship was a constant pleasure to her. As amarried woman, and as a Christian and American woman, she desired nomore than this. But on the other hand, she would fain have this admiringcompanionship continue; and yet it could not. Littleton had told her theday before that he was going back to New York and that it was doubtfulif he would return. She would miss him. She would have the Institute andMrs. Earle still, but her life would be less full. 

Littleton was waiting for her at the church entrance. She followed himdown the nave to the chancel where she listened dreamily to hispresentation of the merits of the new decoration. He seemed inclined totalk, and from this presently branched off to describe with enthusiasmthe plates of a French book on interior architecture, which he hadrecently bought as a long-resisted but triumphant piece of extravagance. Mechanically, they turned from the chancel and slowly made the round ofthe aisles. A short silence succeeded his professional ardor. Hiscurrent of thought, in its reversion to home matters, had reminded himafresh of what was perpetually this morning uppermost in hisconsciousness--his coming departure. 

"Now, " he said, abruptly, "is the most favorable opportunity I shallhave, Mrs. Babcock, to tell you how much I am your debtor. I shan'tdespair of our meeting again, for the world is small, and good friendsare sure to meet sooner or later. But the past is secure to me at anyrate. If this church is in some measure what I have dreamed and wishedit to be, if my work with all its faults is a satisfaction to myself, Iwish you to know how much you have contributed to make it what it is. "

The words were as a melody in Selma's ears, and she listened greedily. Littleton paused, as one seriously moved will pause before giving thedetails of an important announcement. She, thinking he had finished, interjected with a touch of modesty, "I'm so glad. But my suggestionsand criticisms have not been what I meant them to be. It was all new tome, you know. "

"Oh, yes. It hasn't been so much what you have said in words which hashelped me, though that has been always intelligent and uplifting. I didnot look for technical knowledge. You do not possess that, of course. There are women in New York who would be able to confuse you with theirfamiliarity with these things. And yet it is by way of contrast withthose very women--fine women, too, in their way--that you have been mygood angel. There is no harm in saying that. I should be an ingrate, surely, if I would not let you know that your sane, simple outlook uponlife, your independent vision, has kept my brain clear and my soul free. I am a better artist and a better man for the experience. Good-by, andmay all happiness attend you. If once in a while you should find time towrite to a struggling architect named Littleton, he will be charmed todo your bidding--to send you books and to place his professionalknowledge at your service. Good-by. "

He held out his hand with frank effusion. He was obviously happy athaving given utterance to his sense of obligation. Selma was tinglingfrom head to foot and a womanly blush was on her cheek, though theserious seraph spoke in her words and eyes. She felt moved to a wave ofunreserved speech. 

"What you have said is very interesting to me. I wish to tell you howmuch I, too, have enjoyed our friendship. The first time we met I feltsure we should be sympathetic, and we have been, haven't we? One of thefine things about friendships between men and women in this country isthat they can really get to know each other without--er--harm to either. Isn't it? It's such a pleasure to know people really, and I feel as if Ihad known you, as if we had known each other really. I've never knownany man exactly in that way, and I have always wanted to. Except, ofcourse, my husband. And he's extremely different--that is, his tastesare not like yours. It's a happiness to me to feel that I have been ofassistance to you in your work, and you have been equally helpful to mein mine. As you say, I have never had the opportunity to learn thetechnical parts of art, and your books have instructed me as to that. Ihave never been in New York, but I understand what you meant about yourfriends, those other women. I suppose society people must be constantlydiverted from serious work--from the intellectual and spiritual life. Ohyes, we ought to write. Our friendship mustn't languish. We must leteach other know what we are thinking and doing. Good-by. "

As Selma walked along the street her heart was in her mouth. She feltpity for herself. To just the right person she would have confessed thediscovery that she had made a mistake and tied herself for life to thewrong man. It was not so much that she fancied Littleton whichdistressed her, for, indeed, she was but mildly conscious ofinfatuation. What disturbed her was the contrast between him andBabcock, which definite separation now forced upon her attention. Anindefinable impression that Littleton might think less of her if shewere to state this soul truth had restrained her at the last moment fromdisclosing the secret. Not for an instant did she entertain the idea ofbeing false to Lewis. Her confession would have been but a dissertationon the inexorable irony of fate, calling only for sympathy, and in noway derogating from her dignity and self-respect as a wife. Still, shehad restrained herself, and stopped just short of the confidence. He wasgone, and she would probably not see him again for years. That wasendurable. Indeed, a recognition of the contrary would not have seemedto her consistent with wifely virtue. What brought the tears to her eyeswas the vision of continued wedlock, until death intervened, with ahusband who could not understand. Could she bear this? Must she endureit? There was but one answer: She must. At the thought she bit her lipwith the intensity and sternness of a martyr. She would be faithful toher marriage vows, but she would not let Lewis's low aims interfere withthe free development of her own life. 

It was after noon when she reached home. She was met at the door by thehired girl with the worried ejaculation that baby was choking. Thedoctor was hastily summoned. He at once pronounced that Muriel Grace hadmembranous croup, and was desperately ill. Remedies of various sortswere tried, and a consulting physician called, but when Babcock returnedfrom his office her condition was evidently hopeless. The child died inthe early night. Selma was relieved to hear the doctor tell her husbandthat it was a malignant case from the first, and that nothing could haveaverted the result. In response to questions from Lewis, however, shewas obliged to admit that she had not been at home when the acutesymptoms appeared. This afforded Babcock an outlet for his suffering. Hespoke to her roughly for the first time in his life, bitterly suggestingneglect on her part. 

"You knew she wasn't all right this morning, yet you had to gofiddle-faddling with that architect instead of staying at home where youbelonged. And now she's dead. My little girl, my little girl!" And thebig man burst out sobbing. 

Selma grew deadly pale. No one had ever spoken to her like that beforein her life. To the horror of her grief was added the consciousness thatshe was being unjustly dealt with. Lewis had heard the doctor'sstatement, and yet he dared address her in such terms. As if the loss ofthe child did not fall equally on her. 

"If it were to be done over again, I should do just the same, " sheanswered, with righteous quietness. "To all appearances she had nothingbut a little cold. You have no right to lay the blame on me, hermother. " At the last word she looked ready to cry, too. 

Babcock regarded her like a miserable tame bull. "I didn't mean to, " heblubbered. "She's taken away from me, and I'm so wretched that I don'tknow what I'm saying. I'm sorry, Selma. "

He held out his arms to her. She was ready to go to them, for the angelof death had entered her home and pierced her heart, where it should bemost tender. She loved her baby. Yet, when she had time to think, shewas not sure that she wished to have another. When the bitterness of hisgrief had passed away, that was the hope which Lewis ventured toexpress, at first in a whisper, and later with reiterated boldness. Selma acquiesced externally, but she had her own opinions. Certainthings which were not included in "Mother Lore, " had been confided byMrs. Margaret Rodney Earle by word of mouth in the fulness of theirmutual soul-scourings, and had remained pigeon-holed for futurereference in Selma's inner consciousness. Another baby just at this timemeant interference with everything elevating. There was time enough. Ina year or two, when she had established herself more securely in thesocial sphere of Benham, she would present her husband with a secondchild. It was best for them both to wait, for her success was hissuccess; but it would be useless to try to make that clear to him in hispresent mood. 

So she put away her baby things, dropping tears over the little socksand other reminders of her sorrow, and took up her life again, keepingher own counsel. The sympathy offered her was an interesting experience. Mrs. Earle came to her at once, and took her to her bosom; Mrs. Taylorsent her flowers with a kind note, which set Selma thinking whether sheought not to buy mourning note-paper; and within a week she received avisit of condolence from Mr. Glynn, rather a ghastly visit. Ghastly, because Lewis sat through it all with red eyes, very much as though hewere listening to a touching exhortation in church. To be sure, hegripped the pastor's hand like a vice, at the end, and thanked him forcoming, but his silent, afflicted presence had interfered with the freeinterchange of thought which would have been possible had she been alonewith the clergyman. The subject of death, and the whole train ofreflections incident to it, were uppermost in her mind, and she wouldhave been glad to probe the mysteries of the subject by controversialargument, instead of listening to hearty, sonorous platitudes. Shelistened rather contemptuously, for she recognized that Mr. Glynn wassaying the stereotyped thing in the stereotyped way, without realizingthat it was nothing but sacerdotal pap, little adapted to an intelligentsoul. What was suited to Lewis was not fit for her. And yet her baby'sdeath had served to dissipate somewhat the immediate discontent whichshe felt with her husband. His strong grief had touched her in spite ofherself, and, though she blamed him still for his inconsiderateaccusation, she was fond of him as she might have been fond of someloving Newfoundland, which, splendid in awkward bulk, caressed her andlicked her hand. It was pleasant enough to be in his arms, for the touchof man--even the wrong man--was, at times, a comfort. 

She took up again with determined interest her relations to theInstitute, joining additional classes and pursuing a variety of topicsof study, in regard to some of which she consulted Littleton. She missedhis presence less than she had expected, especially after they had begunto correspond and were able to keep in touch by letter. His letters weredelightful. They served her in her lecture courses, for they so clearlyand concisely expressed her views that she was able to use long extractsfrom them word for word. And every now and then they contained arespectful allusion which showed that he still retained a personalinterest in her. So the weeks slipped away and she was reasonably happy. She was absorbed and there was nothing new to mar the tenor of her life, though she was vaguely conscious that the loss of their little girl hadwidened the breach between her and her husband--widened it for thereason that now, for the first time, he perceived how lonely he was. Thebaby had furnished him with constant delight and preoccupation. He hadlooked forward all day to seeing it at night, and questions relating toit had supplied a never-ceasing small change of conversation between himand her. He had let her go her way with a smile on his face. Selma didnot choose to dwell on the situation, but it was obvious that Lewiscontinued to look glum, and that there were apt to be long silencesbetween them at meals. Now and again he would show some impatience atthe continuous recurrence of the Institute classes as a bar to someproject of domesticity or recreation, as though she had not been anactive member of the Institute before baby was born. 

One of the plans in which Mrs. Earle was most interested was a Congressof Women's Clubs, and in the early summer of the same year--some fourmonths subsequent to the death of Muriel Grace--a small beginning towardthis end was arranged to take place in Chicago. There were to be sixdelegates from each club, and Selma was unanimously selected as one ofthe delegation from the Benham Women's Institute. The opinion wasgenerally expressed that a change would do her good, and there was noquestion that she was admirably fitted to represent the club. Selma, whohad not travelled a hundred miles beyond Benham in her life, was elatedat the prospect of the expedition; so much so that she proudly recountedto Lewis the same evening the news of her appointment. It never occurredto her that he would wish to accompany her, and when he presentlyinformed her that he had been wishing to go to Chicago on business forsome time, and that the date proposed would suit him admirably, she wasdumfounded. Half of the interest of the expedition would consist intravelling as an independent delegation. A husband would be in the wayand spoil the savor of the occasion. It would never do, and so Selmaproceeded to explain. She wished to go alone. 

"A pack of six women travel by themselves?" blurted Lewis. "Supposethere were an accident?" he added, after searching his brain for a lessfeeble argument. 

"We should either be killed or we shouldn't be, " said Selma firmly. "Weare perfectly well able to take care of ourselves. Women travel aloneeverywhere every-day--that is, intelligent American women. "

Lewis looked a little sad. "I thought, perhaps, it would seem nice foryou to go with me, Selma. We haven't been off since we were married, andI can get away now just as well as not. "

"So it would have been if I weren't one of the delegation. I shouldthink you would see, Lewis, that your coming is out of the question. "

So it proved. Selma set forth for Chicago on the appointed day, mademany new acquaintances among the delegates, and was pleased to beintroduced and referred to publicly as Mrs. Selma Babcock--a form ofaddress to which she was unaccustomed at Benham. On the night before herdeparture, being in pleasant spirits, she told Lewis that her absencewould do him good, and that he would appreciate her all the more on herreturn. 

She was to be gone a week. The first twenty-four hours passed gloomilyfor Babcock. Then he began to take notice. He noticed that the countyfair was fixed for the following days. He had hoped to carry Selmathere, but, as she was not to be had, it seemed to him sensible to getwhat enjoyment from it he could alone. Then it happened that a formercompanion of his bachelor days and his bachelor habits, a commercialtraveller, whom he had not seen since his marriage, appeared on thescene. 

"The very man for me!" he ejaculated, jubilantly. 

The obscurity of this remark was presently made clear to his friend, whohad hoped perhaps to enjoy a snug evening at Babcock's domestic hearth, but who was not averse to playing a different part--that of cheering upa father who had lost his baby, and whose wife had left him in thelurch. He assured Babcock that a regular old time outing--a shakingup--would do him good, and Babcock was ready to agree with him, intending thereby a free-handed two days at the fair. As has beenintimated, his manner of life before marriage had not beenirreproachable, but he had been glad of an opportunity to put an end tothe mildly riotous and coarse bouts which disfigured his otherwisecommonplace existence. He had no intention now of misbehaving himself, but he felt the need of being enlivened. His companion was a man whodelighted in what he called a lark, and whose only method of insuring alark was by starting in with whiskey and keeping it up. That had beenalso Babcock's former conception of a good time, and though he had dimlyin mind that he was now a husband and church-member, he strove toconduct himself in such a manner as to maintain his self-respect withoutbecoming a spoil sport. 

During the first day at the fair Babcock managed to preserve this nicedistinction. On the second, he lost account of his conduct, and by thelate afternoon was sauntering with his friend among the booths in thecompany of two suspicions looking women. With these same women the pairof revellers drove off in top buggies just before dusk, and vanished inthe direction of the open country. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Babcock returned to his home twenty-four hours later like a whipped cur. He was disgusted with himself. It seemed to him incredible that heshould have fallen so low. He had sinned against his wife and his ownself-respect without excuse; for it was no excuse that he had lethimself be led to drink too much. His heart ached and his cheek burnedat the recollection of his two days of debauchery. What was to be done?If only he were able to cut this ugly sore in his soul out with a knifeand have done with it forever! But that was impossible. It stared him inthe face, a haunting reality. In his distress he asked himself whetherhe would not go to Mr. Glynn and make a clean breast of it; but hispractical instincts answered him that he would none the less have made abeast of himself. He held his head between his hands, and stareddejectedly at his desk. Some relief came to him at last only from thereflection that it was a single fault, and that it need never--it shouldnever be repeated. Selma need not know, and he would henceforth avoidall such temptations. Terrible as it was, it was a slip, not adeliberate fault, and his love for his wife was not in question. 

Thus reasoning, he managed by the third day after his return to reach aless despondent frame of mind. While busy writing in his office a ladywas announced, and looking up he encountered the meretricious smile ofthe courtesan with whom he had forgotten himself. She had taken a fancyto her victim, and having learned that he was well to do, she had comein order to establish, if possible, on a more permanent basis, herrelations with him. She was a young woman, who had been drifting fromplace to place, and whose professional inclination for a protector washeightened by the liking which she had conceived for him. Babcockrecalled in her smile merely his shame, and regarded her reappearance aseffrontery. He was blind to her prettiness and her sentimental mood. Heasked her roughly what she wanted, and rising from his chair, he badeher be gone before she had time to answer. Nine out of ten women of herclass would have taken their dismissal lightly. Some might have answeredback in tones loud enough to enlighten the clerks, and thus haveaccomplished a pretty revenge in the course of retreat. This particularLesbian was in no humor to be harshly treated. She was a littledesperate and Babcock had pleased her. It piqued her to be treated insuch a fashion; accordingly, she held her ground and sat down. She triedupon him, alternately, irony and pathos. He was angry but confused underthe first, he became savage and merciless under the second, throwingback in her teeth the suggestion of her fondness, and stigmatizing hercoarsely. Then she became angry in her turn--angry as a woman whoseproffered love is spurned. The method for revenge was obvious, and shetold him plainly what she intended. His wife should know at once how herhusband passed his time during her absence. She had posted herself, andshe saw that her shaft hurt. Babcock winced, but mad and incredulous, hethreatened her with arrest and drove her from the room. She went outsmiling, but with an ominous look in her eyes, the remembrance of whichmade him ask himself now and again if she could be vicious enough, orfool enough, to keep her promise. He dismissed the idea as improbable;still the bare chance worried him. Selma was to arrive early the nextmorning, and he had reconciled himself to the conclusion that she neednever know, and that he would henceforth be a faithful husband. Had henot given an earnest of his good faith in his reception of his visitor?Surely, no such untoward and unnatural accident would dash the cup ofreturning happiness from his lips. A more clever man would have gonestraight to police headquarters, instead of trusting to chance. 

A night's rest reassured him as to the idleness of the threat, so thathe was able to welcome Selma at the railroad station with acomparatively light heart. She was in high spirits over the success ofher expedition, and yet graciously ready to admit that she was glad toreturn home--meaning thereby, to her own bed and bathing facilities; butthe general term seemed to poor Lewis a declaration of wifely devotion. He went to his business with the mien of a man who had passed through anordeal and is beginning life again; but when he returned at night, assoon as he beheld Selma, he suspected what had happened. 

She was awaiting him in the parlor. Though he saw at a glance that shelooked grave, he went forward to kiss her, but she rose and, steppingbehind the table, put out her hand forbiddingly. 

"What is the matter?" he faltered. 

"That woman has been here, " was her slow, scornful response. 

"Selma, I--" A confusing sense of hopelessness as to what to say chokedBabcock's attempt to articulate. There was a brief silence, while helooked at her imploringly and miserably. 

"Is it true what she says? Have you been false to your marriage vows?Have you committed adultery?"

"My God! Selma, you don't understand. "

"It is an easy question to answer, yes or no?"

"I forgot myself, Selma. I was drunk and crazy. I ask your pardon. "

She shook her head coldly. "I shall have nothing more to do with you. Icannot live with you any longer. "

"Not live with me?"

"Would you live with me if it were I who had forgotten myself?"

"I think I would, Selma. You don't understand. I was a brute. I havebeen wretched ever since. But it was a slip--an accident. I drank toomuch, and it happened. I love you, Selma, with all my heart. I havenever been false to you in my affection. "

"It is a strange time to talk of affection. I went away for a week, andin my absence you insulted me by debauchery with a creature like that. Love? You have no conception of the meaning of the word. Oh no, I shallnever live with you again. "

Babcock clinched his palms in his distress and walked up and down. Shestood pale and determined looking into space. Presently he turned to herand asked with quiet but intense solicitude, "You don't mean that you'regoing to leave me for one fault, we being husband and wife and thelittle girl in her grave? I said you don't understand and you don't. Aman's a man, and there are times when he's been drinking when he'sliable to yield to temptation, and that though he's so fond of his wifethat life without her would be misery. This sounds strange to a woman, and it's a poor excuse. But it ought to count, Selma, when it comes to aquestion of our separating. There would be happy years before us yet ifyou give me another chance. "

"Not happy years for me, " she replied concisely. "The American womandoes not choose to live with the sort of man you describe. She demandsfrom her husband what he demands from her, faithfulness to the marriagetie. We could never be happy again. Our ideal of life is different. Ihave made excuses for you in other things, but my soul revolts at this. "

Babcock looked at her for a moment in silence, then he said, a littlesternly, "You shouldn't have gone away and left me. I'm not blaming you, but you shouldn't have gone. " He walked to the window but he sawnothing. His heart was racked. He had been eager to humiliate himselfbefore her to prove his deep contrition, but he had come to the end ofhis resources, and yet she was adamant. Her charge that she had beenmaking excuses for him hitherto reminded him that they had not beenreally sympathetic for some time past. With his back turned to her heheard her answer:

"It was understood before I agreed to marry you that I was to be free tofollow my tastes and interests. It is a paltry excuse that, because Ileft you alone for a week in pursuit of them, I am accessory to yoursin. "

Babcock faced her sadly. "The sin's all mine, " he said. "I can't denythat. But, Selma, I guess I've been pretty lonely ever since the babydied. "

"Lonely?" she echoed. "Then my leaving you will not matter so much. Here, " she said, slipping off her wedding-ring, "this belongs to you. "She remembered Mrs. Earle's proceeding, and though she had not yetdecided what course to pursue in order to maintain her liberty, sheregarded this as the significant and definite act. She held out thering, but Babcock shook his head. 

"The law doesn't work as quick as that, nor the church either. You canget a divorce if you're set on it, Selma. But we're husband and wifeyet. "

"Only the husk of our marriage is left. The spirit is dead, " she saidsententiously. "I am going away. I cannot pass another night in thishouse. If you will not take this ring, I shall leave it here. "

Babcock turned to hide the tears which blinded his eyes. Selma regardedhim a moment gravely, then she laid her wedding-ring on the table andwent from the room. 

She put her immediate belongings into a bag and left the house. She haddecided to go to Mrs. Earle's lodgings where she would be certain tofind shelter and sympathy. Were she to go to her aunt's she would beexposed to importunity on her husband's behalf from Mrs. Farley, who waspartial to Lewis. Her mind was entirely made up that there could be noquestion of reconciliation. Her duty was plain; and she would be doingherself an injustice were she to continue to live with one so weak andregardless of the honor which she had a right to demand of the man towhom she had given her society and her body. His gross conduct hadentitled her to her liberty, and to neglect to seize it would be tocondemn herself to continuous unhappiness, for this overt act of his wasmerely a definite proof of the lack of sympathy between them, of whichshe had for some time been well aware at heart. As she walked along thestreet she was conscious that it was a relief to her to be sloughing offthe garment of an uncongenial relationship and to be starting lifeafresh. There was nothing in her immediate surroundings from which shewas not glad to escape. Their house was full of blemishes from thestand-point of her later knowledge, and she yearned to dissociateherself, once and for all, from the trammels of her pitiful mistake. Shebarely entertained the thought that she was without means. She wouldhave to support herself, of course, but it never occurred to her todoubt her ability to do so, and the necessity added a zest to herdecision. It would be plain sailing, for Mrs. Earle had more than onceinvited her to send copy to the _Benham Sentinel_, and there was no formof occupation which would be more to her liking than newspaper work. Itwas almost with the mien of a prisoner escaped from jail that she walkedin upon her friend and said:

"I have left my husband. He has been unfaithful to me. "

In Mrs. Earle, conventional feminine instincts were apt, before she hadtime to think, to get the upper hand of her set theories. "You, poor, poor child, " she cried extending her arms. 

Selma had not intended to weep. Still the opportunity was convenient, and her nerves were on edge. She found herself sobbing with her head onMrs. Earle's, bosom, and telling her sad story. 

"He was never good enough for you. I have always said so, " Mrs. Earlemurmured stroking her hair. 

"I ought to have known from the first that it was impossible for us tobe happy. Why did I ever marry him? He said he loved me, and I letmyself be badgered into it, " Selma answered through her tears. "Well, it's all over now, " she added, sitting up and drying her eyes. "He hasgiven me back my liberty. I am a free woman. "

"Yes, dear, if you are perfectly sure of yourself, there is only onecourse to pursue. Only you should consider the matter solemnly. Perhapsin a few days, after he has apologized and shown proper contrition, youmight feel willing to give him another chance. "

Selma was unprepared for Mrs. Earle's sentimentality. "Surely, " sheexclaimed with tragic earnestness, "you wouldn't have me live with himafter what occurred? Contrition? He said everything he could think of toget me to stay, but I made my decision then and there. "

Mrs. Earle put her own handkerchief to her eyes. "Women have forgivensuch things; but I respect you all the more for not being weak. I knowhow you feel. It is hard to do, but if I had it to do over again, Iwould act just the same--just the same. It's a serious responsibility toencourage any one to desert a home, but under the circumstances I wouldnot live with him another minute, my child--not another minute. "Thereupon Mrs. Earle protruded her bosom to celebrate the triumph ofjustice in her own mental processes over conventional and maudlinscruples. "You will apply for a divorce, I suppose?"

"I have not considered that. All I care for is never to see him again. "

"Oh yes, you must get a divorce. It is much better, you know. In my caseI couldn't, for he did nothing public. A divorce settles matters, andputs you back where you were before. You might wish some day to marryagain. "

"I have had enough of marriage. "

"It isn't any harm to be a free woman--free in the eye of the law aswell as of conscience. I know an excellent lawyer--a Mr. Lyons, asympathetic and able man. Besides your husband is bound to support you. You must get alimony. "

"I wouldn't touch a dollar of his money, " Selma answered with scorn. "Iintend to support myself. I shall write--work. "

"Of course you will, dear; and it will be a boon and a blessing to me tohave you in our ranks--one of the new army of self-supporting, self-respecting women. I suppose you are right. I have never had asixpence. But your husband deserves to be punished. Perhaps it ispunishment enough to lose you. "

"He will get over that. It is enough for me, " she exclaimed, ardently, after a dreamy pause, "that I am separated from him forever--that I amfree--free--free. "

A night's sleep served to intensify Selma's determination, and she awokeclearly of the opinion that a divorce was desirable. Why remain fetteredby a bare legal tie to one who was a husband only in name? Accordingly, in company with Mrs. Earle, she visited the office of James O. Lyons, and took the initiatory steps to dissolve the marriage. 

Mr. Lyons was a large, full-bodied man of thirty-five, with a fat, cleanly-shaven, cherubic countenance, an aspect of candor, and keen, solemn eyes. His manner was impressive and slightly pontificial; hisvoice resonant and engaging. He knew when to joke and when to be graveas an owl. He wore in every-day life a shiny, black frock-coat, astanding collar, which yawned at the throat, and a narrow, black tie. His general effect was that of a cross between a parson and a shrewdYankee--a happy suggestion of righteous, plain, serious-mindedness, protected against the wiles of human society--and able to protectothers--by a canny intelligence. For a young man he had already aconsiderable clientage. A certain class of people, notably thehard-headed, God-fearing, felt themselves safe in his hands. Hismagnetic yet grave manner of conducting business pleased Benham, attracting also both the distressed and the bilious portions of thecommunity, and the farmers from the surrounding country. As Mrs. Earleinformed Selma, he was in sympathy with all progressive and stimulatingideas, and he already figured in the newspapers politically, and beforethe courts as a friend of the masses, and a fluent advocate of socialreforms. His method of handling Selma's case was smooth. To begin with, he was sympathetic within proper limits, giving her tacitly tounderstand that, though as a man and brother, he deplored the necessityof extreme measures, he recognized that she had made up her mind, andthat compromise was out of the question. To put it concisely, his mannerwas grieved, but practical. He told her that he would represent toBabcock the futility of contesting a cause, which, on the evidence, mustbe hopeless, and that, in all probability, the matter could be disposedof easily and without publicity. He seemed to Selma a very sensible andcapable man, and it was agreeable to her to feel that he appreciatedthat, though divorce in the abstract was deplorable, her experiencejustified and called for the protection of the law. 

In the meantime Babcock was very unhappy, and was casting about for amethod to induce his wife to return. He wrote to her a pitiful letter, setting forth once more the sorry facts in the best light which he couldbring to bear on them, and implored her forgiveness. He applied to heraunt, Mrs. Farley, and got her to supplement his plea with hergood-natured intervention. "There are lots of men like that, " sheconfided to Selma, "and he's a kind, devoted creature. " When thisfailed, he sought Rev. Mr. Glynn as a last resort, and, after he hadlistened to a stern and fervid rating from the clergyman on the lust ofthe flesh, he found his pastor on his side. Mr. Glynn was opposed todivorce on general ecclesiastical principles; moreover, he had beeneducated under the law of England, by which a woman cannot obtain adivorce from her husband for the cause of adultery unless it be coupledwith cruelty--a clever distinction between the sexes, which wasdoubtless intended as a cloak for occasional lapses on the part of man. It was plain to him, as a Christian and as a hearty soul, that there hadbeen an untoward accident--a bestial fault, a soul-debasing carnal sin, but still an accident, and hence to be forgiven by God and woman. It washis duty to interfere; and so, having disciplined the husband, heessayed the more delicate matter of propitiating the wife. And heessayed it without a thought of failure. 

"I'm afraid she's determined to leave me, and that there's not muchhope, " said Babcock, despondently, as he gripped the clergyman's hand intoken of his gratitude. 

"Nonsense, my man, " asserted Mr. Glynn briskly. "All she needs is anexhortation from me, and she will take you back. "

Selma was opposed to divorce in theory. That is, she had accepted ontrust the traditional prejudice against it as she had acceptedShakespeare and Boston. But theory stood for nothing in her regardbefore the crying needs of her own experience. She had not the leastintention of living with her husband again. No one could oblige her todo that. In addition, the law offered her a formal escape from hiscontrol and name. Why not avail herself of it? She recollected, besides, that her husband's church recognized infidelity as a lawful ground ofrelease from the so-called sacrament of marriage. This had come into hermind as an additional sanction to her own decision. But it had notcontributed to that decision. Consequently, when she was confronted inMrs. Earle's lodgings by the errand of Mr. Glynn, she felt that hiscoming was superfluous. Still, she was glad of the opportunity tomeasure ideas with him in a thorough interview free from interruption. 

Mr. Glynn's confidence was based on his intention to appeal to the everwomanly quality of pity. He expected to encounter some resistance, forindisputably here was a woman whose sensibilities had been justly andseverely shocked--a woman of finer tissue than her husband, as he hadnoted in other American couples. She was entitled to her day incourt--to a stubborn, righteous respite of indignation. But he expectedto carry the day in the end, amid a rush of tears, with which his ownmight be mingled. He trusted to what he regarded as the innatereluctance of the wife to abandon the man she loved, and to the leavenof feminine Christian charity. 

As a conscientious hater of sin, he did not attempt to minimizeBabcock's act or the insult put upon her. That done, he was free tointercede fervently for him and to extol the virtue and the advisabilityof forgiveness. This plea, however cogent, was narrow, and once statedadmitted merely of duplication in the same form. It was indeed noargument, merely an appeal, and, in proportion as it failed to move thelistener, became feeble. Selma listened to him with a tense face, herhands clasped before her in the guise of an interested andself-scrutinizing spirit. But she betrayed no sign of yielding, orsymptom of doubt. She shook her head once or twice as he proceeded, and, when he paused, asked why she should return to a man who had brokenfaith with her; asked it in such a genuine tone of conviction that Dr. Glynn realized the weakness of his own case, and became slightly nettledat the same time. 

"True, " he said, rather sternly, "your husband has committed a hideous, carnal sin, but he is genuinely repentant. Do you wish to ruin his lifeforever?"

"His life?" said Selma. "It would ruin my life to return to him. I haveother plans--plans which will bring me happiness. I could never be happywith him. "

The clergyman was baffled. Other plans! The words offended him, and yethe could not dispute her right to do as she chose. Still he saw fit tomurmur: "He that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth hislife for my sake shall find it. "

Selma flushed. To be accused of acting contrary to Christian preceptswas painful and surprising to her. "Mr. Glynn, " she said, "I see youdon't understand. My husband and I ought never to have married. It hasall been a dreadful mistake. We have not the same tastes and interests. I am sorry for him, but I can never consent to return to him. To do sowould condemn us both to a life of unhappiness. We were not intended forhusband and wife, and it is best--yes, more Christian--for us toseparate. We American women do not feel justified in letting a mistakeruin our lives when there is a chance to escape. "

Mr. Glynn regarded her in silence for a moment. He was accustomed toconvince, and he had not succeeded, which to a clergyman is moreannoying than to most men. Still what she said made his plea seemdoubtful wisdom. 

"Then you do not love your husband?" he said. 

"No, " said Selma quietly, "I do not love him. It is best to be frankwith one's self--with you, in such a matter, isn't it? So you see thatwhat you ask is out of the question. "

Mr. Glynn rose. Clearly his mission had failed, and there was nothingmore to be said. Being a just man, he hesitated to pass an unkindjudgment on this bright-faced, pensive woman. She was within her moralrights, and he must be careful to keep within his. But he went awaybewildered and discomfited. Selma would have liked to dismiss thesubject and keep him longer. She would have been glad to branch off onto other ethical topics and discuss them. She was satisfied with theresult of the interview, for she had vindicated her position and spikedLewis's last gun. 

So, indeed, it proved. Mr. Glynn sent for Babcock and told him the nakedtruth, that his wife's love for him was dead and reconciliationimpossible. He properly refrained from expressing the doubt lurking inhis own mind as to whether Selma had ever loved her husband. Thusconvinced of the hopelessness of his predicament, Babcock agreed to Mr. Lyons's suggestion not to contest the legal proceedings. The lawyer hadbeen diligent, and the necessary evidence--the testimony of thewoman--was secure. She was ready to carry her revenge to the end, hoping, perhaps, that the victim of it would return to her when he hadlost his wife. Accordingly, a few weeks later, Selma was granted adivorce nisi and the right to resume her maiden name. She had decided, however, to retain the badge of marriage as a decorous social prefix, and to call herself Mrs. Selma White. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The consciousness that she was dependent for the means of support solelyon her own exertions was a genuine pleasure to Selma, and she appliedherself with confidence and enthusiasm to the problem of earning herlivelihood. She had remained steadfast to her decision to accept nothingfrom her husband except the legal costs of the proceedings, though Mr. Lyons explained to her that alimony was a natural and moral increment ofdivorce. Still, after her refusal, he informed her as a man and a friendthat he respected and admired the independence of her action, which wasan agreeable tribute. She had fixed definitely on newspaper work as themost inviting and congenial form of occupation. She believed herself tobe well fitted for it. It would afford her an immediate income, and itwould give her the opportunity which she craved for giving publicexpression to her ideas and fixing attention on herself. There was roomfor more than one Mrs. Earle in Benham, for Benham was growing andwide-awake and on the alert for originality of any kind--especially inthe way of reportorial and journalistic cleverness. Selma had nointention of becoming a second Mrs. Earle. That is, she promised herselfto follow, but not to follow blindly; to imitate judiciously, but toimprove on a gradually diverging line of progress. This was meregeneralization as yet. It was an agreeable seething brain consciousnessfor future development. For the moment, however, she counted on Mrs. Earle to obtain for her a start by personal influence at the office ofthe _Benham Sentinel_. This was provided forthwith in the form of aninvitation to prepare a weekly column under the caption of "What WomenWear;" a summary of passing usages in clothes. The woman reporter incharge of it had just died. Selma's first impulse was to decline thework as unworthy of her abilities, yet she was in immediate need ofemployment to avoid running in debt and she was assured by Mrs. Earlethat she would be very foolish to reject such an offer. Reflectioncaused her to think more highly of the work itself. It would afford hera chance to explain to the women of Benham, and indirectly to thecountry at large, that taste in dress was not necessarily inconsistentwith virtue and serious intentions--a truth of which she herself hadbecome possessed since her marriage and which it seemed to her might beutilized delightfully in her department. She would endeavor to treatdress from the standpoint of ethical responsibility to society, and toshow that both extravagance and dowdy homeliness were to be avoided. Clothes in themselves had grown to be a satisfaction to her, and anyassociation of vanity would be eliminated by the introduction of aserious artistic purpose into a weekly commentary concerning them. Accordingly she accepted the position and entered upon its duties withgrave zeal. 

For each of these contributions Selma was to receive eight dollars--fourhundred a year, which she hoped to expand to a thousand by creativeliterary production--preferably essays and poetry. She hired a room inthe same neighborhood as Mrs. Earle, in the boarding-house districtappurtenant to Central Avenue--that is to say, on the ragged edge ofBenham's social artery, and set up her new household gods. The interestof preparing the first paper absorbed her to the exclusion of everythingelse. She visited all the dress-making and dry-goods establishments intown, examined, at a hint from Mrs. Earle, the fashion departments ofthe New York papers, and then, pen in hand, gave herself up to hersubject. The result seemed to her a happy blending of timely philosophyand suggestions as to toilette, and she took it in person to the editor. He saw fit to read it on the spot. His brow wrinkled at first and helooked dubious. He re-read it and said with some gusto, "It's a novelty, but I guess they'll like it. Our women readers have been used to fashionnotes which are crisp and to the point, and the big houses expect tohave attention called to the goods they wish to sell. If you'll run overthis again and set your cold facts in little paragraphs by themselvesevery now and then, I shouldn't wonder if the rest were a sort oflecture course which will catch them. It's a good idea. Next time youcould work in a pathetic story--some references to a deadbaby--verses--anecdotes--a little variety. You perceive the idea?"

"Oh, yes, " said Selma, appropriately sober at the allusion yet ecstatic. "That's just what I should like to do. It would give me more scope. Iwish my articles to be of real use--to help people to live better, andto dress better. "

"That's right, that's right; and if they make the paper sell, we'll knowthat folks like them, " responded the editor with Delphic urbanity. 

The first article was a success. That is, Selma's method was notinterfered with, and she had the satisfaction of reading in the_Sentinel_ during the week an item calling gratified attention to thechange in its "What Women Wear" column, and indicating that it wouldcontain new features from week to week. It gave her a pleasant thrill tosee her name, "Selma White, " signed at the end of the printed column, and she set to work eagerly to carry out the editor's suggestions. Atthe same time she tried her hand at a short story--the story of anAmerican girl who went to Paris to study art, refused to alter her modeof life to suit foreign ideas of female propriety, displayed exceptionaltalent as an artist, and finally married a fine-spirited young American, to the utter discomfiture of a French member of the nobility, who hadbegun by insulting her and ended with making her an offer of marriage. This she sent to the _Eagle_, the other Benham newspaper, for its Sundayedition. 

It took her a month to compose this story, and after a week she receivedit back with a memorandum to the effect that it was one-half too long, but intimating that in a revised form it would be acceptable. This was alittle depressing, especially as it arrived at a time when the noveltyof her occupation had worn off and she was realizing the limitations ofher present life. She had begun to miss the advantages of a free purseand the importance of a domestic establishment. She possessed herliberty, and was fulfilling her mission as a social force, but her lifehad been deprived of some of its savor, and, though she was thankful tobe rid of Babcock, she felt the lack of an element of personal devotionto herself, an element which was not to be supplied by mere admirationon the part of Mrs. Earle and the other members of the Institute. It didnot suit her not to be able to gratify her growing taste in clothes andin other lines of expenditure, and there were moments when sheexperienced the need of being petted and made much of by a man. She wasconscious of loneliness, and in this mood she pitied herself as a victimof untoward circumstances, one who had wasted the freshness of her younglife, and missed the happiness which the American wife is apt to findwaiting for her. Under the spell of this nostalgia she wrote a poementitled "The Bitter Sweets of Solitude, " and disposed of it for fivedollars to the _Sentinel_. The price shocked her, for the verses seemedflesh of her flesh. Still, five dollars was better than nothing, and shediscerned from the manner of the newspaper editor that he cared littlewhether she left them or not. It was on that evening that she received aletter from Littleton, stating that he was on the eve of leaving NewYork for Benham. He was coming to consult concerning certain furtherinterior decorations which the committee had decided to add to thechurch. 

Selma's nerves vibrated blissfully as she read the news. For somereason, which she had never seen fit definitely to define, she hadchosen not to acquaint Littleton with the fact of her divorce. Theirletters had been infrequent during the last six months, for this visithad been impending, having been put off from time to time because thecommittee had been dilatory and he otherwise engaged. Perhaps her secretmotive had been to surprise him, to let him find himself confronted withan accomplished fact, which would obviate argument and reveal herestablished in her new career, a happy, independent citizen, withoutties. At any rate she smiled now at the address on the envelope--Mrs. Lewis Babcock. Obviously he was still in the dark as to the truth, andit would be her privilege to enlighten him. She began to wonder whatwould be the upshot of his coming, and tears came to her eyes, tears ofself-congratulation that the narrow tenor of her daily life was to beirradiated by a sympathetic spirit. 

When Littleton duly appeared at the committee meeting on the followingday, Selma saw at a glance that he was unaware of what had happened. Helooked slightly puzzled when one of the members addressed her as Mrs. White, but evidently he regarded this as a slip of the tongue. Selmalooked, as she felt, contented and vivacious. She had dressed herselfsimply, but with effective trigness. To those who knew her experience, her appearance indicated courage and becoming self-respect. Publicopinion, even as embodied in the church committee, while deploring thenecessity, was not disposed to question the propriety of her action. That is, all except Mrs. Taylor. In her, Selma thought she had detectedsigns of coldness, a sort of suspicious reservation of judgment, whichcontrasted itself unpleasantly with the sympathetic attitude of theothers, who were fain to refer to her, in not altogether muffledwhispers, as a plucky, independent, little woman. Hence, she was gladthat Mrs. Taylor happened to be detained at home by illness on thisafternoon, and that, accordingly, she was free to enjoy unreservedly thedramatic nature of the situation. Her heart beat a little faster as thechairman, turning to her to ask a question, addressed her unmistakablyas Mrs. White. She could not refrain from casting half-amused, half-pathetic sheep's eyes at Littleton. He started visibly, regardedher for, a moment in obvious amazement, then flushed to the roots of hishair. She felt the blood rising to her own cheeks, and a sensation ofmild triumph. The meeting was over and the members were merely lingeringto tie up the loose threads of the matter arranged for. In a few momentsSelma found herself with the architect sufficiently apart from theothers for him to ask:

"Two persons have addressed you this afternoon as Mrs. White. I do notunderstand. "

She cast down her eyes, as a woman will when a question of modesty isinvolved, then she raised them and said: "You did not know, then, that Ihad left my husband?"

"Left him?"

"Yes. I have obtained a divorce. He was unfaithful to me. "

"I see"--said Littleton with a sort of gasp--"I see. I did not know. Younever wrote to me. "

"I did not feel like writing to any body. There was nothing to be donebut that. "

Littleton regarded her with a perturbed, restless air. 

"Then you live no longer at 25 Onslow Avenue?"

"Oh, no. I left there more than six months ago. I live in lodgings. I amsupporting myself by literary work. I am Mrs. Selma White now, and mydivorce has been absolute more than a month. "

She spoke gravely and quietly, with less than her usual assurance, forshe felt the spell of his keen, eager scrutiny and was not averse toyield at the moment to the propensity of her sex. She wondered what hewas thinking about. Did he blame her? Did he sympathize with her?

"Where are you going when you leave here?" he asked. 

"Home--to my new home. Will you walk along with me?"

"That is what I should like. I am astonished by what you have told me, and am anxious to hear more about it, if to speak of it would not woundyou. Divorced! How you must have suffered! And I did not have the chanceto offer you my help--my sympathy. "

"Yes, I have suffered. But that is all over now. I am a free woman. I ambeginning my life over again. "

It was a beautiful afternoon, and by mutual consent, which neither putinto words, they diverged from the exact route to Selma's lodging houseand turned their steps to the open country beyond the city limits--thepicturesque dell which has since become the site of Benham's publicpark. There they seated themselves where they would not be interrupted. Selma told him on the way the few vital facts in her painful story, towhich he listened in a tense silence, broken chiefly by an occasionalejaculation expressive of his contempt for the man who had brought suchunhappiness upon her. She let him understand, too, that her marriedlife, from the first, had been far less happy than he hadimagined--wretched makeshift for the true relation of husband and wife. She spoke of her future buoyantly, yet with a touch of sadness, asthough to indicate that she was aware that the triumphs of intelligenceand individuality could not entirely be a substitute for a happy home. 

"And what do you expect to do?" he inquired in a bewildered fashion, asthough her delineation of her hopes had been lost on him. 

"Do? Support myself by my own exertions, as I have told you. By writingI expect. I am doing very well already. Do you question my ability tocontinue?"

"Oh, no; not that. Only--"

"Only what? Surely you are not one of the men who grudge women thechance to prove what is in them--who would treat us like china dolls andcircumscribe us by conventions? I know you are not, because I have heardyou inveigh against that very sort of narrow mindedness. Only what?"

"I can't make up my mind to it. And I suppose the reason is that itmeans so much to me--that you mean so much to me. What is the use of mydodging the truth, Selma--seeking to conceal it because such a shorttime has elapsed since you ceased to be a wife? Forgive me if I hurtyou, if it seem indelicate to speak of love at the very moment when youare happy in your liberty. I can't help it; it's my nature to speakopenly. And there's no bar now. The fact that you are free makes clearto me what I have not dared to countenance before, that you are the onewoman in the world for me--the woman I have dreamed of--and longed tomeet--the woman whose influence has blessed me already, and without whomI shall lack the greatest happiness which life can give. Selma, I loveyou--I adore you. "

Selma listened with greedy ears, which she could scarcely believe. Itseemed to her that she was in dream-land, so unexpected, yet entrancing, was his avowal. She had been vaguely aware that he admired her more thanhe had allowed himself to disclose, and conscious, too, that hispresence was agreeable to her; but in an instant now she recognized thatthis was love--the love she had sought, the love she had yearned toinspire and to feel. Compared with it, Babcock's clumsy ecstasy and herown sufferance of it had been a sham and a delusion. Of so much she wasconscious in a twinkling, and yet what she deemed proper self-respectrestrained her from casting herself into his arms. It was, indeed, soon, and she had been happy in her liberty. At least, she had supposedherself so; and she owed it to her own plans and hopes not to acthastily, though she knew what she intended to do. She had been lonely, yes starving, for lack of true companionship, and here was the soulwhich would be a true mate to hers. 

They were sitting on a grassy bank. He was bending toward her withclasped hands, a picture of fervor. She could see him out of the cornerof her glance, though she looked into space with her gaze of seraphicworry. Yet her lips were ready to lend themselves to a smile of blissfulsatisfaction and her eyes to fill with the melting mood of the thoughtthat at last happiness had come to her. 

The silence was very brief, but Littleton, as would have seemed fittingto her, feared lest she were shocked. 

"I distress you, " he said. "Forgive me. Listen--will you listen?" Selmawas glad to listen. The words of love, such love as this, weredelicious, and she felt she owed it to herself not to be won too easily. "I am listening, " she answered softly with the voice of one face to facewith an array of doubts. 

"Before I met you, Selma, woman but was a name to me. My life brought melittle into contact with them, except my dear sister, and I had notemptation to regret that I could not support a wife. Yet I dreamed ofwoman and of love and of a joy which might some day come to me if Icould meet one who fulfilled my ideal of what a true woman should be. SoI dreamed until I met you. The first time I saw you, Selma, I knew in myheart that you were a woman whom I could love. Perhaps I should haverecognized more clearly as time went on that you were more to me eventhen than I had a right to allow; yet I call heaven to witness that Idid not, by word or sign, do a wrong to him who has done such a cruelwrong to you. "

"Never by word or sign, " echoed Selma solemnly. The bare suggestion thatBabcock had cause to complain of either of them seemed to herpreposterous. Yet she was saying to herself that it was easy to perceivethat he had loved her from the first. 

"And since I love you with all my soul must I--should I in justice tomyself--to my own hopes of happiness, refrain from speaking merelybecause you have so recently been divorced? I must speak--I am speaking. It is too soon, I dare say, for you to be willing to think of marriageagain--but I offer you the love and protection of a husband. My meansare small, but I am able now to support a wife in decent comfort. Selma, give me some hope. Tell me, that in time you may be willing to trustyourself to my love. You wish to work--to distinguish yourself. Would Ibe a hindrance to that? Indeed, you must know that I would do everything in my power to promote your desire to be of service to the world. "

The time for her smile and her tears had come. He had argued his caseand her own, and it was clear to her mind that delay would be futile. Since happiness was at hand, why not grasp it? As for her work, he neednot interfere with that. And, after all, now that she had tried it, wasshe so sure that newspaper work--hack work, such as she was pursuing, was what she wished? As a wife, re-established in the security of ahome, she could pick and choose her method of expression. Perhaps, indeed, it would not be writing, except occasionally. Was not New York awide, fruitful field, for a reforming social influence? She saw herselfin her mind's eye a leader of movements and of progress. And that with aman she loved--yes, adored even as he adored her. 

So she turned to Littleton with her smile and in tears--the image ofbewitching but pathetic self-justification and surrender. Her mind wasmade up; hence why procrastinate and coyly postpone the desirable, andthe inevitable? That was what she had the shrewdness to formulate in theecstasy of her transport; and so eloquent was the mute revelation of herlove that Littleton, diffident reverencer of the modesty of woman as hewas, without a word from her clasped her to his breast, a victor in abreath. As, regardless of the possible invasion of interlopers, he tookher in his embrace, she felt with satisfaction once more the grasp ofmasculine arms. She let her head fall on his shoulder in delightedcontentment. While he murmured in succession inarticulate terms ofendearment, she revelled in the thrill of her nerves and approved herown sagacious and commendable behavior. 

"Dearest, " she whispered, "you are right. We are right. Since we loveeach other, why should we not say so? I love you--I love you. The uglyhateful past shall not keep us apart longer. You say you loved me fromthe first; so did I love you, though I did not know it then. We weremeant for each other--God meant us--did he not? It is right, and weshall be so happy, Wilbur. "

"Yes, Selma. " Words seemed to him an inadequate means for expressing hisemotions. He pressed his lips upon hers with the adoring respect of aworshipper touching his god, yet with the energy of a man. She sighedand compared him in her thought with Babcock. How gentle this new lover!How refined and sensitive and appreciative! How intelligent andgentlemanly!

"If I had my wish, darling, " he said, "we should be married to-night andI would carry you away from here forever. "

She remembered that Babcock had uttered the same wish on the occasionwhen he had offered himself. To grant it then had been out of thequestion. To do so now would be convenient--a prompt and satisfactoryblotting out of her past and present life--a happy method of solvingmany minor problems of ways and means connected with waiting to bemarried. Besides it would be romantic, and a delicious, fitting crowningof her present blissful mood. 

He mistook her silence for womanly scruples, and he recounted with alittle laugh the predicament in which he should find himself on his ownaccount were they to be so precipitate. "What would my sister think ifshe were to get a telegram--'Married to-night. Expect us to-morrow?' Shewould think I had lost my senses. So I have, darling; and you are thecause. She knows about you. I have talked to her about you. "

"But she thinks I am Mrs. Babcock. "

"Oh yes. Ha! ha! It would never do to state to whom I was married, unless I sent a telegram as long as my arm. Dear Pauline! She will beradiant. It is all arranged that she is to stay where she is in the oldquarters, and I am to take you to a new house. We've decided on that, time and again, when we've chanced to talk of what might happen--of 'thefair, the chaste and unexpressive she'--my she. Dearest, I wondered if Ishould ever find her. Pauline has always said that she would never runthe risk of spoiling everything by living with us. "

"It would be very nice--and very simple, " responded Selma, slowly. "Youwouldn't think any the worse of me, Wilbur, if I were to marry youto-night?"

"The worse of you? It is what I would like of all things. Whom does itconcern but us? Why should we wait in order to make a public spectacleof ourselves?"

"I shouldn't wish that. I should insist on being married very quietly. Under all the circumstances there is really no reason--it seems to me itwould be easier if we were to be married as soon as possible. It wouldavoid explanations and talk, wouldn't it? That is, if you are perfectlysure. "

"Sure? That I love you? Oh Selma!"

She shut her eyes under the thrill which his kiss gave her. "Then wewill be married whenever you wish, " she said. 

It was already late in the afternoon, so that the prospects of obtaininga license did not seem favorable. Still it happened that Littleton knewa clergyman of his own faith--Unitarian--in Benham, a college classmate, whom he suggested as soon as he understood that Selma preferred not tobe married by Mr. Glynn. They found him at home, and by diligentpersonal effort on his part the necessary legal forms were complied withand they were made husband and wife three hours before the departure ofthe evening train for New York. After the ceremony they steppedbuoyantly, arm in arm in the dusk, along the street to send the telegramto Miss Littleton, and to snatch a hasty meal before Selma went to herlodgings to pack. There were others in the restaurant, so havingdiscovered that they were not hungry, they bought sandwiches andbananas, and resumed their travels. The suddenness and surprise of itall made Selma feel as if on wings. It seemed to her to be of theessence of new and exquisite romance to be walking at the side of herfond, clever lover in the democratic simplicity of two paper bags ofprovender and an open, yet almost headlong marriage. She felt that atlast she was yoked to a spirit who comprehended her and who wouldstimulate instead of repress the fire of originality within her. She hadfound love and she was happy. Meanwhile she had decided to leave Benhamwithout a word to anyone, even Mrs. Earle. She would write and explainwhat had happened. 

BOOK II. 

THE STRUGGLE

CHAPTER I. 

Littleton had not expected that Selma would accede to his request to bemarried at once, but he was delighted at her decision. He had utteredhis wish in sincerity, for there was really no reason for waiting, andby an immediate marriage they would escape the tedium of an engagementduring which they could hope to see each other but rarely. He was ableto support a wife provided they were to live simply and economically. Hefelt sure that Selma understood his circumstances and was no less readythan he to forego luxuries in order that they might be all in all toeach other spiritually as husband and wife. Besides he had hopes thathis clientage would continue to grow so that he would be able to provideall reasonable comforts for his new home. Consequently he drove up fromthe station in New York with a light heart, fondly pointing out to hiswife this and that building and other objects of interest. He mistookher pensive silence for diffidence at the idea of descending suddenly onanother woman's home--a matter which in this instance gave him noconcern, for he had unlimited confidence in Pauline's executive abilityand her tendency not to get ruffled. She had been his good angel, domestically speaking, and, indeed, in every way, since they had firstbegun to keep house together, and it had rather amused him to let fallsuch a bombshell as the contents of his telegram upon the regularity ofher daily life. 

"Don't be nervous, darling, " he said gayly. "You will find Paulinebubbling over with joy at our coming, and everything arranged as thoughwe were expected to live there all our lives. "

Selma looked at him blankly and then remembered. She was not feelingnervous, and Pauline was not in her thoughts. She had been lost in herown reflections--lost in the happy consciousness of the contrast betweenher new and her old husband, and in the increasing satisfaction that shewas actually in New York. How bright and busy the streets looked! Thethrong of eager passers and jostling vehicles against the background ofbrilliant shop-windows bewildered and stimulated her. She was saying toherself that here was the place where she was suited to live, and mutelyacknowledging its superiority to Benham as a centre of life. This was arash, swift conclusion, but Selma prided herself on her capacity toarrive at wise judgments by rapid mental processes. So absorbed was shein the glittering, stirring panorama that Wilbur's efforts atenlightenment were practically wasted. She was in no humor for details;she was glorying in the exalted impression which the whole vivid sceneproduced upon her. 

His remark caused her to realize that they must be near theirdestination. She had no misgivings on the score of her own reception, but she was interested and curious to see Pauline, this wonderful sisterof whom Wilbur was so fond and so proud. Then her husband cried, "Herewe are!" and in another moment she found herself in the hearty embraceof a large, comely woman who met her at the door. This of course must bePauline. Selma was just a little shocked by the fervor of the greeting;for though she delighted in rapid intimacies, unexpected liberties withher person were contrary to her conceptions of propriety. Still it wasdelightful to be welcomed so heartily. She returned the embrace warmlybut with dignity, and allowed herself to be convoyed into the house armin arm with her new relation who seemed, indeed, to be bubbling overwith joy. It was not until they were in the same room that Selma couldget a good look at her. 

Pauline Littleton was fine looking rather than pretty. She was tall andsubstantial, with an agreeable face, an intelligent brow, a firm yetsweet mouth, and steady, honest eyes which now sparkled with pleasure. Her physique was very different from her brother's. Selma noticed thatshe was taller than herself and only a little shorter than Wilbur. Shehad Wilbur's smile too, suggesting a disposition to take thingshumorously; but her expression lacked the poetic cast which made him soattractive and congenial to herself and excused the existence of thelighter vein. Selma did not admire women who were inclined to be stout. She associated spareness of person with high thinking, and an abundanceof flesh as an indication of material or commonplace aims. She reflectedthat Pauline was presumably business-like and a good house-keeper, and, very likely, an industrious teacher in her classes, but she set her downin her mind as deficient in the finer sensibilities of the spiritbelonging to herself and Wilbur. It was instinctive with Selma to form aprompt estimate of every one she met, and it was a relief to her to cometo the agreeable conclusion that there was nothing in hersister-in-law's appearance to make her discontented with herself. Thiswarmed her heart at once toward Pauline. To be sure Pauline manifestedthe same sort of social grace which distinguished Mrs. Hallett Taylor, but Selma, though she still regarded this with suspicion, for the reasonthat she had not yet become mistress of it, was secretly content to knowthat she had married into a family which possessed it. Altogether shewas agreeably impressed by her scrutiny of her new sister, who, in heropinion, would not be an irritating rival either in looks or character, and yet who was a pleasing and sufficiently serious-minded person--inshort just the sort of sister-in-law which she yearned to have. 

Pauline, on her part, was duly fascinated by the delicate and inspiringbeauty of her brother's wife. She understood at once why Wilbur hadchosen her in preference to any one of his own circle. Selma obviouslysymbolized by her grave, tense, thin face the serious ideals of livingand womanhood, which had been dear to his meditation as a youth and apart of his heritage from his New England ancestors. It made her joyousto feel that he had found a wife who would be a constant source ofinspiration to him, for she knew that Wilbur would not be happy with anyone who fell short of his ideal as to what a woman should be. She knewher brother well, and she understood how deeply in earnest he was tomake the most of his life, and what an exalted vision he entertained asto the possibilities for mutual sympathy and help between husband andwife. 

Partly as a consequence of their limited means, partly owing toabsorption in their respective studies and interests, the Littletons, though of gentle stock, lived simple lives according to New Yorkstandards. They were aware of the growth of luxury resulting from theaccumulation of big fortunes since the war. As an architect, Wilbur sawlarger and more elaborate public and private buildings being erected onevery side. As a house-keeper and a woman with social interests, Paulineknew that the power of money was revolutionizing the public taste in thematter of household expenditure; that in the details of domestic lifethere was more color and more circumstance, and that people who werewell-to-do, and many who were not, were requiring as daily comforts allsorts of things to which they had been unaccustomed. But though theyboth thus knew vaguely that the temper of society had changed, and thatsober citizens and their wives, who, twenty years before, would haveprated solemnly against a host of gay, enlivening or pretty customs asincompatible with American virtue, were now adopting these as rapidly asmoney could procure them--the brother and sister had remainedcomparatively unaffected by the consequences of the transformationscene. Certainly their home had. It was old-fashioned in its garnitureand its gentility. It spoke of a day, not so many years before, whenhigh thinking had led to blinking where domestic decoration wasconcerned, and people had bought ugly wooden and worsted things to livewith because only the things of the spirit seemed of real importance. Still time, with its marvellous touch, has often the gift of makingfurniture and upholstery, which were hideous when bought, lookinteresting and cosey when they have become old-fashioned. In this wayPauline Wilbur's parlor was a delightful relic of a day gone by. Therewas scarcely a pretty thing in it, as Wilbur himself well knew, yet, asa whole, it had an atmosphere--an atmosphere of simple unaffectedrefinement. Their domestic belongings had come to them from theirparents, and they had never had the means to replenish them. When, indue time, they had realized their artistic worthlessness, they had heldto them through affection, humorously conscious of the incongruity thattwo such modern individuals as themselves should be living in a domesticmuseum. Then, presto! friends had begun to congratulate them on theuniqueness of their establishment, and to express affection for it. Ithad become a favorite resort for many modern spirits--artists, literarymen, musicians, self-supporting women--and Pauline's oyster suppers, cooked in her grandmother's blazer, were still a stimulus to highthinking. 

So matters stood when Selma entered it as a bride. Her coming signifiedthe breaking up of the household and the establishment. Pauline hadthought that out in her clear brain over night since receiving Wilbur'stelegram. Wilbur must move into a modern house, and she into a modernflat. She would keep the very old things, such as the blazer and someandirons and a pair of candlesticks, for they were ancient enough to bereally artistic, but the furniture of the immediate past, her father andmother's generation, should be sold at auction. Wilbur and she must, ifonly for Selma's sake, become modern in material matters as well as intheir mental interests. 

Pauline proceeded to unfold this at the dinner-table that evening. Shehad heard in the meanwhile from her brother, the story of Selma'sdivorce and the explanation of his sudden marriage; and in consequence, she felt the more solicitous that her sister-in-law's new venture shouldbegin propitiously. It was agreed that Wilbur should make inquiries atonce about houses further uptown, and that his present lease from yearto year should not be renewed. She said to Selma:

"You have saved us from becoming an old-fashioned bachelor and maid. Ourfriends began to leave this neighborhood five years ago, and there is noone left. We are surrounded by boarding-houses and shops. We werecomfortable, and we were too busy to care. But it would never do for ayoung married couple to begin house-keeping here. You must have a brandnew house uptown, Selma. You must insist on that. Don't be alarmed, Wilbur. I know it will have to be small, but I noticed the other dayseveral blocks of new houses going up on the side streets west of thePark, which looked attractive and cheap. "

"I will look at them, " said Wilbur. "Since you seem determined not tolive with us, and we are obliged to move, we will follow the procession. But Selma and I could be happy anywhere. " He turned from his sister toher as he spoke with a proud, happy look. 

Selma said nothing to mar his confidence. She had no intention of livingeither with Pauline or in their present house, and she felt that hersister-in-law had shown good sense in recognizing that neither waspossible. She necessarily had vague ideas as to New York houses andlocations, but she had seen enough in her drive from the station tounderstand that it was a wonderful and decorative place. Although herexperience of Benham had taught her that some old things--such as Mrs. Hallett Taylor's gleanings from Europe--were desirable, she associatednew things with progress--especially American progress. Consequently theLittleton household possessions had puzzled her, for though she thoughtthem ugly, she was resolved not to commit herself too hastily. But nowthat Pauline had sounded a note of warning, the situation was clear. They had suffered themselves to fall behind the times, and she was to beher husband's good angel by helping him to catch up with them. And itwas evident that Pauline would be her ally. Selma for the first timeasked herself whether it might be that Wilbur was a little visionary. 

Meanwhile he was saying: "Pauline is right, Selma. I had already askedmyself if it would not be fairer to you to move uptown where we shouldbe in the van and in touch with what is going on. Pauline is gentlyhinting to you that you must not humor me as she has done, and let meeat bread and milk out of a bowl in this old curiosity shop, instead offollowing in the wake of fashion. She has spoiled me and now she desertsme at the critical moment of my life. Selma, you shall have the mostcharming modern house in New York within my means. It must be love in acottage, but the cottage shall have the latest improvements--hot andcold water, tiles, hygienic plumbing and dados. "

"Bravo!" said Pauline. "He says I have spoiled him, Selma. Perhaps Ihave. It will be your turn now. You will fail to convert him as I havefailed, and the world will be the better for it. There are too few menwho think noble thoughts and practice them, who are true to themselvesand the light which is in them through thick and thin. But you see, headmits himself that he needs to mix with the world a little more. Otherwise he is perfect. You know that perhaps, already, Selma. But Iwish to tell it to you before him. Take care of him, dear, won't you?"

"It was because I felt that his thoughts were nobler than most men'sthat I wished to marry him, " Selma replied, seraphically. "But I can seethat it is sensible to live where your friends live. I shall try not tospoil him, Pauline. " She was already conscious of a mission whichappealed to her. She had been content until now in the ardor of her loveto regard Wilbur as flawless--as in some respects superior to herself;but it was a gratification to her to detect this failing, and toperceive her opportunity for usefulness. Surely it was important for herhusband to be progressive and not merely a dreamer. 

Littleton looked from one to the other fondly. "Not many men are blessedwith the love of two such women, " he said. "I put myself in your hands. I bow my neck to the yoke. "

In New York in the early seventies the fashionable quarter lay betweenEighth and Fortieth Streets, bounded on either side by Fourth and SixthAvenues. Central Park was completed, but the region west of it was, fromthe social stand-point, still a wilderness, and Fifth Avenue in theneighborhood of Twenty-third Street was the centre of elegant sociallife. Selma took her first view of this brilliant street on thefollowing day on her way to hunt for houses in the outlying district. The roar and bustle of the city, which thrilled yet dazed her, seemedhere softened by the rows of tall, imposing residences in brown stone. Along the sunny sidewalks passed with jaunty tread an ever-hurryingprocession of stylishly clad men and women; and along the roadbed spedan array of private carriages conducted by coachmen in livery. It was abrilliant day, and New Yorkers were making the most of it. 

Selma had never seen such a sight before. Benham faded intoinsignificance in comparison. She was excited, and she gazed eagerly atthe spectacle. Yet her look, though absorbed, was stern. This sort ofthing was unlike anything American within her personal experience. Thisavenue of grand houses and this procession of fine individuals and finevehicles made her think of that small section of Benham into which shehad never been invited, and the thought affected her disagreeably. 

"Who are the people who live in these houses?" she asked, presently. 

Littleton had already told her that it was the most fashionable streetin the city. 

"Oh, the rich and prosperous. "

"Those who gamble in stocks, I suppose. " Selma wished to be assured thatthis was so. 

"Some of them, " said Littleton, with a laugh. "They belong to people whohave made money in various ways or have inherited it--our well-to-doclass, among them the first families in New York, and many of them ourbest citizens. "

"Are they friends of yours?"

Littleton laughed again. "A few--not many. Society here is divided intosets, and they are not in my set. I prefer mine, and fortunately, for Ican't afford to belong to theirs. "

"Oh!"

The frigidity and dryness of the exclamation Littleton ascribed toSelma's intuitive enmity to the vanities of life. 

"You mustn't pass judgment on them too hastily, " he said. "New York is awonderful place, and it's likely to shock you before you learn toappreciate what is interesting and fine here. I will tell you a secret, Selma. Every one likes to make money. Even clergymen feel it their dutyto accept a call from the congregation which offers the best salary, andprobing men of science do not hesitate to reap the harvest from awonderful invention. Yet it is the fashion with most of the people inthis country who possess little to prate about the wickedness ofmoney-getters and to think evil of the rich. That proceeds chiefly fromenvy, and it is sheer cant. The people of the United States are engagedin an eager struggle to advance themselves--to gain individualdistinction, comfort, success, and in New York to a greater extent thanin any other place can the capable man or woman sell his or her wares tothe best advantage--be they what they may, stocks, merchandise, law, medicine, pictures. The world pays well for the things it wants--and theworld is pretty just in the long run. If it doesn't like my designs, that will be because they're not worth buying. The great thing--thedifficult thing to guard against in the whirl of this great city, wherewe are all striving to get ahead--is not to sell one's self for money, not to sacrifice the thing worth doing for mere pecuniary advantage. It's the great temptation to some to do so, for only money can buy finehouses, and carriages and jewels--yes, and in a certain sense, socialpreferment. The problem is presented in a different form to every man. Some can grow rich honestly, and some have to remain poor in order to betrue to themselves. We may have to remain poor, Selma mia. " He spokegayly, as though that prospect did not disturb him in the least. 

"And we shall be just as good as the people who own these houses. " Shesaid it gravely, as if it were a declaration of principles, and at thesame moment her gaze was caught and disturbed by a pair of blithe, fashionably dressed young women gliding by her with the quiet, unconscious grace of good-breeding. She was inwardly aware, though shewould never acknowledge it by word or sign, that such people troubledher. More even than Mrs. Taylor had troubled her. They were differentfrom her and they tantalized her. 

At the same moment her husband was saying in reply, "Just as good, butnot necessarily any better. No--other things being equal--not so good. We mustn't deceive ourselves with that piece of cant. Some of them arefrivolous enough, and dishonest enough, heaven knows, but so there arefrivolous and dishonest people in every class. But there are many morewho endeavor to be good citizens--are good citizens, our best citizens. The possession of money gives them the opportunity to become arbiters ofmorals and taste, and to seek culture under the best advantages. Afterall, an accumulation of money represents brains and energy in some one. Look at this swell, " he continued, indicating an attractive lookingyoung man who was passing. "His grandfather was one of the ablest men inthe city--an intelligent, self-respecting, shrewd, industrious, public-spirited citizen who made a large fortune. The son has hadadvantages which I have never had, and I happen to know that he is afine fellow and a very able one. If it came to comparisons, I should beobliged to admit that he's a more ornamental member of society thanJones, Brown, or Robinson, and certainly no less useful. Do I shockyou--you sweet, unswerving little democrat of the democrats?"

It always pleased Selma to be called endearing names, and it suited herin her present frame of mind to be dubbed a democrat, for it did notsuit her to be painfully realizing that she was unable, at one brilliantswoop, to take her place as a leader in social influence. Somehow shehad expected to do this, despite her first difficulties at Benham, forshe had thought of New York as a place where, as the wife of Littleton, the architect, she would at once be a figure of importance. She shookher head and said, "It's hard to believe that these people are really inearnest; that they are serious in purpose and spirit. " Meanwhile she wasbeing haunted by the irritating reflection that her clothes and herbearing were inferior to those of the women she was passing. Secretlyshe was making a resolve to imitate them, though she believed that shedespised them. She put her hand through her husband's arm and added, almost fiercely, as she pressed closer to him, "We needn't trouble ourheads about them, Wilbur. We can get along without being rich andfashionable, you and I. In spite of what you say, I don't consider thissort of thing American. "

"Get along? Darling, I was merely trying to be just to them; to let yousee that they are not so black as they're painted. We will forget themforever. We have nothing in common with them. Get along? I feel that mylife will be a paradise living with you and trying to make someimpression on the life of this big, striving city. But as to its notbeing American to live like these people--well you know they areAmericans and that New York is the Mecca of the hard-fisted sons of toilfrom all over the country who have made money. But you're right, Selma. Those who go in for show and extravagance are not the bestAmericans--the Americans whom you and I believe in. Sometimes I getdiscouraged when I stop to think, and now I shall have you to keep mesteadfast to our faith. "

"Yes, Wilbur. And how far from here are we to live?"

"Oh, a mile or more. On some side street where the land is cheap and therent low. What do we care for that, Selma mia?"

CHAPTER II. 

Shortly before Selma Littleton took up her abode in New York, MissFlorence, or, as she was familiarly known, Miss Flossy Price, was aninhabitant of a New Jersey city. Her father was a second cousin ofMorton Price, whose family at that time was socially conspicuous infashionable New York society. Not aggressively conspicuous, as ultrafashionable people are to-day, by dint of frequent newspaperadvertisement, but in consequence of elegant, conservativerespectability, fortified by and cushioned on a huge income. In theearly seventies to know the Morton Prices was a social passport, and byno means every one socially ambitious knew them. Morton Price'sgreat-grandfather had been a peddler, his grandfather a tea merchant, his father a tea merchant and bank organizer, and he himself did nothingmercantile, but was a director in diverse institutions, representingtrusts or philantrophy, and was regarded by many, including himself, asthe embodiment of ornamental and admirable citizenship. He could talk bythe hour on the degeneracy of state and city politics and the evil deedsof Congress, and was, generally speaking, a conservative, fastidious, well-dressed, well-fed man, who had a winning way with women and a happyfaculty of looking wise and saying nothing rash in the presence of men. Some of the younger generation were apt, with the lack of reverencebelonging to youth, to speak of him covertly as "a stuffed club, " but noecho of this epithet had ever reached the ear of his cousin, DavidPrice, in New Jersey. For him, as for most of the world within a radiusof two hundred miles, he was above criticism and a monument of socialpower. 

David Price, Miss Flossy's father, was the president of a small andunprogressive but eminently solid bank. Respectable routine was hismotto, and he lived up to it, and, as a consequence, no more soundinstitution of the kind existed in his neighborhood. He and hisdirectors were slow to adopt innovations of any kind; they put stumblingblocks in the path of business convenience whenever they could; inshort, David Price in his humble way was a righteous, narrow, hide-boundretarder of progress and worshipper of established local custom. Therefore it was a constant source of surprise and worry to him that heshould have a progressive daughter. There were four other children, patterns of quiet, plodding conservatism, but--such is the irony offate--the youngest, prettiest, and his favorite, was an independent, opinionated young woman, who seemed to turn a deaf ear to paternal andmaternal advice of safest New Jersey type. In her father's words, shehad no reverence for any thing or any body, which was approximatelytrue, for she did not hesitate to speak disrespectfully even of the headof the house in New York. 

"Poppa, " she said one day, "Cousin Morton doesn't care for any of us alittle bit. I know what you're going to say, " she added; "that he sendsyou two turkeys every Thanksgiving. The last were terribly tough. I'msure he thinks that we never see turkeys here in New Jersey, and that heconsiders us poor relations and that we live in a hole. If one of usshould call on him, I know it would distress him awfully. He's right inthinking that this is a hole. Nothing ever happens here, and when Imarry I intend to live in New York. "

This was when she was seventeen. Her father was greatly shocked, especially as he suspected in his secret soul that the tirade was truein substance. He had been the recipient of Thanksgiving turkeys fornearly twenty years on the plea that they had been grown on the donor'sfarm in Westchester county, and he had seen fit to invite hisfellow-directors annually to dine off one of them as a modest noticethat he was on friendly terms with his aristocratic New York cousin. Butin all these twenty years turkeys had been the only medium ofintercourse between them. David Price, on the few occasions when he hadvisited New York, had not found it convenient to call. Once he hadwalked by on the other side of Fifth avenue and looked at the house, butshyness and the thought that he had no evening clothes in his valise hadrestrained him from ringing the doorbell. 

"You do your cousin Morton great injustice--great injustice, Florence, "he answered. "He never forgets to send the turkeys, and as to the restof your speech, I have only to say that it is very disrespectful andvery foolish. The next time I go to New York I will take you to call onyour cousins. "

"And what would I say to them? No thank you, poppa. " The young womanshook her head decisively, and then she added, "I'm not going to call onthem, until I'm fit to. There!"

The ambiguity of this remark gave Mr. Price the opportunity to say that, in view of her immediate shortcomings, it was a wise conclusion, but heknew what she really meant and was distressed. His feeling toward hiscousin, though mildly envious, did not extend to self-depreciation, norhad it served to undermine his faith in the innate dignity and worth ofNew Jersey family life. He could not only with a straight face, but witha kindling eye inveigh against the perils of New York fashionable life, and express gratification that no son or daughter of his had wandered sofar from the fold. It distressed him to think that Florence should becasting sheep's eyes at the flesh-pots of Gotham, and so failing toappreciate the blessings and safety of a quiet American home. 

Miss Flossy continued to entertain and to express opinions of her own, and as a result became socially interesting. At eighteen, by her beauty, her engaging frankness and lack of self-consciousness, she spread havocamong the young men of her native city, several of whom offered hermarriage. But marriage was far from her thoughts. Life seemed toointeresting and she wished to see the world. She was erect and alertlooking, with a compact figure of medium height, large brown eyes andrich red hair, and a laughing mouth; also an innocent demeanor, whichserved to give her, by moonlight, the effect of an angel. She succeededin visiting Bar Harbor, where she promptly became a bright particularstar among the galaxy of young women who at that period wereestablishing the reputation of the summer girl. She continued to be asummer girl for four seasons without injury to her own peace of mind. Atthe end of the fourth summer she appeared on close scrutiny to be alittle worn, and her innocent air seemed a trifle deliberate. Shereturned to her home in New Jersey in not quite her usual spirits. Infact she became pensive. She had seen the world, and lo! she found itstuffed with sawdust. She was ready to settle down, but the only manwith whom she would have been willing to settle had never asked her. Hewas the brother of one of the girls who had been forbidden by her motherto stay out in canoes with young men after nine at night. The rumor hadreached Flossy that this same mother had referred to her in "the fishpond" at Rodick's as "that dreadful girl. " It would have pleased herafter that to have wrung an offer of marriage from the son and heir, whoknew her cousins, the Morton Prices, and to whom she would have beenwilling to engage herself temporarily at all events. He was verydevoted; they stayed out in his canoe until past midnight; he wroteverses to her and told her his innermost thoughts; but he stopped there. He went away without committing himself, and she was left to chew thecud of reflection. It was bitter, not because she was in love with him, for she was not. In her heart she knew he bored her a little. But shewas piqued. Evidently he had been afraid to marry "that dreadful girl. "She was piqued and she was sad. She recognized that it was another caseof not being fit. When would she be fit? What was she to do in order tobecome fit--fit like the girl who was not allowed to stay on the waterafter nine o'clock? She had ceased to think of the young man, but theimage of his sister haunted her. How stylish she was, yet how simple andquiet! "I wonder, " thought Flossy to herself, "if I could ever becomelike her. " The reflection threw her into a brown study in which sheremained for weeks, and during which she refused the hand of a staid andrespectable townsman, who, in her father's words, was ready to take herwith all her follies. David Price was disappointed. He loved thisindependent daughter, and he had hopes that her demure and reticentdeportment signified that the effervescence of youth had evaporated. Butit was only an effort on Flossy's part to imitate the young man'ssister. 

At this juncture and just when she was bored and dispirited by theprocess, Gregory Williams appeared on the scene. Flossy met him at adancing party. He had a very tall collar, a very friendly, confident, and (toward her) devoted manner, and good looks. It was whispered amongthe girls that he was a banker from New York. He was obviously not overthirty, which was young for a banker, but so he presently describedhimself to Flossy with hints of impending prosperity. He spoke gliblyand picturesquely. He had a convincing eloquence of gesture--a wave ofthe hand which suggested energy and compelled confidence. He had pickedher out at once to be introduced to, and sympathy between them wasspeedily established. Her wearing, as a red-headed girl, a white horsein the form of a pin, in order to prevent the attention of the men towhom she talked from wandering, delighted him. He said to himself thathere was a girl after his own heart. He had admired her looks at theoutset, but he gazed at her now more critically. He danced every dancewith her, and they sat together at supper, apart from everybody else. Flossy's resolutions were swept away. That is, she had become in aninstant indifferent to the fact that the New York girl she had yearnedto imitate would not have made herself so conspicuous. Her excuse wasthat she could not help herself. It was a case of genuine, violentattraction, which she made no effort to straggle against. 

The attraction was violent on both sides. Gregory Williams was notseeking to be married. He had been, until within six months, a broker'sclerk, and had become a banker on the strength of ten thousand dollarsbequeathed to him by a grandmother. He and a clerk from another broker'soffice, J. Willett VanHorne, had recently formed a partnership asWilliams & VanHorne, Bankers and Dealers in Stocks and Bonds. He was notseeking to be married, but he intended to be married some day, and itwas no part of his scheme of life to deny himself anything he wished. Support a wife? Of course he could; and support her in the samegrandiose fashion which he had adopted for himself since he had begunbusiness on his own account. He had chosen as a philosophy of life thesmart paradox, which he enjoyed uttering, that he spent what he neededfirst and supplied the means later; and at the same time he let it beunderstood that the system worked wonderfully. He possessed unlimitedconfidence in himself, and though he was dimly aware that a very smallturn of the wheel of fortune in the wrong direction would ruin himfinancially, he chose to close his eyes to the possibilities of disasterand to assume a bold and important bearing before the world. He hadimplicit faith in his own special line of ability, and he appreciatedthe worth of his partner, VanHorne. He had joined forces with VanHornebecause he knew that he was the opposite of himself--that he was adelving, thorough, shrewd, keen office man--and able too. How genuinelyable Williams did not yet know. He himself was to be the showy partner, the originator of schemes and procurer of business, the brilliant manbefore the world. So there was some method in his madness. And with itall went a cheery, incisive, humorous point of view which was congenialand diverting to Flossy. 

He went away, but he came back once--twice--thrice in quick succession. On business, so he said casually to Mr. And Mrs. Price, but his languageto their daughter was a declaration of personal devotion. It remainedfor her to say whether she would marry him or no. Of one thing she wassure without need of reflection, that she loved him ardently. As aconsequence she surrendered at once, though, curiously enough, she wasconscious when she permitted him to kiss her with effusion that he wasnot the sort of man she had intended to marry--that he was not fit inher sense of the word. Yet she was determined to marry him, and from themoment their troth was plighted she found herself his eager and faithfulally, dreaming and scheming on their joint account. She would help himto succeed; they would conquer the world together; she would never doubthis ability to conquer it. And in time--yes, in time they would makeeven the Morton Prices notice them. 

And so after some bewildered opposition on the part of Mr. Price, whowas alternately appalled and fascinated by the magniloquent language ofhis would-be son-in-law, they were married. Flossy gave but a singlesign to her husband that she understood him and recognized what theyreally represented. It was one evening a few months after they had setup housekeeping while they were walking home from the theatre. They hadpreviously dined at Delmonico's, and the cost of the evening'sentertainment, including a bottle of champagne at dinner, their ticketsand a corsage bouquet of violets for Flossy, had been fifteen dollars. Flossy wore a resplendent theatre hat and fashionable cape--one of theseveral stylish costumes with which her husband had hastened to presenther, and Gregory was convoying her along the Avenue with the air of aman not averse to have the world recognize that they were a well set upand prosperous couple. Flossy had put her arm well inside his and wasdoing her best to help him produce the effect which he desired, when shesuddenly said:

"I wonder, Gregory, how long it will be before we're really anybody. Now, of course, we're only make believe swell. "

Gregory gave an amused laugh. "What a clever little woman! That's justwhat we are. We'll keep it a secret, though, and won't advertise it tothe world. "

"Mum's the word, " she replied, giving his arm a squeeze. "I only wishedyou to know that I was not being fooled; that I understood. "

Fate ordained that the Williamses and the Littletons should take housesside by side in the same block. It was a new block, and at first theywere the sole occupants. Williams bought his house, giving a mortgageback to the seller for all the man would accept, and obtaining a secondmortgage from a money lender in consideration of a higher rate ofinterest, for practically the remaining value. He furnished his houseornately from top to bottom in the latest fashion, incurring bills for aportion of the effects, and arranging to pay on the instalment planwhere he could not obtain full credit. His reasoning was convincing tohimself and did not alarm Flossy, who was glad to feel that they werethe owners of the house and attractive furniture. It was that the landwas sure to improve in value before the mortgage became due, and as forthe carpets and curtains and other outlays, a few points in the stockmarket would pay for them at any time. 

Wilbur Littleton did not possess the ready money to buy; consequently hetook a lease of his new house for three years, and paid promptly for thefurniture he bought, the selection of which was gradual. GregoryWilliams had a marvellous way of entering a shop and buying everythingwhich pleased his eye at one fell swoop, but Wilbur, who desired toaccomplish the best æsthetic effects possible consistent with hislimited means, trotted Selma from one shop to another before choosing. This process of selecting slowly the things with which they were to passtheir lives was a pleasure to him, and, as he supposed, to Selma. Shedid enjoy keenly at first beholding the enticing contents of the variousstores which they entered in the process of procuring wall-papers, carpets, and the other essentials for house-keeping. It was a revelationto her that such beautiful things existed, and her inclination was topurchase the most showy and the most costly articles. In the adornmentof her former home Babcock had given her a free hand. That is, hisdisposition had been to buy the finest things which the shopkeepers ofBenham called to his attention. She understood now that his taste andthe taste of Benham, and even her's, had been at fault, but she foundherself hampered now by a new and annoying limitation, the smallness oftheir means. Almost every thing was very expensive, and she was obligedto pass by the patterns and materials she desired to possess, and acceptarticles of a more sober and less engaging character. Many of these, tobe sure, were declared by Wilbur to be artistically charming and moresuitable than many which she preferred, but it would have suited herbetter to fix on the rich upholstery and solid furniture, which wereevidently the latest fashion in household decoration, rather than gomousing from place to place, only at last to pick up in the back cornerof some store this or that object which was both reasonably pretty andreasonably cheap. When it was all over Selma was pleased with the effectof her establishment, but she had eaten of the tree of knowledge. Shehad visited the New York shops. These, in her capacity of a God-fearingAmerican, she would have been ready to anathematize in a speech or in anewspaper article, but the memory of them haunted her imagination andleft her domestic yearnings not wholly satisfied. 

Wilbur Littleton's scheme of domestic life was essentially spiritual, and in the development of it he felt that he was consulting his wife'stastes and theories no less than his own. He knew that she understoodthat he was ambitious to make a name for himself as an architect; but tomake it only by virtue of work of a high order; that he was unwilling tobecome a time-server or to lower his professional standards merely tomake temporary progress, which in the end would mar a success worthhaving. He had no doubt that he had made this clear to her and that shesympathized with him. As a married man it was his desire and intentionnot to allow his interest in this ambition to interfere with theenjoyment of the new great happiness which had come into his life. Hewould be a professional recluse no longer. He would cast off his workwhen he left his office, and devote his evenings to the æstheticdelights of Selma's society. They would read aloud; he would tell herhis plans and ask her advice; they would go now and then to the theatre;and, in justice to her, they would occasionally entertain their friendsand accept invitations from them. With this outlook in mind he had madesuch an outlay as would render his home attractive and cosey--simple asbecame a couple just beginning life, yet the abode of a gentleman and alover of inspiring and pretty things. 

As has been mentioned, Littleton was a Unitarian, and one effect of hisfaith had been to make his point of view broad and straightforward. Hedetested hypocrisy and cant, subterfuge and self-delusion. He wascontent to let other people live according to their own lights withouttoo much distress on their account, but he was too honest and tooclear-headed to be able to deceive himself as to his own motives and hisown conduct. He had no intention to be morbid, but he saw clearly thatit was his privilege and his duty to be true to both his loves, his wifeand his profession, and that if he neglected either, he would be so farfalse to his best needs and aspirations. Yet he felt that for the momentit was incumbent on him to err on the side of devotion to his wife untilshe should become accustomed to her new surroundings. 

The problem of the proper arrangement and subdivision of life in a largecity and in these seething, modern times is perplexing to all of us. There are so many things we would like to do which we cannot; so manythings which we do against our wills. We are perpetually squinting athappiness, but just as we get a delightful vision before our eyes we arewhisked off by duty or ambition or the force of social momentum to try adifferent view. Consequently our perennial regret is apt to be that wehave seen our real interests and our real friends as in a panorama, fora fleeting moment, and then no more until the next time. For Littletonthis was less true than for most. His life was deep and stable ratherthan many-sided. To be sure his brain experienced, now and then, thedazing effects of trying to confront all the problems of the universeand adapt his architectural endeavors to his interpretation of them; andhe knew well the bewildering difficulties of the process of adjustingprofessional theories to the sterile conditions which workaday practiceoften presented. But this crowding of his mental canvas was all in theline of his life purpose. The days were too short, and sometimes lefthim perplexed and harassed by their rush; yet he was still pursuing thetenor of his way. The interest of marriage was not, therefore, in hiscase a fresh burden on a soul already laden with a variety of sidepursuits. He was neither socially nor philanthropically active; he wasnot a club man, nor an athletic enthusiast; he was on no committees; hevoted on election days, but he did not take an active part in politics. For Selma's sake all this must be changed; and he was glad toacknowledge that he owed it to himself as well as to her to widen hissympathies. 

As a first step in reform he began to leave his office daily at fiveinstead of six, and, on Saturdays, as soon after two as possible. For afew months these brands of time snatched from the furnace of hisprofessional ardor were devoted to the shopping relative tohouse-furnishing. When that was over, to walking with Selma; sometimesas a sheer round of exercise in company, sometimes to visit aprint-shop, exhibition of pictures, book-store, or other attraction ofthe hour. But the evening was for him the ideal portion of the day;when, after dinner was done, they made themselves comfortable in the newlibrary, their living room, and it became his privilege to read aloud toher or to compare ideas with her regarding books and pictures and whatwas going on in the world. It had been a dream of Littleton's that someday he would re-read consecutively the British poets, and as soon as thefurniture was all in place and the questions of choice of rugs andchairs and pictures had been settled by purchase, he proposed it as adefinite occupation whenever they had nothing else in view. It delightedhim that Selma received this suggestion with enthusiasm. Accordingly, they devoted their spare evenings to the undertaking, reading aloud inturn. Littleton's enunciation was clear and intelligent, and as a happylover he was in a mood to fit poetic thoughts to his own experience, andto utter them ardently. While he read, Selma knew that she was ever theheroine of his imagination, which was agreeable, and she recognizedbesides that his performance in itself was æsthetically attractive. Yetin spite of the personal tribute, Selma preferred the evenings when sheherself was the elocutionist. She enjoyed the sound of her own voice, and she enjoyed the emotions which her utterance of the rhythmic stanzasset coursing through her brain. It was obvious to her that Wilbur wascaptivated by her reading, and she delighted in giving herself up to thespirit of the text with the reservations appropriate to an enlightenedbut virtuous soul. For instance, in the case of Shelley, she gloried inhis soaring, but did not let herself forget that fire-worship was notpractical; in the case of Byron, though she yielded her senses to thespell of his passionate imagery, she reflected approvingly that she wasa married woman. 

But Littleton appreciated also that his wife should have the society ofothers beside himself. Pauline introduced her promptly to her own smallbut intelligent feminine circle, and pending Pauline's removal to aflat, the Saturday evening suppers were maintained at the oldestablishment. Here Selma made the acquaintance of her husband's and hissister's friends, both men and women, who dropped in often after theplay and without ceremony for a weekly interchange of thought andcomradeship. Selma looked forward to the first of these occasions withan eager curiosity. She expected a renewal of the Benham Institute, onlyin a more impressive form, as befitted a great literary centre; thatpapers would be read, original compositions recited, and manyinteresting people of both sexes perform according to their specialties. She confidently hoped to have the opportunity to declaim, "Oh, whyshould the spirit of mortal be proud?" "Curfew must not ring to-night, "or some other of her literary pieces. 

Therefore, it was almost a shock to her that the affair was so informal, and that the company seemed chiefly occupied in behaving gayly--inmaking sallies at each other's expense, which were greeted withmerriment. They seemed to her like a lot of children let loose fromschool. There were no exercises, and no allusion was made to theattainments of the various guests beyond an occasional word ofintroduction by Pauline or Wilbur; and this word was apt to be ofserio-comic import. Selma realized that among the fifteen people presentthere were representatives of various interesting crafts--writers, artists, a magazine editor, two critics of the stage, a prominentmusician, and a college professor--but none of them seemed to her to acta part or to have their accomplishments in evidence, as she would haveliked. Every one was very cordial to her, and appeared desirous torecognize her as a permanent member of their circle, but she could nothelp feeling disappointed at the absence of ceremony and formal events. There was no president or secretary, and presently the party went intothe dining-room and sat around a table, at either end of which Paulineand Wilbur presided over a blazer. Interest centred on the preparationof a rabbit and creamed oysters, and pleasant badinage flew from tongueto tongue. Selma found herself between the magazine editor and a large, powerfully built man with a broad, rotund, strong face, who wasintroduced to her as Dr. Page, and who was called George by every oneelse. He had arrived late, just as they were going in to supper, and hisappearance had been greeted with a murmur of satisfaction. He had placedhimself between Pauline and her, and he showed himself, to Selma'sthinking, one of the least dignified of the company. 

"My dear Mrs. Littleton, " he said, with a counterfeit of great gravity, "you are now witnessing an impressive example of the politeness of truefriendship. There are cynics who assert that the American people arelacking in courtesy, and cast in our teeth the superiority of Japanesemanners. I wish they were here to-night. There is not a singleindividual present, male or female, married or single, who does notsecretly cherish the amiable belief that he or she can cook things on ablazer better than any one else. And yet we abstain from criticism; weoffer no suggestions; we accept, without a murmur, the proportions ofcheese and beer and butter inflicted upon us by our hostess and herbrother, and are silent. We shall even become complimentary later. Canthe Japanese vie with this?"

The contrast between his eager, grave gaze, and the levity of his words, puzzled Selma. He looked interesting, but his speech seemed to hertrivial and unworthy of the occasion. Still she appreciated that shemust not be a spoil-sport, and that it was incumbent on her to resignherself to the situation, so she smiled gayly, and said: "I am the onlyone then not suffering from self-restraint. I never made a Welsh rabbit, nor cooked on a blazer. " Then, in her desire for more seriousconversation, she added: "Do you really think that we, as a people, areless polite than the Japanese?"

The doctor regarded her with solemn interest for an instant, as thoughhe were pondering the question. As a matter of fact, he was thinkingthat she was remarkably pretty. Then he put his finger on his lips, andin a hoarse whisper, said, "Sh! Be careful. If the editorial ear shouldcatch your proposition the editorial man would appropriate it. There!"he added, as her left-hand neighbor bent toward them in response to thesummons, "he has heard, and your opportunity to sell an idea to themagazine is lost. It is all very fine for him to protest that he hasheard nothing. That is a trick of his trade. Let us see now if he willagree to buy. If he refuses, it will be a clear case that he has heardand purloined it. Come, Dennison, here's a chance for a tenthousand-word symposium debate, 'Are we, as a nation, less polite thanthe Japanese?' We offer it for a hundred and fifty cash, and cheap atthe price. "

Mr. Dennison, who was a keen-eyed, quiet man, with a brown, closely-cutbeard, had paused in his occupation of buttering hot toast for theimpending rabbit, and was smiling quizzically. "If you have literarysecrets to dispose of, Mrs. Littleton, let me warn you against making aconfidant of Dr. Page. Had you spoken to me first, there is no knowingwhat I might have--"

"What did I tell you?" broke in the doctor. "A one hundred andfifty-dollar idea ruthlessly appropriated. These editors, theseeditors!"

It was tantalizing to Selma to be skirting the edge of themes she wouldhave enjoyed to hear treated seriously. She hoped that Mr. Dennisonwould inquire if she really wrote, and at least he would tell hersomething about his magazine and literary life in New York. But he tookup again his task of buttering toast, and sought to interest her inthat. Presently she was unable to resist the temptation of remarkingthat the editorship of a magazine must be one of the most interesting ofall occupations; but he looked at her with his quizzical smile, andanswered:

"Between you and me, Mrs. Littleton, I will confide to you that aconsiderable portion of the time it is a confounded bore. To tell thetruth, I much prefer to sit next to you and butter toast. "

This was depressing and puzzling to Selma; but after the consumption ofthe rabbit and the oysters there was some improvement in the generaltone of the conversation. Yet, not so far as she was concerned. Mr. Dennison neglected to confide to her the secrets of his prison house, and Dr. Page ruthlessly refused to discuss medicine, philosophy, or theJapanese. But here and there allusion was made by one or another of thecompany to something which had been done in the world of letters, orart, or music, which possessed merit or deserved discouragement. Whatwas said was uttered simply, often trenchantly and lightly, but never asa dogma, or with the solemnity which Mrs. Earle had been wont to impartto her opinions. Just as the party was about to break up, Dr. Pageapproached Selma and offered her his hand. "It is a great pleasure to meto have met you, " he said, looking into her face with his honest eyes. "A good wife was just what Wilbur needed to insure him happiness and afine career. His friends have great confidence in his ability, and weintrust him to you in the belief that the world will hear from him--andI, for one, shall be very grateful to you. "

He spoke now with evident feeling, and his manner suggested the desireto be her friend. Selma admired his large physique and felt theattraction of his searching gaze. 

"Perhaps he did need a wife, " she answered with an attempt at thesprightliness which he had laid aside. "I shall try not to let him betoo indifferent to practical considerations. "

CHAPTER III. 

"Who is Dr. Page?" asked Selma of her husband when they left the house. 

"One of our best friends, and one of the leading physicians in the city. The energy of that man is tireless. He is absorbed in his profession. The only respite he allows himself are these Saturday evenings, and hisdevotion to his little son who has hip disease. He told me to-night thathe had finished his day's work only just before he came in. What did youthink of him? He likes to tease. "

"Then he is married?"

"He is a widower. "

"He seems interested in you. He was good enough to say that he thoughtyou needed a wife. "

"Then he must have admired you, Selma. Poor fellow! I wish he might havethat happiness himself. I'll tell you a secret: He has desired to marryPauline for years. They are devoted friends--but until now that is all. His wife was an actress--a handsome creature. Two years after they weremarried she ran away with another man and left him. Left him with onelittle boy, a cripple, on whom he lavishes all the love of his bignature. "

"How dreadful!"

"Yes, it is a sad story. That was ten years ago. He was very young andthe woman was very beautiful. It has been the making of him, though, inone way. He had the pride and confidence of ability, but he lackedsympathy. His experience and the appealing presence of his son havedeveloped his nature and given him tenderness. He has not beenimbittered; he has simply become gentle. And how he works! He is alreadyfamous in his profession. "

"Does Pauline care for him?"

"I don't know her feelings. I am sure she is fond of him, and admireshim. I fancy, though, that she hesitates to renounce her own ambitions. As you are aware, she is greatly interested in her classes, and inmatters pertaining to the higher education of women. George Page knewher at the time of his marriage. I do not mean that he paid her seriousattention then, but he had the opportunity to ask her instead of theother. Now, when she has become absorbed in her life-work, she wouldnaturally decline to give it up unless she felt sure that she could notbe happy without him. "

"I would not marry him if I were she, " said Selma. "He has given hisbest to the other woman. He is the one at fault, not Pauline. Why shouldshe sacrifice her own career in order to console him?"

"She might love him sufficiently to be willing to do so, Selma. Lovemakes women blind to faults. But poor George was scarcely at fault. Itwas a misfortune. "

"He made his choice and was deceived. It would be weak of her to give upher own life merely because he is lonely. We modern women have too muchself-respect for that. Love is love, and it is not to be trifled with. "

"Yes, love is love, " murmured Littleton, "and I am happy in mine. "

"That is because neither of us has loved before, you foolish boy. But asto this evening, it wasn't at all what I expected. Are your friendsalways like that?"

Littleton laughed. "Did they seem to you frivolous and undignified, then?"

"Almost. They certainly said nothing serious. "

"It is their holiday--their evening out. They have to be serious duringthe rest of the week--busy with problems and cares, for they are a setof hard workers. The stress of life is so rigorous and constant here inNew York that we have learned not to take our pleasure sadly. When youbecome accustomed to their way you will realize that they are no lessserious at heart because they frolic now and then. "

Selma was silent a moment; then she said, "That reminds me; have youfound out about our next-door neighbors yet?"

"He is a banker named Williams, I believe. "

"I saw his wife pass the window this morning. She was beautifullydressed. They must be rich. "

"I dare say. "

"But they live in the same style of house as ours. "

"Bankers have mysterious ways of making money. We cannot compete withthose. "

"I suppose not. I was thinking that she had the same manner as some ofyour friends this evening, only more pronounced. She stopped to speak tosome one just in front of the house, so I could observe her. I shouldthink she was frivolous, but fascinating. That must be the New Yorkmanner, and, consequently, she may be very much in earnest. "

"It isn't given to every woman to be attractive all the time justbecause she looks in earnest, as it is to you, dearest. But you musn'tbe too severe on the others. "

"On the contrary, I think I shall like Mrs. Williams. She may teach usto be practical. You know that is what your friends would like to haveme help you to be, Wilbur. "

"Then they did talk a word or two of sense?"

"They said that. Do you think it is true that you are visionary?"

"It is your duty to tell me so, Selma, when you think it, just as I havetold you that we can afford to laugh now and then. Come, begin. "

"I haven't been your wife long enough yet. I shall know better by theend of another six months. "

A fortnight elapsed before Selma made the acquaintance of Mrs. GregoryWilliams. It was not a chance meeting. Flossy rang the bell deliberatelyone afternoon and was ushered in, thereby bridging over summarily theyawning chasm which may continue to exist for an indefinite periodbetween families in the same block who are waiting to be introduced. 

"I said to my husband last night, Mrs. Littleton, that it was ridiculousfor us to be living side by side without knowing one another, and that Iwas going to call. We moved in three weeks before you, so I'm the onewho ought to break the ice. Otherwise we might have stared at each otherblankly for three months, looked at each other sheepishly out of thecorner of our eyes for another three, half bowed for six months, andfinally, perhaps, reached the stage where we are now. Neighbors shouldbe neighborly, don't you think so?"

"Indeed I do. Of course I knew you by sight; and I felt I should like tomake your acquaintance. " Selma spoke with enthusiasm. Here was some onewhose social deftness was no less marked than Mrs. Hallett Taylor's, and, to her mind, more brilliant, yet whom she felt at once to becongenial. Though she perceived that her neighbor's clothes made her ownapparel seem dull, and was accordingly disposed to be on her guard, sherealized instinctively that she was attracted by the visitor. 

"That is very nice of you, " said Flossy. "I told myhusband--Gregory--the other day that I was sure you were somethingliterary--I mean Mr. Littleton, of course--and when he found out that hewas I said we must certainly cultivate you as an antidote to the bankingbusiness. Gregory's a banker. It must be delightful to plan houses. Thisroom is so pretty and tasteful. "

"It isn't wholly furnished yet. We are buying things by degrees, as wefind pieces which we like. "

"We bought all our things in two days at one fell swoop, " said Flossywith a gay laugh. "Gregory gave the dealers carte blanche. That's hisway, " she added with a touch of pride. "I dare say the house would havebeen prettier if we could have taken more time. However, it is all paidfor now. Some of it was bought on the instalment plan, but Gregorybought or sold something in stocks the next week which covered thefurniture and paid for a present for me of this besides, " she said, indicating her seal-skin cape. "Wasn't he a dear?"

Selma did not know precisely what the instalment plan was, but sheunderstood that Mr. Williams had been distinctly clever in his wife'sestimation. She perceived that Mrs. Williams had the same light, halfjocular manner displayed by Wilbur's friends, and that she spoke withbubbling, jaunty assurance, which was suggestive of frivolity. StillWilbur had intimated that this might be the New York manner, and clearlyher neighbor had come in a friendly spirit and was duly appreciative ofthe distinction of being literary. Besides, her ready disposition totalk about herself and her affairs seemed to Selma the sign of awillingness to be truly friendly. The seal-skin cape she wore was veryhandsome, and she was more conspicuously attired from head to foot thanany woman with whom Selma had ever conversed. She was pretty, too--atype of beauty less spiritual than her own--with piquant, eagerfeatures, laughing, restless gray eyes, and light hair which escapedfrom her coquettish bonnet in airy ringlets. If they had met three yearsearlier Selma would certainly have regarded her as an incarnation ofvolatility and servility to foreign fashions. Now, though she classedher promptly as a frivolous person, she regarded her with a keencuriosity not unmixed with self-distress, and the reflection came to herthat a little of the New York manner might perhaps be desirable when inNew York. 

"Yes, it's beautiful, " she replied, referring to the cape. 

"Gregory is always making me presents like that. He gave me thisbracelet yesterday. He saw it in the shop-window and went in and boughtit. Speaking of husbands, you won't mind my saying that I think Mr. Littleton is very distinguished looking? I often see him pass the windowin the morning. "

"Of course _I_ think so, " said Selma. "I suppose it would seem flat if Iwere to say that I admired Mr. Williams's appearance also. "

"The truth is no harm. Wouldn't it be nice if we should happen to becomefriends? We are the pioneers in this block, but I hear three otherhouses have been sold. I suppose you own your house?"

"I believe not. We have a lease of it. "

"That's a pity, because Gregory bought ours on a mortgage, thinking theland is sure to become more valuable. He hopes to be able to sell someday for a great deal more than he paid for it. May I ask where you livedbefore you were married?"

Selma told her briefly. 

"Then you are almost Western. I felt sure you weren't a New Yorker, andI didn't think you were from Boston. You have the Boston earnestexpression, but somehow you're different. You don't mind my analyzingyou, do you? That's a Boston habit by the way. But I'm not from Boston. I've lived all my life in New Jersey. So we are both strangers in NewYork. That is, I'm the same as a stranger, though my father is a cousinof the Morton Prices. We sent them wedding cards and they called one daywhen I was out. I shall return the call and find them out, and that willbe the last move on either side until Gregory does something remarkable. I'm rather glad I wasn't at home, because it would have been awkward. They wouldn't have known what to say to me, and they might have feltthat they ought to ask me to dinner, and I don't care to have them askme until they're obliged to. Do I shock you running on so about my ownaffairs?" Flossy asked, noticing Selma draw herself up sternly. 

"Oh no, I like that. I was only thinking that it was very strange ofyour cousins. You are as good as they, aren't you?"

"Mercy, no. We both know it, and that's what makes the situation soawkward. As Christians, they had to call on me, but I really think theyare justified in stopping there. Socially I'm nobody. "

"In this country we are all free and equal. "

"You're a dear--a delicious dear, " retorted Flossy, with a caressinglaugh. "There's something of the sort in the Declaration ofIndependence, but, as Gregory says, that was put in as a bluff toconsole salesladies. Was everybody equal in Benham, Mrs. Littleton?"

"Practically so, " said Selma, with an air of haughtiness, which wasevoked by her recollection of the group of houses on Benham's RiverDrive into which she had never been invited. "There were some people whowere richer than others, but that didn't make them better than any oneelse. "

"Well, in New York it's different. Of course, every body has the sameright to vote or to be elected President of the United States, butequality ends there. People here are either in society or out of it, andsociety itself is divided into sets. There's the conservativearistocratic set, the smart rapid set, the set which hasn't much money, but has Knickerbocker or other highly respectable ancestors, the newmillionaire set, the literary set, the intellectual philanthropic set, and so on, according to one's means or tastes. Each has its littlecircle which shades away into the others, and every now and then thereis a big entertainment to which they all go. "

"I see, " said Selma, coldly. 

"Now, to make it plain, I will confide to you in strictest confidencethat Gregory and I aren't yet really in any set. We are trying to get afooting and are holding on by our teeth to the fringe of the socialmerry-go-round. I wouldn't admit it to any one but you; but as you are astranger like myself and in the same block, I am glad to initiate youinto the customs of this part of the country, " Flossy gave a merry tossto her head which set her ringlets bobbing, and rose to go. 

"And in what set are your cousins?" asked Selma. 

"If you wish to hear about them, I shall have to sit down again. TheMorton-Prices belong to the ultra-conservative, solid, stupid, aristocratic set--the most dignified and august of all. They are almostas sacred as Hindoo gods, and some people would walk over red-hot coalsto gain admission to their house. And really, it's quite just in one waythat incense should be burnt before them. You mustn't look so disgusted, because there's some sense in it all. As Gregory says, it's best to lookthings squarely in the face. Most of the people in these different setsare somebodies because either their grandfathers or they have donesomething well--better than other people, and made money as aconsequence. And when a family has made money or won distinction by itsbrains and then has brushed its teeth twice a day religiously for twogenerations, the members of it, even though dull, are entitled torespect, don't you think so?"

Selma, who brushed her teeth but once a day, looked a little sharp atFlossy. 

"It makes money of too much importance and it establishes classdistinctions. I don't approve of such a condition of affairs at all. "

Flossy shrugged her shoulders. "I have never thought whether I approveof it or not. I am only telling you what exists. I don't deny that moneycounts for a great deal, for, as Gregory says, money is the measure ofsuccess. But money isn't everything. Brains count and refinement, andnice honorable ways of looking at things. Of course, I'm only tellingyou what my ambition is. People have different kinds of bees in theirbonnets. Some men have the presidential bee; I have the social bee. Ishould like to be recognized as a prominent member of the charmed circleon my own merits and show my cousins that I am really worthy of theirattention. There are a few who are able to be superior to that sort ofthing, who go on living their own lives attractively and finely, withoutthinking of society, and who suddenly wake up some day to findthemselves socially famous--to find that they have been taken up. That'sthe best way, but one requires to be the right sort of person and tohave a lot of moral courage. I can imagine it happening to you and yourhusband. But it would never happen to Gregory and me. We shall have tomake money and cut a dash in order to attract attention, and by-and-by, if we are persistent and clever enough, we may be recognized assomebodies, provided there is something original or interesting aboutus. There! I have told you my secret and shocked you into the bargain. Ireally must be going. But I'll tell you another secret first: It'll be apleasure to me to see you, if I may, because you look at thingsdifferently and haven't a social bee. I wish I were like that--reallylike it. But then, as Gregory would say, I shouldn't be myself, and notto be one's self is worse than anything else after all, isn't it? Youand your husband must come and dine with us soon. "

After Mrs. Williams had gone, Selma fell into a brown study. She hadlistened to sentiments of which she thoroughly disapproved, and whichwere at variance with all her theories and conceptions. What herfriendly, frivolous visitor had told her with engaging franknessoffended her conscience and patriotism. She did not choose to admit theexistence of these class-distinctions, and she knew that even if theydid exist, they could not possibly concern Wilbur and herself. Even Mrs. Williams had appreciated that Wilbur and her literary superiority putthem above and beyond the application of any snobbish, artificial, social measuring-tape. And yet Selma's brow was clouded. Her thoughtreverted to the row of stately houses on either side of Fifth Avenue, into none of which she had the right of free access, in spite of thefact that she was leading her life attractively and finely, withoutregard to society. She thought instinctively of Sodom and Gomorrah, andshe saw righteously with her mind's eye for a moment an angel with aflaming sword consigning to destruction these offending mansions andtheir owners as symbols of mammon and contraband to God. 

That evening she told Wilbur of Mrs. Williams's visit. "She's a bright, amusing person, and quite pretty. We took a fancy to each other. Butwhat do you suppose she said? She intimated that we haven't any socialposition. "

"Very kind of her, I'm sure. She must be a woman ofdiscrimination--likewise something of a character. "

"She's smart. So you think it's true?"

"What? About our social position? Ours is as good as theirs, I fancy. "

"Oh yes, Wilbur. She acknowledges that herself. She admires us both andshe thinks it fine that we don't care for that sort of thing. What shesaid was chiefly in connection with herself, but she intimated thatneither they, nor we, are the--er--equals of the people who live onFifth Avenue and thereabouts. She's a cousin of the Morton Prices, whoever they may be, and she declared perfectly frankly that they werebetter than she. Wasn't it funny?"

"You seem to have made considerable progress for one visit. "

"I like that, you know, Wilbur. I prefer people who are willing to tellme their real feelings at once. "

"Morton Price is one of the big bugs. His great grandfather was amongthe wise, shrewd pioneers in the commercial progress of the city. Thepresent generation are eminently respectable, very dignified, mildlyphilanthropic, somewhat self-indulgent, reasonably harmless, decidedlyornamental and rather dull. "

"But Mrs. Williams says that she will never be happy until her relationsand the people of that set are obliged to take notice of her, and thatshe and her husband are going to cut a dash to attract attention. It'sher secret. "

"The cat which she let out of the bag is a familiar one. She must beamusing, provided she is not vulgar. "

"I don't think she's vulgar, Wilbur. She wears gorgeous clothes, butthey're extremely pretty. She said that she called on me because shethought that we were literary, and that she desired an antidote to thebanker's business, which shows she isn't altogether worldly. She wishesus to dine with them soon. "

"That's neighborly. "

"Why was it, Wilbur, that you didn't buy our house instead of hiringit?"

"Because I hadn't money enough to pay for it. "

"The Williamses bought theirs. But I don't believe they paid for italtogether. She says her husband thinks the land will increase in value, and they hope some day to make money by the rise. I imagine Mr. Williamsmust be shrewd. "

"He's a business man. Probably he bought, and gave a mortgage back. Imight have done that, but we weren't sure we should like the location, and it isn't certain yet that fashion will move in just this direction. I have very little, and I preferred not to tie up everything in a housewe might not wish to keep. "

"I see. She appreciates that people may take us up any time. She thinksyou are distinguished looking. "

"If she isn't careful, I shall make you jealous, Selma. Was thereanything you didn't discuss?"

"I regard you as the peer of any Morton Price alive. Why aren't you?"

"Far be it from me to discourage such a wifely conclusion. Provided youthink so, I don't care for any one else's opinion. "

"But you agree with her. That is, you consider because people of thatsort don't invite us to their houses, they are better than we. "

"Nothing of the kind. But there's no use denying the existence of socialclasses in this city, and that, though I flatter myself you and I aretrying to make the most of our lives in accordance with the talents andmeans at our disposal, we are not and are not likely to become, for thepresent at any rate, socially prominent. That's what you have in mind, Ithink. I don't know those people; they don't know me. Consequently theydo not ask me to their beautiful and costly entertainments. Some day, perhaps, if I am very successful as an architect, we may come more incontact with them, and they will have a chance to discover what acharming wife I have. But from the point of view of society, yourneighbor Mrs. Williams is right. She evidently has a clear head on hershoulders and knows what she desires. You and I believe that we can getmore happiness out of life by pursuing the even tenor of our way in theposition in which we happen to find ourselves. "

"I don't understand it, " said Selma, shaking her head and looking intospace with her spiritual expression. "It troubles me. It isn't American. I didn't think such distinctions existed in this country. Is it all aquestion of money, then? Do intelligence and--er--purpose count fornothing?"

"My dear girl, it simply means that the people who are on top--thepeople who, by force of success, or ability, or money, are mostprominent in the community, associate together, and the world gives acertain prominence to their doings. Here, where fortunes have been madeso rapidly, and we have no formal aristocracy, money undoubtedly plays aconspicuous part in giving access to what is known as society. But it isonly an entering wedge. Money supplies the means to cultivate mannersand the right way of looking at things, and good society represents thebest manners and, on the whole, the best way of looking at things. "

"Yes. But you say that we don't belong to it. "

"We do in the broad, but not in the narrow sense. We have neither themeans nor the time to take part in fashionable society. Surely, Selma, you have no such ambition?"

"I? You know I disapprove of everything of the sort. It is like Europe. There's nothing American in it. "

"I don't know about that. The people concerned in it are Americans. If aman has made money there is no reason why he shouldn't build a handsomehouse, maintain a fine establishment, give his children the besteducational advantages, and choose his own friends. So the nextgeneration becomes more civilized. It isn't the best Americanism towaste one's time in pursuing frivolities and excessive luxury, as someof these people do; but there's nothing un-American in making the mostof one's opportunities. As I've said to you before, Selma, it's the wayin which one rises that's the important thing in the individualequation, and every man must choose for himself what that shall be. Myambition is to excel in my profession, and to mould my life to that endwithout neglecting my duties as a citizen or a husband. If, in the end, I win fame and fortune, so much the better. But there's no use inworrying because other people are more fashionable than we. "

"Of course. You speak as if you thought I was envious of them, Wilbur. What I don't understand is why such people should be allowed to exist inthis country. "

"We're a free people, Selma. I'm a good democrat, but you must agreethat the day-laborer in his muddy garb would not find himself at ease ina Fifth Avenue drawing-room. On that account shall we abolish thedrawing-room?"

"We are not day-laborers. "

"Not precisely; but we have our spurs to win. And, unlike some people inour respectable, but humble station, we have each other's love to giveus courage to fight the battle of life bravely. I had a fresh orderto-day--and I have bought tickets for to-night at the theatre. "

CHAPTER IV. 

Almost the first persons at the theatre on whom Selma's eyes rested werethe Gregory Williamses. They were in a box with two other people, andboth Flossy and her husband were talking with the festive air peculiarto those who are willing to be noticed and conscious that their wish isbeing gratified. Flossy wore a gay bonnet and a stylish frock, supplemented by a huge bunch of violets, and her husband's evening dressbetrayed a slight exaggeration of the prevailing fashion in respect tohis standing collar and necktie. Selma had never had a thorough look athim before, and she reflected that he was decidedly impressive andhandsome. His face was full and pleasant, his mustache large andgracefully curved, and his figure manly. His most distinguishingcharacteristic was a dignity of bearing uncommon in so young a man, suggesting that he carried, if not the destiny of republics on hisshoulders, at least, important financial secrets in his brain. The manand woman with them were almost elderly and gave the effect of beingstrangers to the city. They were Mr. And Mrs. Silas S. Parsons. Mr. Parsons was a prosperous Western business man, who now and then visitedNew York, and who had recently become a customer of Williams's. He haddealt in the office where Williams was a clerk, and, having taken afancy to him, was disposed to help the new firm. Gregory had invitedthem to dinner and to the theatre, by way of being attentive, and hadtaken a box instead of stalls, in order to make his civility asmagnificent as the occasion would permit. A box, besides being adelicate testimonial to his guest, would cause the audience to noticehim and his wife and to ask who they were. 

In the gradual development of the social appetite in this country acertain class has been evolved whose drawing-room is the floor of theleading theatres. Society consists for them chiefly in being presentoften at theatrical performances in sumptuous dress, not merely towitness the play, but to be participants in a social function whichenhances their self-esteem. To be looked at and to look on theseoccasions takes the place with them of balls and dinner parties. Theyare not theatregoers in the proper sense, but social aspirants, and theboxes and stalls are for them an arena in which for a price they canshow themselves in their finery and attractions, for lack of otheropportunities. 

Our theatres are now in the full blaze of this harmless appropriationfor quasi-ballroom uses. At the time when Selma was a New York bride themovement was in its infancy. The people who went to the theatre forspectacular purposes no less than to see the actors on the stage werecomparatively few in number. Still the device was practised, and fromthe very fact that it was not freely employed, was apt to dazzle theeyes of the uninitiated public more unreservedly than to-day. The sightof Mrs. Williams in a box, in the glory of her becoming frock and herviolets, caused even so stern a patriot and admirer of simplicity asSelma to seize her husband's arm and whisper:

"Look. " What is more she caught herself a moment later blushing withsatisfaction on account of the friendly bow which was bestowed on her. 

Wilbur Littleton's ambitions were so definite and congenial that thesight of his neighbors' splendor neither offended nor irritated him. Hedid not feel obliged to pass judgment on them while deriving amusementfrom their display, nor did he experience any qualms of regret that hewas not able to imitate them. He regarded Flossy and her husband withthe tolerant gaze of one content to allow other people to work out theirsalvation, without officious criticism, provided he were allowed thesame privilege, and ready to enjoy any features of the situation whichappealed to his sense of humor or to his human sympathy. Flossy's frank, open nod and ingenuous face won his favor at once, especially as heappreciated that she and Selma had found each other attractive, andthough he tabooed luxury and fashionable paraphernalia where he wasimmediately concerned, it occurred to him that this evidentlywide-awake, vivacious-looking couple might, as friends, introduce justthe right element of variety into their lives. He had no wish to be abanker himself, nor to hire boxes at the theatre, but he was disposed tomeet half-way these entertaining and gorgeous neighbors. 

Selma, in spite of her wish to watch the play, found her glancereturning again and again to the occupants of the box, though sheendeavored to dispose of the matter by remarking presently that shecould not understand why people should care to make themselves soconspicuous, particularly as the seats in the boxes were less desirablefor seeing the stage than their own. 

"We wouldn't care for it, but probably it's just what they like, " saidWilbur. "Some society reporter may notice them; in which case we shallsee in the Sunday newspaper that Mr. Gregory Williams and party occupieda private box at the Empire Theatre last Tuesday evening, which will beanother straw toward helping them to carry out their project ofattracting attention. I like the face of your new friend, my dear. Imean to say that she looks unaffected and honest, and as if she had asense of humor. With those three virtues a woman can afford to have somefaults. I suppose she has hers. "

Littleton felt that Selma was disposed to fancy her neighbor, but wasrestrained by conscientious scruples due to her dislike for societyconcerns. He had fallen in love with and married his wife because hebelieved her to be free from and superior to the petty weaknesses of thefeminine social creed; but though extremely proud of her uncompromisingstandards, he had begun to fear lest she might indulge her point of viewso far as to be unjust. Her scornful references from time to time tothose who had made money and occupied fine houses had wounded his ownsense of justice. He had endeavored to explain that virtue was not theexclusive prerogative of the noble-minded poor, and now he welcomed anopportunity of letting her realize from personal experience that societywas not so bad as it was painted. 

Selma returned Mrs. Williams's call during the week, but did not findher at home. A few days later arrived a note stamped with a purple andgold monogram inviting them to dinner. When the evening arrived theyfound only a party of four. A third couple had given out at the lastminute, so they were alone with their hosts. The Williams house in itsdecoration and upholstery was very different from their own. Thedrawing-room was bright with color. The furniture was covered with lightblue plush; there were blue and yellow curtains, gay cushions, and aprofusion of gilt ornamentation. A bear-skin, a show picture on aneasel, and a variety of florid bric-à-brac completed the brilliantaspect of the apartment. Selma reflected at once that that this was thesort of drawing-room which would have pleased her had she been given herhead and a full purse. It suggested her home at Benham refurnished bythe light of her later experience undimmed by the shadow of economy. Onthe way down to dinner she noticed in the corner of the hall a suit ofold armor, and she was able to perceive that the little room on one sideof the front door, which they learned subsequently was Mr. Williams'sden, contained Japanese curiosities. The dinner-table shone with glassand silver ware, and was lighted by four candles screened by small pinkshades. By the side of Flossy's plate and her own was a small bunch ofviolets, and there was a rosebud for each of the men. The dinner, whichwas elaborate, was served by two trig maids. There were champagne andfrozen pudding. Selma felt almost as if she were in fairy-land. She hadnever experienced anything just like this before; but her exactingconscience was kept at bay by the reflection that this must be a furthermanifestation of the New York manner, and her self-respect waspropitiated by the cordiality of her entertainers. The conversation wasbubbling and light-hearted on the part of both Mr. And Mrs. Williams. They kept up a running prattle on the current fads of the day, thetheatre, the doings of well-known social personages, and their ownhousehold possessions, which they naïvely called to the attention oftheir guests, that they might be admired. But Selma enjoyed more thanthe general conversation her talk with the master of the house, whopossessed all the friendly suavity of his wife and also the valuablemasculine trait of seeming to be utterly absorbed in any woman to whomhe was talking. Gregory had a great deal of manner and a confidentialfluency of style, which gave distinction even to commonplace remarks. His method did not condescend to nudging when he wished to note a point, but it fell only so far short of it as he thought social elegancerequired. His conversation presently drifted, or more properly speaking, flowed into a graphic and frank account of his own progress as a banker. He referred to past successful undertakings, descanted on his presentroseate responsibilities, and hinted sagely at impending operationswhich would eclipse in importance any in which he had hitherto beenengaged. In answer to Selma's questions he discoursed alluringlyconcerning the methods of the Stock Exchange, and gave her to understandthat for an intelligent and enterprising man speculation was the highroad to fortune. No doubt for fools and for people of mediocre or torpidabilities it was a dangerous trade; but for keen and bold intellectswhat pursuit offered such dazzling opportunities?

Selma listened, abhorrent yet fascinated. It worried her to be told thatwhat she had been accustomed to regard as gambling should be so quicklyand richly rewarded. Yet the fairy scene around her manifestly confirmedthe prosperous language of her host and left no room for doubt that herneighbors were making brilliant progress. Apparently, too, this businessof speculation and of vast combinations of railroad and other capital, the details of which were very vague to her, was, in his opinion, themost desirable and profitable of callings. 

"Do you know, " she said, "that I have been taught to believe that tospeculate in stocks is rather dreadful, and that the people of thecountry don't approve of it. " She spoke smilingly, for the leaven of theNew York manner was working, but she could not refrain from testifyingon behalf of righteousness. 

"The people of the country!" exclaimed Gregory, with a smile ofcomplacent amusement. "My dear Mrs. Littleton, you must not let yourselfbe deceived by the Sunday school, Fourth of July, legislative or otherpublic utterances of the American people. It isn't necessary to shout iton the house-tops, but I will confide to you that, whatever they maydeclaim or publish to the contrary, the American people are at heart anation of gamblers. They don't play little horses and other games inpublic for francs, like the French, for the law forbids it, but I don'tbelieve that any one, except we bankers and brokers, realizes how widelyexists the habit of playing the stock-market. Thousands of people, bigand little, sanctimonious and highly respectable, put up their marginsand reap their profits or their losses. Oh no, the country doesn'tapprove of it, especially those who lose. I assure you that the letterswhich pass through the post-office from the godly, freeborn voters inthe rural districts would tell an eloquent story concerning the wishesof the people of the country in regard to speculation. "

Flossy was rising from table as he finished, so he accompanied the closeof his statement with a sweeping bow which comported with his jauntydignity. 

"I am afraid you are a wicked man. You ought not to slander the Americanpeople like that, " Selma answered, pleased as she spoke at the lighttouch which she was able to impart to her speech. 

"It's true. Every word of it is true, " he said as she passed him. Headded in a low tone--"I would almost even venture to wager a pair ofgloves that at some time or other your husband has had a finger in thepie. "

"Never, " retorted Selma. 

"What is that Gregory is saying?" interrupted Flossy, putting her arminside Selma's. "I can see by his look that he has been plaguing you. "

"Yes, he has been trying to shatter my ideals, and now he is trying toinduce me to make an odious bet with him. "

"Don't, for you would be certain to lose. Gregory is in great lucknowadays. "

"That is evident, for he has had the good fortune to make theacquaintance of Mrs. Littleton, " said Williams gallantly. 

The two men were left alone with their cigars. After these were lighted, as if he were carrying out his previous train of thought, Gregoryremarked, oracularly, at the end of a puff: "Louisville and Nashville iscertain to sell higher. "

Littleton looked blank for a moment. He knew so little of stocks that atfirst he did not understand what was meant. Then he said, politely:"Indeed!"

"It is good for a ten-point rise in my opinion, " Williams continuedafter another puff. He was of a liberal nature, and was making a presentof this tip to his guest in the same spirit of hospitality as he hadproffered the dinner and the champagne. He was willing to take forgranted that Littleton, as a gentleman, would give him the order in casehe decided to buy, which would add another customer to his list. But hissuggestion was chiefly disinterested. 

"I'm afraid I know very little about such matters, " Littleton respondedwith a smile. "I never owned but ten shares of stock in my life. " Then, by way, perhaps, of showing that he was not indifferent to all the goodthings which the occasion afforded, he said, indicating a picture on theopposite wall: "That is a fine piece of color. "

Williams, having discharged his obligations as a host, was willing toexchange the stock-market as a topic for his own capacity as a lightningappreciator and purchaser of objects of art. 

"Yes, " he said, urbanely, "that is a good thing. I saw it in theshop-window, asked the price and bought it. I bought two other picturesat the same time. 'I'll take that, and that, and that, ' I said, pointingwith my cane. The dealer looked astonished. He was used, I suppose, tohaving people come in and look at a picture every day for a fortnightbefore deciding. When I like a thing I know it. The three cost meeighteen hundred dollars, and I paid for them within a week by a turn inthe market. "

"You were very fortunate, " said Littleton, who wished to seemsympathetic. 

Meanwhile the two wives had returned to the drawing-room arm in arm, andestablished themselves on one of those small sofas for two, constructedso that the sitters are face to face. They had taken a strong fancy toeach other, especially Flossy to Selma, and in the half hour whichfollowed they made rapid progress toward intimacy. Before they partedeach had agreed to call the other by her Christian name, and Selma hadconfided the story of her divorce. Flossy listened with absorbedinterest and murmured at the close:

"Who would have thought it? You look so pure and gentle and refined thata man must have been a brute to treat you like that. But you are happynow, thank goodness. You have a husband worthy of you. "

Each had a host of things still unsaid when Littleton and Williamsjoined them. 

"Well, my dear, " said Wilbur as they left the house, "that was a sort ofArabian Nights entertainment for us, wasn't it? A little barbaric, buthandsome and well intentioned. I hope it didn't shock you too much. "

"It struck me as very pleasant, Wilbur. I think I am beginning tounderstand New York a little better. Every thing costs so much here thatit seems necessary to make money, doesn't it? I don't see exactly howpoor people get along. Do you know, Mr. Williams wished to bet me a pairof gloves that you buy stocks sometimes. "

"He would have lost his bet. "

"So I told him at once. But he didn't seem to believe me. I was sure younever did. He appears to be very successful; but I let him see that Iknew it was gambling. You consider it gambling, don't you?"

"Not quite so bad as that. Some stock-brokers are gamblers; but theoccupation of buying and selling stocks for a commission is a wellrecognized and fashionable business. "

"Mr. Williams thinks that a great many Americans make money instocks--that we are gamblers as a nation. "

"I am, in my heart, of the same opinion. "

"Oh, Wilbur. I find you are not so good a patriot as I supposed. "

"I hate bunkum. "

"What is that?"

"Saying things for effect, and professing virtue which we do notpossess. "

Selma was silent a moment. "What does champagne cost a bottle?"

"About three dollars and a half. "

"Do you really think their house barbaric?"

"It certainly suggests to me heterogeneous barbaric splendor. Theybought their upholstery as they did their pictures, with free-handedself-confidence. Occasionally they made a brilliant shot, but oftenerthey never hit the target at all. "

"I think I like brighter colors than you do, Wilbur, " mused Selma. "Iused to consider things like that as wrong; but I suppose that wasbecause our fathers wished Europe to understand that we disapproved ofthe luxury of courts and the empty lives of the nobility. But if peoplehere with purpose have money, it would seem sensible to furnish theirhouses prettily. "

"Subject always to the crucifying canons of art, " laughed Littleton. "I'm glad you're coming round to my view, Selma. Only I deny the abilityof the free-born American, with the overflowing purse, to indulge hisnewly acquired taste for gorgeous effects without professionalassistance. "

"I suppose so. I can see that their house is crude, though I do thinkthat they have some handsome things. It must be interesting to walkthrough shops and say: 'I'll take that, ' just because it pleases you. "

During her first marriage Selma had found the problem of dollars andcents a simple one. The income of Lewis Babcock was always larger thanthe demands made upon it, and though she kept house and was familiarwith the domestic disbursements, questions of expenditure solvedthemselves readily. She had never been obliged to ask herself whetherthey could afford this or that outlay. Her husband had been only tooeager to give her anything she desired. Consideration of the cost ofthings had seemed to her beneath her notice, and as the concern of theproviding man rather than the thoughtful American wife and mother. Aftershe had been divorced the difficulty in supplying herself readily withmoney had been a dismaying incident of her single life. Dismayingbecause it had seemed to her a limitation unworthy of her aspirationsand abilities. She had married Littleton because she believed him herideal of what a man should be, but she had been glad that he would beable to support her and exempt her from the necessity of asking whatthings cost. 

By the end of their first year and a half of marriage, Selma realizedthat this necessity still stood, almost like a wolf at the door, betweenher and the free development of her desires and aspirations. New Yorkprices were appalling; the demands of life in New York still more so. They had started house-keeping on a more elaborate scale than she hadbeen used to in Benham. As Mrs. Babcock she had kept one hired girl; butin her new kitchen there were two servants, in deference to the desireof Littleton, who did not wish her to perform the manual work of theestablishment. Men rarely appreciate in advance to the full extent theextra cost of married life, and Littleton, though intending to beprudent, found his bills larger than he had expected. He was able to paythem promptly and without worry, but he was obliged to make evident toSelma that the margin over and above their carefully considered expenseswas very small. The task of watching the butcher's book and theprovision list, and thinking twice before making any new outlay, wassomething she had not bargained for. All through her early life as agirl, the question of money had been kept in the background by thesimplicity of her surroundings. In her country town at home they hadkept no servants. A woman relative had done the work, and she had beenfree to pursue her mental interests and devote herself to her father. She had thought then that the existence of domestic servants was an actof treason against the institutions of the country by those who keptthem. Yet she had accepted, with glee, the hired-girl whom Babcock hadprovided, satisfying her own democratic scruples by dubbing her "help, "and by occasionally offering her a book to read or catechising her as toher moral needs. There is probably no one in the civilized world moreproud of the possession of a domestic servant than the American womanwho has never had one, and no one more prompt to consign her to theobscurity of the kitchen after a feeble pretence at making her feel athome. Selma was delighted to have two instead of one, and, afterbeholding Mrs. Williams's trig maids, was eager to see her own arrayedin white caps and black alpaca dresses. Yet, though she had become keento cultivate the New York manner, and had succeeded in reconciling herconscience to the possession of beautiful things by people with apurpose, it irked her to feel that she was hampered in living up to hernew-found faith by the bugbear of a lean purse. She had expected, asWilbur's wife, to figure quickly and gracefully in the van of New Yorkintellectual and social progress. Instead, she was one among thousands, living in a new and undeveloped locality, unrecognized by the people ofwhom she read in the newspapers, and without opportunities fordisplaying her own individuality and talents. It depressed her to seethe long lines of houses, street after street, and to think that she wasmerely a unit, unknown by name, in this great sea of humanity--she, Selma Littleton, free-born American, conscious of virtue and power. Thismust not be; and she divined clearer and clearer every day that it neednot be if she had more money. 

It began to be annoying to her that Wilbur's professional progress wasnot more rapid. To be sure he had warned her that he could not hope toreach the front rank at once; that recognition must be gradual; and thathe must needs work slowly in order to do himself justice. She hadaccepted this chiefly as a manifestation of modesty, not doubting thatmany orders would be forthcoming, especially now that he had the newstimulus of her love and inspiration. Instead there had been no markedincrease in the number of his commissions; moreover he had beenunsuccessful in two out of three competitions for minor public buildingsfor which he had submitted designs. From both the pecuniary andprofessional point of view these failures had been a disappointment. Hewas in good spirits and obviously happy, and declared that he was doingas well as he could reasonably expect; yet on his discouraged days headmitted that the cost of retaining his draughtsmen was a drain on theprofit side of his ledger. 

In contrast with this the prosperity of her neighbors the Williamses wasa little hard to bear. The sudden friendship developed into neighborlyintimacy, and she and Flossy saw much of each other, dropping infamiliarly, and often walking and shopping together. The two men were onsufficiently cordial terms, each being tolerant of the other'slimitations, and seeking to recognize his good points for the sake ofthe bond between their wives. The return dinner was duly given, andSelma, hopeless of imitating the barbaric splendor, sought refuge in thereflection that the æsthetic and intellectual atmosphere of her tablewould atone for the lack of material magnificence, and limited herefforts to a few minor details such as providing candles with coloredshades and some bonbon dishes. It was plain that Flossy admired herbecause she recognized her to be a fine and superior soul, and theappreciation of this served to make it more easy not to repine at thedifference between their entertainments. Still the constant acquisitionof pretty things by her frank and engaging friend was an ordeal whichonly a soul endowed with high, stern democratic faith and purpose couldhope to endure with equanimity. Flossy bought new adornments for herhouse and her person with an amiable lavishness which required noconfession to demonstrate that her husband was making money. She madethe confession, though, from time to time with a bubbling pride, neversuspecting that it could harass or tempt her spiritual looking friend. She prattled artlessly of theatre parties followed by a supper at one ofthe fashionable restaurants, and of new acquaintances whom sheentertained, and through whom her social circle was enlarged, withoutdivining that the sprightly narration was a thorn in the flesh of herhearer. Selma was capricious in her reception of these reports ofprogress. At times she listened to them with grave, cold eyes, whichFlossy took for signals of noble disdain and sought to deprecate bywooing promises to be less worldly. At others she asked questions with afeverish, searching curiosity, which stimulated Mrs. Williams's free andindependent style into running commentaries on the current course ofsocial events and the doings and idiosyncracies of contemporary leadersof fashion whom she had viewed from afar. One afternoon Selma saw fromher window Flossy and her husband drive jubilantly away in a high cartwith yellow wheels drawn by a sleek cob, and at the same moment shebecame definitely aware that her draught from the cup of life had abitter taste. Why should these people drive in their own vehicle ratherthan she? It seemed clear to her that Wilbur could not be making thebest use of his talents, and that she had both a grievance against himand a sacred duty to perform in his and her own behalf. Justice andself-respect demanded that their mutual light should no longer be hidunder a bushel. 

CHAPTER V. 

Pauline Littleton was now established in her new lodgings. Having beenfreed by her brother's marriage from the responsibilities of ahousewife, she was able to concentrate her attention on the work inwhich she was interested. Her classes absorbed a large portion of hertime. The remainder was devoted to writing to girls in other cities whosought her advice in regard to courses of study, and to correspondence, consultation, and committee meetings with a group of women in New Yorkand elsewhere, who like herself were engrossed in educational matters. She was glad to have the additional time thus afforded her for pursuingher own tastes, and the days seemed too short for what she wished toaccomplish. She occupied two pleasant rooms within easy walking distanceof her brother's house. Her classes took her from home four days in theweek, and two mornings in every seven were spent at her desk with herbooks and papers, in the agreeable labor of planning and correspondence. 

Naturally one of her chief desires was to be on loving terms with herbrother's wife, and to do everything in her power to add to Selma'shappiness. She summoned her women friends to meet her sister-in-law atafternoon tea. All of these called on the bride, and some of theminvited her to their houses. They were busy women like Pauline herself, intent in their several ways on their vocations or avocations. They weredisposed to extend the right hand of fellowship to Mrs. Littleton, whomthey without exception regarded as interesting in appearance, but theyhad no leisure for immediate intimacy with her. Having been introducedto her and having scheduled her in their minds as a new and desirableacquaintance, they went their ways, trusting chiefly to time to renewthe meeting and to supply the evidence as to the stranger's socialvalue. Busy people in a large city are obliged to argue that new-comersshould win their spurs, and that great minds, valuable opinions, andmoving social graces are never crushed by inhumanity, but are certainsooner or later to gain recognition. Therefore after being very cordialand expressing the hope of seeing more of her in the future, every onedeparted and left Selma to her duties and her opportunities asLittleton's wife, without having the courtesy to indicate that theyconsidered her a superior woman. 

Pauline regarded this behavior on the part of her friends as normal, andhaving done her social duty in the afternoon tea line, without asuspicion that Selma was disappointed by the experience, she gaveherself up to the congenial undertaking of becoming intimate with hersister-in-law. She ascribed Selma's reserve, and cold, serious mannerpartly to shyness due to her new surroundings, and partly to thespiritual rigor of the puritan conscience and point of view. She hadoften been told that individuals of this temperament possessed moredepth of character than more emotional and socially facile people, andshe was prepared to woo. In comparison with Wilbur, Pauline wasaccustomed to regard herself as a practical and easy-going soul, but shewas essentially a woman of fine and vigorous moral and mental purpose. Like many of her associates in active life, however, she had become toooccupied with concrete possibilities to be able to give much thought toher own soul anatomy, and she was glad to look up to her brother's wifeas a spiritual superior and to recognize that the burden lay on herselfto demonstrate her own worthiness to be admitted to close intimacy onequal terms. Wilbur was to her a creature of light, and she had no doubtthat his wife was of the same ethereal composition. 

Pauline was glad, too, of the opportunity really to know a countrywomanof a type so different from her own friends. She, like Wilbur, had heardall her life of these interesting and inspiring beings; intense, marvellously capable, peerless, free-born creatures panoplied inchastity and endowed with congenital mental power and bodily charms, whowere able to cook, educate children, control society and writeliterature in the course of the day's employment. The newspapers andpopular opinion had given her to understand that these were the trueAmericans, and caused her to ask herself whether the circle to which sheherself belonged was not retrograde from a nobler ideal. In what way shedid not precisely understand, except that she and her friends did notaltogether disdain nice social usages and conventional womanly ways. But, nevertheless, the impression had remained in her mind that she mustbe at fault somehow, and it interested her that she would now be able tounderstand wherein she was inferior. 

She went to see Selma as often as she could, and encouraged her to callat her lodgings on the mornings when she was at home, expecting that itmight please her sister-in-law to become familiar with the buddingeducational enterprises, and that thus a fresh bond of sympathy would beestablished between them. Selma presented herself three or four times inthe course of the next three months, and on the first occasion expressedgratifying appreciation of the cosiness of the new lodgings. 

"I almost envy you, " she said, "your freedom to live your own life anddo just what you like. It must be delightful away up here where you cansee over the tops of the houses and almost touch the sky, and there isno one to disturb the current of your thoughts. It must be a gloriousplace to work and write. I shall ask you to let me come up heresometimes when I wish to be alone with my own ideas. "

"As often as you like. You shall have a pass key. "

"I should think, " said Selma, continuing to gaze, with her far awaylook, over the vista of roofs which the top story of the apartment housecommanded, "that you would be a great deal happier than if you hadmarried him. "

The pause which ensued caused her to look round, and add jauntily, "Ihave heard, you know, about Dr. Page. "

A wave of crimson spread over Pauline's face--the crimson of woundedsurprise, which froze Selma's genial intentions to the core. 

"I didn't think you'd mind talking about it, " she said stiffly. 

"There's nothing to talk about. Since you have mentioned it, Dr. Page isa dear friend of mine, and will always continue to be, I hope. "

"Oh, I knew you were nothing but friends now, " Selma answered. She feltwounded in her turn. She had come with the wish to be gracious andcompanionable, and it had seemed to her a happy thought to congratulatePauline on the wisdom of her decision. She did not like people who werenot ready to be communicative and discuss their intimate concerns. 

The episode impaired the success of the first morning visit. At thenext, which occurred a fortnight later, Pauline announced that she had apiece of interesting news. 

"Do you know a Mr. Joel Flagg in Benham?"

"I know who he is, " said Selma. "I have met his daughter. "

"It seems he has made a fortune in oil and real estate, and is desirousto build a college for women in memory of his mother, Sarah Wetmore. Oneof my friends has just received a letter from a Mrs. Hallett Taylor, towhom Mr. Flagg appears to have applied for counsel, and who wishes someof us who are interested in educational matters to serve as an advisorycommittee. Probably you know Mrs. Taylor too?"

"Oh yes. I have been at her house, and I served with her on thecommittee which awarded Wilbur the church. "

"Why, then you are the very person to tell us all about her. I think Iremember now having heard Wilbur mention her name. "

"Wilbur fancied her, I believe. "

"Your tone rather implies that you did not. You must tell me everythingyou know. My friend has corresponded with her before in regard to someartistic matters, but she has never met her. Her letter suggests alady. "

"I dare say you would like Mrs. Taylor, " said Selma, gravely. "She isattractive, I suppose, and seemed to know more or less about Europeanart and pictures, but we in Benham didn't consider her exactly anAmerican. If you really wish to know my opinion, I think that she wastoo exclusive a person to have fine ideas. "

"That's a pity. "

"If she lived in New York she would like to be one of those societyladies who live on Fifth Avenue; only she hasn't really any conceptionof what true elegance is. Her house there, except for the ornaments shehad bought abroad, was not so well furnished as the one I lived in. Iwonder what she would think if she could look into the drawing-room ofmy friend Mrs. Williams. "

"I see, " said Pauline, though in truth she was puzzled. "I am sorry ifshe is a fine lady, but people like that, when they become interested, are often excellent workers. It is a noble gift of Mr. Flagg's--$500, 000as a foundation fund. He's a good American at all events. Wilbur mustcertainly compete for the buildings, and his having first met you thereought to be an inspiration to him to do fine work. "

Selma had been glad of the opportunity to criticise Mrs. Hallett Taylor, whom she had learned, by the light of her superior social knowledge, toregard as an unimportant person. Yet she had been conscious of arighteous impulse in saying what she thought of her. She knew that shehad never liked Mrs. Taylor, and she was not pleased to hear that Mr. Flagg had selected her from among the women of Benham to superintend theadministration of his splendid gift. Benham had come to seem to herremote and primitive, yet she preferred, and was in the mood, to thinkthat it represented the principles which were dear to her, and that shehad been appreciated there far better than in her present sphere. Shewas still tied to Benham by correspondence with Mrs. Earle. Selma hadwritten at once to explain her sudden departure, and letters passedbetween them at intervals of a few weeks--letters on Selma's part fluentwith dazzled metropolitan condescension, yet containing every now andthen a stern charge against her new fellow-citizens on the score oflevity and worldliness. 

The donation for the establishment of Wetmore College was made shortlyafter another institution for the education of women in which Paulinewas interested--Everdean College--had been opened to students. Thenumber of applicants for admission to Everdean had been larger than theauthorities had anticipated, and Pauline, who had been one of thepromoters and most active workers in raising funds for and supervisingthe construction of this labor of love, was jubilant over the outlook, and busy in regard to a variety of new matters presented for solution bythe suddenly evolved needs of the situation. Among these was theacquisition of two or three new women instructors; and it occurred toPauline at once that Selma might know of some desirable candidate. Selmaappeared to manifest but little interest in this inquiry at the time, but a few months subsequent to their conversation in regard to Mrs. Taylor she presented herself at Pauline's rooms one morning with theannouncement that she had found some one. Pauline, who was busy at herdesk, asked permission to finish a letter before listening; so there wassilence for a few minutes, and Selma, who wore a new costume of a morefashionable guise than her last, reflected while she waited that thedetails of such work as occupied her sister-in-law must be tedious. Indeed, she had begun to entertain of late a sort of contempt for thedeliberate, delving processes of the Littletons. She was inclined to askherself if Wilbur and Pauline were not both plodders. Her own idea ofdoing things was to do them quickly and brilliantly, arriving atconclusions, as became an American, with prompt energy and despatch. Itseemed to her that Wilbur, in his work, was slow and elaborate, disposedto hesitate and refine instead of producing boldly and immediately. Andhis sister, with her studies and letter-writing, suggested the samewearisome tendency. Why should not Wilbur, in his line, act with theconfident enterprise and capacity to produce immediate, ostensibleresults which their neighbor, Gregory Williams, displayed? As forPauline, of course she had not Wilbur's talent and could not, perhaps, be expected to shine conspicuously, but surely she might make more ofherself if only she would cease to spend so much time in details andcogitation, with nothing tangible to show for her labor. Selmaremembered her own experience as a small school teacher, and herthankfulness at her escape from a petty task unworthy of hercapabilities, and she smiled scornfully to herself, as she sat waiting, at what she regarded Pauline's willingness to spend her energies in suchinconspicuous, self-effacing work. Indeed, when Pauline had finished herletter and announced that she was now entirely at leisure, Selma feltimpelled to remark:

"I should think, Pauline, that you would give a course of lectures oneducation. We should be glad to have them at our house, and your friendsought to be able to dispose of a great many tickets. " Such a thing hadnever occurred to Selma until this moment, but it seemed to her, as sheheard her own words, a brilliant suggestion, both as a step forward forPauline and a social opportunity for herself. 

"On education? My dear Selma, you have no idea of the depths of myignorance. Education is an enormous subject, and I am just beginning torealize how little I know concerning it. People have talked and writtenabout education enough. What we need and what some of us are trying todo is to study statistics and observe results. I am very much obliged toyou, but I should only make myself a laughing-stock. "

"I don't think you would. You have spent a great deal of time inlearning about education, and you must have interesting things to say. You are too modest and--don't you think it may be that you are not quiteenterprising enough? A course of lectures would call public attention toyou, and you would get ahead faster, perhaps. I think that you andWilbur are both inclined to hide your light under a bushel. It seems tome that one can be conscientious and live up to one's ideals withoutneglecting one's opportunities. "

"The difficulty is, " said Pauline, with a laugh, "that I shouldn'tregard it as an opportunity, and I am sure it wouldn't help me to getahead, as you call it, with the people I desire to impress, to giveafternoon tea or women-club lectures. I don't know enough to lectureeffectively. As to enterprise, I am busy from morning until night. Whatmore can a woman do? You mustn't hurry Wilbur, Selma. All he needs istime to let the world see his light. "

"Very likely. Of course, if you don't consider that you know enoughthere is nothing to be said. I thought of it because I used to lecturein Benham, at the Benham Institute, and I am sure it helped me to getahead. I used to think a great deal about educational matters, andperhaps I will set you the example by giving some lectures myself. "

"That would be very interesting. If a person has new ideas and hasconfidence in them, it is natural to wish to let the world hear them. "

Pauline spoke amiably, but she was disposed to regard her sister withmore critical eyes. She felt no annoyance at the patronizing tone towardherself, but the reference to Wilbur made her blood rebel. Still shecould not bear to harbor distrust against that grave face with itsdelicate beauty and spiritualized air, which was becomingly accommodatedto metropolitan conditions by a more festive bonnet than any which sheherself owned. Yet she noticed that the thin lips had an expression ofdiscontent, and she wondered why. 

Recurring to the errand on which she had come, Selma explained that shehad just received a letter from Benham--from her friend, Mrs. MargaretRodney Earle, an authoress and a promulgator of advanced and originalideas in respect to the cause of womanhood, asking if she happened toknow of an opening for a gifted young lady in any branch of intellectualwork. 

"I thought at once of Everdean, " said Selma, "and have come to give youthe opportunity of securing her. "

Pauline expressed her thanks cordially, and inquired if Mrs. Earle hadreferred to the candidate's experience or special fitness for the dutiesof the position. 

"She writes that she is very clever and gifted. I did not bring theletter with me, but I think Mrs. Earle's language was that Miss Baileywill perform brilliantly any duties which may be intrusted to her. "

"That is rather general, " said Pauline. "I am sorry that she didn'tspecify what Miss Bailey's education has been, and whether she hastaught elsewhere. "

"Mrs. Earle wouldn't have recommended her if she hadn't felt sure thatshe was well educated. I remember seeing her at the Benham Institute onone of the last occasions when I was present. She delivered a whistlingsolo which every one thought clever and melodious. "

"I dare say she is just the person we are looking for, " said Pauline, leniently. "It happens that Mrs. Grainger--my friend to whom Mrs. Taylorwrote concerning Mr. Flagg's gift--is to make Mrs. Taylor a visit atBenham next week, in order to consider the steps to be taken in regardto Wetmore College. She and Miss Bailey can arrange to meet, and thatwill save Miss Bailey the expense of a journey to New York, at thepossible risk of disappointment. "

"I thought, " said Selma, "that you would consider yourselves fortunateto secure her services. "

"I dare say we shall be very fortunate, Selma. But we cannot engage herwithout seeing her and testing her qualifications. "

Selma made no further demur at the delay, but she was obviouslysurprised and piqued that her offer should be treated in this elaboratefashion. She was obliged to acknowledge to herself that she could notreasonably expect Pauline to make a definite decision without furtherinquiry, but she had expected to be able to report to Mrs. Earle thatthe matter was as good as settled--that, if Miss Bailey would give a fewparticulars as to her accomplishments, the position would be hers. Surely she and Mrs. Earle were qualified to choose a school-teacher. Here was another instance of the Littleton tendency to waste time onunimportant details. She reasoned that a woman with more wide-awakeperceptions would have recognized the opportunity as unusual, and wouldhave snapped up Miss Bailey on the spot. 

The sequel was more serious. Neither Selma nor Pauline spoke of thematter for a month. Then it was broached by Pauline, who wrote a fewlines to the effect that she was sorry to report that the authorities ofEverdean, after investigation, had concluded not to engage the servicesof Miss Bailey as instructor. When Selma read the note her cheeks burnedwith resentment. She regarded the decision as an affront. Pauline dinedwith them on the evening of that day, and at table Selma was cold andformal. When the two women were alone, Selma said at once, with anattempt at calmness:

"What fault do you find with my candidate?"

"I think it possible that she might have been satisfactory from the merepoint of scholarship, " judicially answered Pauline, who did not realizein the least that her sister-in-law was offended, "though Mrs. Graingerstopped short of close inquiry on that score, for the reason that MissBailey failed to satisfy our requirements in another respect. I don'twish to imply by what I am going to say anything against her character, or her capacity for usefulness as a teacher under certain conditions, but I confide to you frankly, Selma, that we make it an absolutecondition in the choice of instructors for our students that they shouldbe first of all lady-like in thought and speech, and here it was thatshe fell short. Of course I have never seen Miss Bailey, but Mrs. Grainger reported that she was--er--impossible. "

"You mean that your friend does not consider her a lady? She isn't asociety lady, but I did not suppose an American girl would be refused aposition as a teacher for such a reason as that. "

"A lady is a lady, whether she is what you term a society lady or not. Mrs. Grainger told us that Miss Bailey's appearance and manners did notsuggest the womanly refinement which we deem indispensable in those whoare to teach our college students. Five years ago only scholarship andcleverness were demanded, but experience has taught the educators ofwomen that this was a mistake. "

"I presume, " said Selma, with dramatic scorn, "that Mrs. Hallett Taylordisapproved of her. I thought there would be some such outcome when Iheard that she was to be consulted. "

"Mrs. Taylor's name was not mentioned, " answered Pauline, inastonishment. "I had no idea, Selma, that you regarded this as apersonal matter. You told me that you had seen Miss Bailey but once. "

"I am interested in her because--because I do not like to see a cruelwrong done. You do not understand her. You allow a prejudice, aclass-prejudice, to interfere with her career and the opportunity todisplay her abilities. You should have trusted Mrs. Earle, Pauline, Sheis my friend, and she recommended Miss Bailey because she believed inher. It is a reflection on me and my friends to intimate that she is nota lady. "

She bent forward from the sofa with her hands clasped and her lipstightly compressed. For a moment she gazed angrily at the bewilderedPauline, then, as though she had suddenly bethought her of her New Yorkmanner, she drew herself up and said with a forced laugh--"If the reasonyou give were not so ridiculous, I should be seriously offended. "

"Offended! Offended with Pauline, " exclaimed Littleton, who entered theroom at the moment. "It cannot be that my two guardian angels have had afalling out. " He looked from one to the other brightly as if it werereally a joke. 

"It is nothing, " said Selma. 

"It seems, " said Pauline with fervor, "that I have unintentionally hurtSelma's feelings. It is the last thing in the world I wish to do, and Itrust that when she thinks the matter over she will realize that I aminnocent. I am very, very sorry. "

CHAPTER VI. 

"Why don't you follow the advice of Mr. Williams and buy some shares ofstock?" asked Selma lightly, yet coaxingly, of her husband one day inthe third year of their marriage. The Williamses were dining with themat the time, and a statement by Gregory, not altogether without motive, as to the profits made by several people who had taken his advice, called forth the question. He and his wife were amiably inclined towardthe Littletons, and were proud of the acquaintance. Among their otherfriends they boasted of the delightful excursions into the literarycircle which the intimacy afforded them. They both would have beenpleased to see their neighbors more amply provided with money, andGregory, partly at the instance of Flossy, partly from sheer good-humorin order to give a deserving but impractical fellow a chance to betterhimself, threw out tips from time to time--crumbs from the rich man'stable, but bestowed in a friendly spirit. Whenever they were let fall, Selma would look at Wilbur hoping for a sign of interest, but hithertothey had evoked merely a smile of refusal or had been utterly ignored. 

Her own question had been put on several occasions, both in the companyof the tempter and in the privacy of the domestic hearth, and both inthe gayly suggestive and the pensively argumentative key. Why might theynot, by means of a clever purchase in the stock market, occasionallyprocure some of the agreeable extra pleasures of life--provide the readymoney for theatres, a larger wardrobe, trips from home, or a modestequipage? Why not take advantage of the friendly advice given? Mr. Williams had made clear that the purchase of stocks on a sufficientmargin was no more reprehensible as a moral proposition than thepurchase of cargoes of sugar, cotton, coffee or tea against whichmerchants borrowed money at the bank. In neither instance did thepurchaser own outright what he sought to sell at an advance; merely inone case it was shares, in the other merchandise. Of course it wasfoolish for inexperienced country folk with small means to dabble instocks and bonds, but why should not city people who were clever and hadclever friends in the business eke out the cost of living by shrewdinvestments? In an old-fashioned sense it might be considered gambling;but, if it were true, as Wilbur and Mr. Williams both maintained, thatthe American people were addicted to speculation, was not the existenceof the habit strong evidence that the prejudice against it must beill-founded? The logical and the patriotic conclusion must needs be thatbusiness methods had changed, and that the American nation had beenclever enough to substitute dealings in shares of stock, and incontracts relating to cereals and merchandise for the methods of theirgrandfathers who delivered the properties in bulk. 

To this condensation of Gregory's glib sophistries on the lips of hiswife, Wilbur had seemed to turn a deaf ear. It did not occur to him, atfirst, that Selma was seriously in earnest. He regarded her suggestionsof neglected opportunities, which were often whimsically uttered, asmore than half playful--a sort of make-believe envy of the meteoricprogress in magnificence of their friendly neighbors. He was even gladthat she should show herself appreciative of the merits of civilizedcomfort, for he had been afraid lest her ascetic scruples would lead herjudgments too far in the opposite direction. He welcomed them andencouraged her small schemes to make the establishment more festive andstylish in appearance, in modest imitation of the splendor next door. But constant and more sombre reference to the growing fortunes of theWilliamses presently attracted his attention and made him moreobservant. His income sufficed to pay the ordinary expenses of quietdomestic life, and to leave a small margin for carefully, consideredamusements, but he reflected that if Selma were yearning for greaterluxury, he could not afford at present to increase materially herallowance. It grieved him as a proud man to think that the woman heloved should lack any thing she desired, and without a thought ofdistrust he applied himself more strenuously to his work, hoping thatthe sum of his commissions would enable him presently to gratify some ofher hankerings--such, for instance, as the possession of a horse andvehicle. Selma had several times alluded with a sigh to the satisfactionthere must be in driving in the new park. Babcock had kept a horse, andthe Williamses now drove past the windows daily in a phaeton drawn bytwo iron gray, champing steeds. He said to himself that he couldscarcely blame Selma if she coveted now and then Flossy's finepossessions, and the thought that she was not altogether happy inconsequence of his failure to earn more kept recurring to his mind andworried him. No children had been born to them, and he pictured withgrowing concern his wife lonely at home on this account, yet withoutextra income to make purchases which might enable her to forget at timesthat there was no baby in the house. Flossy had two children, a boy anda girl, two gorgeously bedizened little beings who were trundled alongthe sidewalk in a black, highly varnished baby-wagon which was reputedby the dealer who sold it to Gregory to have belonged to an Englishnobleman. Wilbur more than once detected Selma looking at the babieswith a wistful glance. She was really admiring their clothes, yet thethought of how prettily she would have been able to dress a baby of herown was at times so pathetic as to bring tears to her eyes, and causeher to deplore her own lack of children as a misfortune. 

As the weeks slipped away and Wilbur realized that, though he wasgaining ground in his profession, more liberal expenditures were stillout of the question, he reached a frame of mind which made him yearn fora means of relief. So it happened that, when Selma asked him once morewhy he did not follow the advice proffered and buy some stocks, hereplied by smiling at Gregory and inquiring what he should buy. Duringthe dinner, which had been pleasant, Wilbur's eye had been attracted bythe brilliancy of some new jewels which Mrs. Williams wore, and he hadbeen conscious of the wish that he were able to make a present like thatto his own wife. 

"You take my breath away. Wonders will never cease, " responded Gregory, while both the women clapped their hands. "But you musn't buy anything;you must sell, " he continued. "VanHorne and I both came to theconclusion to-day that it is time for a turn on the short side of themarket. When the public are crazy and will buy any thing, then is thetime to let them have all they wish. "

"What, then, am I to sell?" asked Wilbur "I am a complete lamb, youknow. " He was already sorry that he had consented, but Selma's manifestinterest restrained him from turning the matter into a joke. 

"Leave it all to me, " said Williams with a magnificent gesture. 

"But you will need some money from me. "

"Not at all. If you would feel better, you may send me a check or a bondfor a thousand dollars. But it isn't necessary in your case. "

"I will bring you in a bond to-morrow--one of the very few I own. "

Wilbur having delivered his security the first thing in the morning, heard nothing further from Williams for a fortnight. One day he receiveda formal account of certain transactions executed by Williams andVanHorne for Wilbur Littleton, Esq. , and a check for two thousanddollars. The flush which rose to his cheeks was induced partly bypleasure, partly by shame. His inclination, as he reflected, was toreturn the check, but he recognized presently that this was a foolishidea, and that the only thing to be done was to deposit it. He wrote agrateful note of acknowledgment to Williams, and then gave himself up tothe agreeable occupation of thinking what he should buy for Selma withthe money. He decided not to tell her of his good fortune, but to treather to a surprise. His first fancy was in favor of jewelry--somenecklace or lustrous ornament for the hair, which would charm thefeminine eye and might make Selma even more beautiful than she alreadyappeared in evening dress. His choice settled on a horse and buggy asmore genuinely useful. To be sure there was the feed of the animal to beconsidered; but he would be able to reserve sufficient money to coverthis cost for some months, and by the end of that time he would perhapsbe able to afford the outlay from his income. Horse-flesh and vehicleswere not in his line, but he succeeded by investigation in procuring amodest equipment for seven hundred dollars, which left him three hundredfor fodder, and the other thousand. This he had decided to hand over toSelma as pin money. It was for her sake that he had consented tospeculate, and it seemed meet that she should have the satisfaction ofspending it. 

He carried out his surprise by appearing one afternoon before the doorand inviting her to drive. Selma became radiant at the news that thehorse and buggy were hers, though, when the particulars of the purchasewere disclosed she said to herself that she wished Wilbur had allowedher to choose the vehicle. She would have preferred one more stylish andless domestic looking. She flung her arms about his neck and gave him akiss on their return to show her satisfaction. 

"You see how easy it is, Wilbur, " she said as she surveyed the checkwhich he had handed her. 

"It was not I, it was Williams. "

"No, but you could, if you would only think so. I have the greatestconfidence in you, dear, " she added, looking eagerly into his face; "butdon't you sometimes go out of your way to avoid what is enterprisingand--er--modern, just because it is modern?"

"Gambling is as old as the hills, Selma. "

"Yes. And if this were gambling--the sort of gambling you mean, do youthink I would allow you to do it? Do you think the American people wouldtolerate it for a minute?" she asked triumphantly. 

"It seems to me that your admiration for the American people sometimesmakes you a little weak in your logic, " he answered with good-humor. Hewas so pleased by Selma's gratification that he was disposed to exorcisehis scruples. 

"I have always told you that I was more of a patriot than you, Wilbur. "

The bond had not been returned by Williams at the time he sent themoney, and some fortnight later--only a few days in fact after thisdrive, Littleton received another cheque for $500 and a request that hecall at the office. 

"I thought you would like to see the instruments of torture at work--theprocess of lamb-shearing in active operation, " Williams explained as heshook hands and waved him into his private room. After a few easyremarks on the methods of doing business the broker continued, "Iflatter myself that for so small an investment and so short a time, Ihave done tolerably well for you. "

"I scarcely know how to express my thanks and my admiration for yourskill. Indeed I feel rather awkwardly about--"

"That's all right, my dear fellow. It's my business; I get mycommission. Still I admit friendly regard--and this is why I suggestedyour dropping in--by introducing the personal equation, makes onenervous. If instead of closing out your account, I had in each instanceheld on, you would have made more money. I was glad to take thisresponsibility at first because you were a neophyte at the business, butI think it will be more satisfactory both for you and for me that infuture transactions you should give me the word when to reap the profit. Of course you shall have all the information which I possess and myadvice will be at your command, but where a man's money is concerned hisown head is apt to be the wisest counsellor. Now I took the libertyyesterday of selling for you two hundred shares of Reading railroad. Youcan cover to-day at a profit of one point--about $200. I do not urge it. On the contrary I believe that the market, barring occasional rallies, is still on the downward track. I wish, however, to put you in aposition where you can, if you desire, take advantage of the fullopportunities of the financial situation and save myself from feelingthat I have robbed you by my friendly caution. "

"In other words you don't wish to speculate with my money, " saidLittleton. "You wish me to paddle my own canoe. "

Williams' real desire was to escape the bother of personallysuperintending an insignificant account. His circumlocution was a suaveway of stating that he had done all that could be expected of a neighborand benevolent friend, and that the ordinary relation of broker andcustomer ought now be established. As for Littleton, he perceived thathe was not free to retire from the market on the profits of friendlyregard unless he was prepared to fly in the face of advice and buy inhis two hundred Reading railroad. To do so would be pusillanimous;moreover to retire and abstain from further dealings would makeWilliams' two cheques more obviously a charitable donation, and thethought of them was becoming galling. Above all there were Selma'sfeelings to be considered. The possession of the means to afford herhappiness was already a sweet argument in favor of further experiments. 

And so it happened that during the next nine months Littleton became afrequenter of the office of Williams & VanHorne. He was not among thosewho hung over the tape and were to be seen there daily; but he foundhimself attracted as the needle by the magnet to look in once or twice aweek to ascertain the state of the market. His ventures continued to besmall, and were conducted under the ken of Williams, and though theoccasional rallies referred to by the broker harassed Wilbur's spiritwhen they occurred, the policy of selling short proved reasonablyremunerative in the course of half a dozen separate speculations. Inround figures he added another $2, 500 to that which Williams had madefor him. The process kept him on pins and needles, and led him to scanthe list of stock quotations before reading anything else in thenewspaper. Selma was delighted at his success, and though he chose notto tell her the details of his dealings, she watched him furtively, followed the general tendency of the market, and when she perceived thathe was in good spirits, satisfied sufficiently her curiosity byquestions. 

On the strength of this addition to their pecuniary resources, Selmabranched out into sundry mild extravagances. She augmented her wardrobe, engaged an additional house-maid and a more expensive cook, andentertained with greater freedom and elaboration. She was fond of goingto the theatre and supping afterward at some fashionable restaurantwhere she could show her new plumage and be a part of the gay, chattering rout at the tables consuming soft-shelled crabs andchampagne. She was gradually increasing her acquaintance, chiefly amongthe friends of the Williamses, people who were fond of display andluxury and who seemed to have plenty of money. In this connection shewas glad to avail herself of the reputation of belonging to the literarycircle, and she conceived the plan of mingling these new associates withWilbur's former set--to her thinking a delightful scheme, which sheinaugurated by means of a dinner party. She included among the guestsPauline and Dr. Page, and considered that she had acted gracefully inputting them side by side at table, thus sacrificing the theory of herentertainment to her feminine interest in romance. In her opinion it wasmore than Pauline deserved, and she was proud of her generosity. Therewere fourteen in the company, and after dinner they were regaled by ayoung woman who had brought a letter of introduction to Selma from Mrs. Earle, who read from her own poems. The dinner was given for her, andher seat was between Wilbur and Mr. Dennison, the magazine editor. Selmahad attended a dinner-party at the Williamses a fortnight earlier wherethere had been music in the drawing-room by a ballad-singer at a cost of$100 (so Flossy had told her in confidence). A poetess reading from herown works, a guest and not invited in after dinner on a businessfooting, appealed to Selma as more American, and less expensive. She, inher secret soul, would have liked to recite herself, but she feared torun the gauntlet of the New York manner. The verses were intense incharacter and were delivered by the young woman with a hollow-eyedfervor which, as one of the non-literary wing of the company stated, made one creep and weep alternately. There was no doubt that theentertainment was novel and acceptable to the commercial element, and toSelma it seemed a delightful reminder of the Benham Institute. She wascurious to know what Mr. Dennison thought, though she said to herselfthat she did not really care. She felt that anything free and earnest inthe literary line was likely to be frowned on by the coterie to whichher husband's people belonged. Nevertheless she seized an opportunity toask the editor if he did not think the verses remarkable. 

"They are certainly remarkable, " answered Mr. Dennison. After a briefpause he added, "Being a strictly truthful person, Mrs. Littleton, I donot wish to seek shelter behind the rampart which your word 'remarkable'affords. A dinner may be remarkable--remarkably good, like the one Ihave just eaten, or remarkably bad. Some editors would have replied toyou as I have done, and yet been capable of a mental reservationunflattering to the ambitious young woman to whom we have beenlistening. But without wishing to express an opinion, let me remind youthat poetry, like point-lace, needs close scrutiny before its merits canbe defined. I thought I recognized some ancient and well-worn flowers ofspeech, but my editorial ear and eye may have been deceived. She hasbeautiful hair at all events. "

 "'Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare; And beauty draws us by a single hair. '

"You cynical personage! I only hope she may prove a genius and that youwill realize when too late that you might have discovered her, " saidSelma, looking into his face brightly with a knowing smile and tappingher fan against her hand. She was in a gay humor at the success of theentertainment, despite the non-committal attitude of this censor, andpleased at the appositeness of her quotation. Her figure had filled outsince her marriage. She was almost plump and she wore a single short fatcurl pendent behind her ear. 

A few months subsequent to this dinner party Flossy announced one daythat Mr. Silas S. Parsons, whom Selma had seen with the Williamses atthe theatre nearly three years before, had come to live in New York withhis wife and daughter. Flossy referred to him eagerly as one of herhusband's most valuable customers, a shrewd, sensible, Western businessman, who had made money in patent machinery and was superbly rich. Hehad gone temporarily to a hotel, but he was intending to build a largehouse on Fifth Avenue near the park. Selma heard this announcement withkeen interest, asking herself at once why Wilbur should not be thearchitect. Why not, indeed? She promptly reasoned that here was herchance to aid her husband; that he, if left to his own devices, would donothing to attract the magnate's attention, and that it behooved her, asan American wife and a wide-awake, modern woman, to let Mr. Parsons knowhis qualifications, and to prepossess him in Wilbur's favor by her ownattractions. The idea appealed to her exceedingly. She had been hopingthat some opportunity to take an active part in the furtherance ofWilbur's career would present itself, for she felt instinctively thatwith her co-operation he would make more rapid progress. Here wasexactly the occasion longed for. She saw in her mind's eye Mr. Parsons'scompleted mansion, stately and beautiful, the admired precursor of ahost of important edifices--a revolutionizing monument in contemporaryarchitecture. Wilbur would become the fashion, and his professionalsuccess be assured, thanks to the prompt ability of his wife to takeadvantage of circumstances. So she would prove herself a veritablehelpmate, and the bond of marital sympathy would be strengthened andrefreshed. 

To begin with, Selma hinted to Mrs. Williams that Mr. Parsons might doworse than employ Wilbur to design his house. Flossy accepted thesuggestion with enthusiasm and promised her support, adding that Mr. Parsons was a person of sudden and strong fancies, and that if he wereto take a fancy to Wilbur, the desired result would be apt to follow. Selma quickly decided that Mr. Parsons must be made to like her, for shefeared lest Wilbur's quiet, undemonstrative manner would fail to attracthim. Evidently he admired the self-confidence and manly assertion ofGregory Williams, and would be liable to regard Wilbur as lacking inforce and enterprise. The reflection that she would thus be working--asnecessarily she would--for the eternal progress of truth, added apleasant savor to the undertaking, for it was clear that her husband wasan ideal architect for the purpose, and she would be doing a trueservice to Mr. Parsons in convincing him that this was so. Altogetherher soul was in an agreeable flutter, notwithstanding that her neighborFlossy had recently received invitations to two or three large balls, and been referred to in the society columns of the newspapers as thefascinating and clever wife of the rising banker Gregory Williams. 

The Littletons were promptly given by Flossy the opportunity to make theacquaintance of the Parsons family. Mr. Parsons was a ponderous man ofover sixty, with a solid, rotund, grave face and a chin whisker. He wasabsorbed in financial interests, though he had retired from activebusiness, and had come to New York to live chiefly to please his wifeand daughter. Mrs. Parsons, who was somewhat her husband's junior, was adevotee, or more correctly, a debauchee, of hotel life. Since the timewhen they had become exceedingly rich, about ten years before, they hadmade a grand tour of the hotels of this country and Europe. By so doingMrs. Parsons and her daughter felt that they became a part of the sociallife of the cities which they visited. Although they had been used toplain, if not slovenly, house-keeping before the money came, both thewife and daughter had evolved into connoisseurs of modish and luxurioushotel apparatus and garniture. They had learned to revel in manycourses, radiantly upholstered parlors, and a close acquaintance withthe hotel register. Society for them, wherever they went, meant findingout the names of the other guests and dressing for them, being on easyterms with the head waiter and elevator boy, visiting the theatres, andkeeping up a round of shopping in pursuit of articles of apparel. Theywore rich garments and considerable jewelry, and plasteredthemselves--especially the daughter--with bunches of violets or rosesself-bestowed. Mrs. Parsons was partial to perfume, and they both wereaddicted to the free consumption of assorted bonbons. To be sure theyhad made some acquaintances in the course of their peregrinations, butone reason for moving to New York was that Mrs. Parsons had come to themelancholy conclusion that neither the princes of Europe nor the sons ofAmerican leading citizens were paying that attention to her daughterwhich the young lady's charms seemed to her to merit. If living lavishlyin hotels and seeing everybody right and left were not the high-road toelegant existence and hence to a brilliant match for Lucretia, Mrs. Parsons was ready to try the effect of a house on Fifth Avenue, thoughshe preferred the comforts of her present mode of life. Still oneadvantage of a stable home would be that Mr. Parsons could be constantlywith them, instead of an occasional and intermittent visitorcommunicated with more frequently by electricity than by word of mouth. While Mr. Parsons was selecting the land, she and Lucretia had abandonedthemselves to an orgy of shopping, and with an eye to the new house, their rooms at the hotel were already littered with gorgeous fabrics, patterns of wall-paper and pieces of pottery. 

Selma's facility in the New York manner was practised on Silas Parsonswith flattering success. He was captivated by her--more so than byFlossy, who amused him as a flibbertigibbet, but who seemed to him tolack the serious cast of character which he felt that he discernedbeneath the sprightliness of this new charmer. Mr. Parsons was what hecalled a "stickler" for the dignity of a serious demeanor. He liked tolaugh at the theatre, but mistrusted a daily point of view which savoredof buffoonery. He was fond of saying that more than one public man inthe United States had come to grief politically from being a joker, andthat the American people could not endure flippancy in theirrepresentatives. He liked to tell and listen to humorous stories in thesecurity of a smoking-room, but in his opinion it behooved a citizen tomaintain a dignified bearing before the world. Like other self-made menwho had come to New York--like Selma herself--he had shrunk from anddeplored at first the lighter tone of casual speech. Still he had grownused to it, and had even come to depend on it as an amusement. But hefelt that in the case of Selma there was a basis of ethical earnestness, appropriate to woman, beneath her chatty flow of small talk. That shewas comparatively a new-comer accounted partially for this impression, but it was mainly due to the fact that she still reverted after hersallies of pleasantry to a grave method of deportment. 

Selma's chief hospitality toward the Parsonses took the form of atheatre party, which included a supper at Delmonico's after the play. Itwas an expensive kind of entertainment, which she felt obliged tojustify to Wilbur by the assertion that the Williamses had been so civilshe considered it would be only decent to show attention to theirfriends. She was unwilling to disclose her secret, lest the knowledge ofit might make Wilbur offish and so embarrass her efforts. There wereeight in the party, and the affair seemed to Selma to go off admirably. She was enthralled by the idea of using her own personal magnetism topromote her husband's business. She felt that it was just the sort ofthing she would like and was fitted for, and that here was anopportunity for her individuality to display itself. She devoted herselfwith engaging assiduity to Mr. Parsons, pleased during the activeprocess of propitiation by the sub-consciousness that her table was oneof the centres of interest in the large restaurant. She had dressedherself with formal care, and nothing in the way of compliment couldhave gratified her more than the remark which Mr. Parsons made, as heregarded her appreciatively, when he had finished his supper, that shesuggested his idea of Columbia. Selma glowed with satisfaction. Thecomparison struck her as apt and appropriate, and she replied with aproud erection of her head, which imparted to her features theirtranscendental look, and caused her short curl to joggle tremulously, "Isuppose I see what you mean, Mr. Parsons. "

CHAPTER VII. 

One evening, four or five days after this supper party, Wilbur laid downthe book which he was pretending to read, and said, "Selma, I have cometo the conclusion that I must give up dabbling in stocks. I am beinginjured by it--not financially, for, as you know, I have made a fewthousand dollars--but morally. "

"I thought you were convinced that it was not immoral, " answered Selma, in a constrained voice. 

"I do not refer to whether speculation is justifiable in itself, but toits effect on me as an individual--its distraction to my mind andconsequent interference with my professional work. "

"Oh. "

"For a year now, the greater portion of the time, I have had someinterest in the market, and as a consequence, have felt impelled to lookin on Williams and VanHorne every day--sometimes oftener. I am unable todismiss my speculations from my thoughts. I find myself wondering whathas happened to the stocks I am carrying, and I am satisfied that thepractice is thoroughly demoralizing to my self-respect and to myprogress. I am going to give it up. "

"I suppose you must give it up if it affects you like that, " respondedSelma drily. "I don't see exactly why it should. "

"It may seem foolish to you, but I am unable to put my ventures out ofmy mind. The consequences of loss would be so serious to me that Isuppose my imagination becomes unduly active and apprehensive. Also, Ifind myself eager to secure large gains. I must renounce Aladdin's lampfrom this day forth, my dear, and trust to my legitimate business for myincome. "

Selma folded her hands and looked grave. "It's disappointing that youfeel so just when we are beginning to get on, Wilbur. "

"I have realized, Selma, that you have enjoyed and--er--been madehappier by the freedom to spend which this extra money has afforded you. But I know, when you reflect, you will understand that I am right, andthat it would be disastrous to both of us if I were to continue to dowhat I believe demoralizing. It is a mortification to me to ask you toretrench, but I said to myself that Selma would be the first to insiston our doing so if she knew my feelings, and it makes me happy to besure of your approval. "

Littleton spoke with a tender plaintiveness which betrayed that in hissecret soul he was less confident on this score than his words declared, or than he himself supposed. "Of course, " he added, earnestly, "I shallhope that it will not make much difference. My business is slowly, butsteadily, improving, and I am doing more this year than last. I ambending all my energies on my plans for Wetmore College. If I win inthat competition, I shall make a reputation and a respectablecommission. "

"You have been on those plans three months. "

"Yes, and shall not finish them for another two. I wish to do my bestwork, and I shall be glad not to hear quotations of the ticker in mybrain. You desire me to be thorough, surely, Selma _mia_?"

"Oh, yes. Only, you know people very often spoil things by potteringover them. "

"I never potter. I reject because I am dissatisfied rather than offer adesign which does not please me, but I do not waste my time. "

"Call it over-conscientiousness then. I wish you to do your best work, of course, but one can't expect to do best work invariably. Everythingwas going so nicely that you must perceive it will be inconvenient tohave to economize as we did before. "

Littleton looked at his wife with a glance of loving distress. "Youwouldn't really care a button. I know you wouldn't, Selma, " he said, stoutly. 

"Of course not, if it were necessary, " she answered. "Only I don't wishto do so unless it is necessary. I am not controverting your decisionabout the stocks, though I think your imagination, as you say, is toblame. I would rather cut my right hand off than persuade you to actcontrary to your conscience. But it _is_ inconvenient, Wilbur, you mustadmit, to give up the things we have become accustomed to. "

"We shall be able to keep the horse. I am certain of that. "

"I wish you to see my side of it. Say that you do, " she said, withshrill intensity. 

"It is because I do see it that I am troubled, Selma. For myself I am nohappier now than I was when we lived more simply. I can't believe thatyou will really find it a hardship to deny yourself such extravagancesas our theatre party last week. Being a man, " he added, after a pause, "I suppose I may not appreciate how important and seductive some ofthese social observances appear to a woman, and heaven knows my chiefwish in life is to do everything in my power to make you happy. You mustbe aware of that, dearest. I delight to work hard for your sake. But itseems almost ludicrous to be talking of social interests to you, of allwomen. Why, at the time we were married, I feared that you would cutyourself off from reasonable pleasures on account of your dislike ofeverything frivolous. I remember I encouraged you not to take tooascetic a view of such things. So I am bound to believe that your sideis my side--that we both will find true happiness in not attempting tocompete with people whose tastes are not our tastes, and whose aims arenot our aims. "

"Then you think I have deteriorated, " she said, with a superior smile. 

"I think of you as the most conscientious woman I ever met. It was onlynatural that you should be spurred by our neighbors, the Williamses, tomake a better showing socially before the world. I have been glad to seeyou emulous up to a certain point. You must realize though, that wecannot keep pace with them, even if we so desire. Already they are inthe public eye. He appears to have made considerable money, and hisviews on the stock-market are given prominence by the press. He and hiswife are beginning to be recognized by people who were ignorant of theirexistence four years ago. You told me last week that Mrs. Williams hadattended one of the fashionable balls, and I saw in yesterday'snewspaper a description of her toilette at another. It begins to look asif, in a few years more, their ambition might be realized, and the doorsof the Morton Price mansion open wide to admit this clever countrycousin to the earthly paradise. It must be evident to you, Selma, thatvery shortly we shall see only the dust of their chariot-wheels in thedim social distance. Williams told me to-day that he has bought a housenear the park. "

"He has bought a new house? They are going to move?" exclaimed Selma, sitting up straight, and with a fierce light in her eyes. 

"Yes. He was going home to tell his wife. It seems that they have beentalking vaguely of moving for some time. An acquaintance happened tooffer him a house, and Williams closed the bargain on the spot in hiscustomary chain-lightning style. I shall be sorry to have them go onsome accounts, for they have always been friendly, and you seem fond ofthe wife, but we shall find it easier, perhaps, when they are gone, tolive according to our own ideas. "

"Flossy has not been quite so nice lately, " said Selma; "I am afraid sheis disposed to put on airs. "

"Her head may have been turned by her success. She has a kind heart, buta giddy brain in spite of its cleverness. "

"Flossy has been getting on, of course. But so are we getting on. Whyshould they be recognized, as you call it, any more than we? In time, Imean. Not in the same way, perhaps, since you don't approve of the sortof things--"

"Since I don't approve? Why, Selma, surely--"

"Since _we_ don't approve, then. I only mean that Gregory Williams hasshown initiative, has pushed ahead, and is--er--the talk of the town. Iexpect you to be successful, too. Is there any reason on earth why thedoor of the Morton Prices should open wide to her and not to me?"

"I suppose not, if--if you wish it. "

She made a gesture of impatience and gazed at him a moment with animperious frown, then suddenly, with the litheness of a cat, she slippedfrom her chair to the floor at his feet, and leaning against his knee, looked up into his face. 

"You dear boy, I am going to tell you something. You said to me oncethat if ever the time came when I thought you visionary, I was to letyou know. Of course I understand you are worth a thousand _Gregorys_;but don't you think you would get on faster if you were a little moreaggressive in your work?--if you weren't so afraid of being superficialor sensational? You were intimating a few minutes ago, " she added, speaking rapidly under the stress of the message she burned to deliver, "that I seemed changed. I don't believe I am changed. But, if I seemdifferent, it is because I feel so strongly that those who wish tosucceed must assert themselves and seize opportunities. There is whereit seems to me that Mr. Williams has the advantage over you, Wilbur. Oneof the finest and most significant qualities of our people, you know, istheir enterprise and aggressiveness. Architecture isn't like the stockbusiness, but the same theory of progress must be applicable to both. Don't you think I may be right, Wilbur? Don't you see what I mean?"

He stroked her hair and answered gently, "What is it that I am not doingwhich you think I might do?"

Selma snuggled close to him, and put her hand in his. She was vibratingwith the proud consciousness of the duty vouchsafed to her to guide andassist the man she loved. It was a blissful and a precious moment toher. "If I were you, " she said, solemnly, "I should build somethingstriking and original, something which would make everyone who beheld itask, 'what is the architect's name?' I would strike out boldly withoutcaring too much what the critics and the people of Europe would say. Youmusn't be too afraid, Wilbur, of producing something American, and youmustn't be too afraid of the American ways of doing things. We work morequickly here in everything, and--and I still can't help feeling that youpotter a little. Necessarily I don't know about the details of yourbusiness, but if I were you, instead of designing small buildings orcompeting for colleges and churches, where more than half the timesomeone else gets the award, I should make friends with the people wholive in those fine houses on Fifth Avenue, and get an order to design asplendid residence for one of them. If you were to make a grand successof that, as you surely would, your reputation would be made. You ask mewhy I like to entertain and am willing to know people like that. It isto help you to get clients and to come to the front professionally. Nowisn't that sensible and practical and right, too?"

Her voice rang triumphantly with the righteousness of her plea. 

"Selma, dear, if I am not worldly-wise enough, I am glad to listen toyour suggestions. But art is not to be hurried. I cannot vulgarize myart. I could not consent to that. "

"Of course not, Wilbur. Not worldly-wise enough is just the phrase, Ithink. You are so absorbed in the theory of fine things that I am sureyou often let the practical opportunities to get the fine things to doslip. "

"Perhaps, dear. I will try to guard against it. " Wilbur took her handsin his and looked down tenderly into her face. His own was a littleweary. "Above everything else in life I wish, to make you happy, " hesaid. 

"I am happy, you dear boy. "

"Truly?"

"Yes, truly. And if something happens which I am nearly sure willhappen, I shall be happier still. It's a secret, and I mustn't tell you, but if it does happen, you can't help agreeing that your wife has beenclever and has helped you in your profession. "

"Helped me? Ah, Selma, " he said, folding her in his arms, "I don't thinkyou realize how much you are to me. In this modern world, what withself-consciousness, and shyness and contemporary distaste for fulsomeexpression, it is difficult to tell adequately those we love how we feeltoward them. You are my darling and my inspiration. The sun rises andsets with you, and unless you were happy, I could never be. Each man inthis puzzling world must live according to his own lights, and I, according to mine, am trying to make the most of myself, consistent withself-respect and avoidance of the low human aims and time-servingmethods upon which our new civilization is supposed to frown. If I amneglecting my lawful opportunities, if I am failing to see wisely andcorrectly, I shall be grateful for counsel. Ah, Selma, for your sake, even more than for my own, I grieve that we have no children. A baby'shands would, I fancy, be the best of counsellors and enlighteners. "

"If children had come at first, it would have been very nice. Butnow--now I think they might stand in the way of my being of help to you. And I am so anxious to help you, Wilbur. "

As a result of this conversation Littleton devoted himself moreassiduously than ever to his work. He was eager to increase his earningsso that his income should not be curtailed by his decision to avoidfurther ventures in the stock-market. He was troubled in soul, forSelma's accusation that he was visionary haunted him. Could it be thathe was too scrupulous, too uncompromising, and lacked proper enterprise?Self-scrutiny failed to convince him that this was so, yet left alurking doubt which was harassing. His clear mind was too modest tobelieve in its own infallibility, for he was psychologist enough tounderstand that no one can be absolutely sure that his perspective oflife is accurate. Possibly he was sacrificing his wife's legitimateaspirations to too rigid canons of behavior, and to an unconscious lackof initiative. On the other hand, as a positive character, he believedthat he saw clearly, and he could not avoid the reflection that, if thiswas the case, he and Selma were drifting apart--the more bitteralternative of the two, and a condition which, if perpetuated, wouldinvolve the destruction of the scheme of matrimonial happiness, theideal communion of two sympathetic souls, in which he was living as aproud partner. Apparently he was in one of two predicaments; either hewas self deceived, which was abhorrent to him as a thoughtful grapplerwith the eternal mysteries, or he had misinterpreted the character ofthe woman whose transcendent quality was a dearer faith to him than theintegrity of his own manhood. 

So it was with a troubled heart that he applied himself to more rigorousprofessional endeavor. Like most architects he had pursued certain linesof work because orders had come to him, and the chances of employmenthad ordained that his services should be sought for small churches, school-houses and kindred buildings in the surrounding country ratherthan for more elaborate and costly structures. On these undertakings itwas his habit to expend abundant thought and devotion. The class of workwas to his taste, for, though the funds at his disposal were not alwaysso large as he desired for artistic effects, yet he enjoyed theopportunity of showing that simplicity need not be homely anddisenchanting, but could wear the aspect of grace and poetry. Latterlyhe had been requested to furnish designs for some blocks of houses inthe outlying wards of the city, where the owners sought to provideattractive, modern flats for people with moderate means. Variouscommissions had come to him, also, to design decorative work, whichinterested him and gave scope to his refined and aspiring imagination, and he was enthusiastically absorbed in preparing his competitive plansfor the building of Wetmore College. His time was already well occupiedby the matters which he had in hand. That is, he had enough to do andyet did not feel obliged to deny himself the luxury of deliberatethoroughness in connection with each professional undertaking. Save forthe thought that he must needs earn more in order to please Selma, hewould have been completely happy in the slow but flattering growth ofhis business, and in feeling his way securely toward greater success. Now, however, he began to ask himself if it were not possible to hastenthis or that piece of work in order to afford himself the necessaryleisure for new employment. He began also to consider whether he mightnot be able, without loss of dignity, to put himself in the way ofsecuring more important clients. To solicit business was not to bethought of, but now and again he put the question to himself whether hehad not been too indifferent as to who was who, and what was what, inthe development of his business. 

While Littleton was thus mulling over existing conditions, andsubjecting his conduct to the relentless lens of his own conscience andtheories, Selma announced to him jubilantly, about a fortnightsubsequent to their conversation, that her secret was a secret nolonger, and that Mr. Parsons desired to employ him to build an imposingprivate residence on Fifth Avenue near the Park. Mr. Parsons confirmedthis intelligence on the following day in a personal interview. Heinformed Littleton that he was going to build in order to please hiswife and daughter, and intimated that expense need not stand in the wayof the gratification of their wishes. After the business matters weredisposed of he was obviously ready to intrust all the artistic detailsto his architect. Consequently Littleton enjoyed an agreeable quarter ofan hour of exaltation. He was pleased at the prospect of building ahouse of this description, and the hope of being able to give free scopeto his architectural bent without molestation made that prospectroseate. He could desire no better opportunity for expressing his ideasand proving his capacity. It was an ideal chance, and his soul thrilledas he called up the shadowy fabric of scheme after scheme to fill thetrial canvas of his fantasy. Nor did he fail to award due credit toSelma for her share in the transaction; not to the extent, perhaps, ofconfessing incapacity on his own part, but by testifying lovingly to hercleverness. She was in too good humor at her success to insist on hishumiliation in set terms. The two points in which she was most vitallyinterested--the advantage of her own interference and the consequentprompt extension of her husband's field of usefulness--had beentriumphantly proved, and there was no need that the third--Wilbur's lackof capacity to battle and discriminate for himself--should beemphasized. Selma knew what she thought in her own mind, and sheentertained the hope that this lesson might be a lamp to his feet forfuture illumination. She was even generous enough to exclaim, placingher hands on his shoulders and looking into his face with complacentfervor:

"You might have accomplished it just as well yourself, Wilbur. "

Littleton shook his head and smiled. "It was a case of witchery andfascination. He probably divined how eager you were to help me, and hewas glad to yield to the agreeable spell of your wifely devotion. "

"Oh, no, " said Selma. "I am sure he never guessed for one moment of whatI was thinking. Of course, I did try to make him like me, but that wasonly sensible. To make people like one is the way to get business, Ibelieve. "

Littleton's quarter of an hour of exaltation was rudely checked by anote from Mrs. Parsons, requesting an interview in regard to the plans. When he presented himself he found her and her daughter imbued withdefinite ideas on the subject of architects and architecture. In theeyes of Mrs. Parsons the architect of her projected house was nothingbut a young man in the employ of her husband, who was to guide them asto measurements, carpentry, party-walls and plumbing, but was otherwiseto do her bidding for a pecuniary consideration, on the same generalbasis as the waiter at the hotel or the theatre ticket-agent. As toarchitecture, she expected him to draw plans just as she expecteddealers in carpets or wall-papers to show her patterns in easysuccession. "I don't care for that; take it away. " "That is ratherpretty, but let me see something else. " What she said to Littleton was, "We haven't quite decided yet what we want, but, if you'll bring someplans the next time you call, we'll let you know which we like best. There's a house in Vienna I saw once, which I said at the time toLucretia I would copy if I ever built. I've mislaid the photograph ofit, but I may be able to tell you when I see your drawings how itdiffered from yours. Lucretia has a fancy for something Moorish orOriental. I guess Mr. Parsons would prefer brown-stone, plain andmassive, but he has left it all to us, and both daughter and I thinkwe'd rather have a house which would speak for itself, and not be mixedup with everybody else's. You'd better bring us half a dozen to choosefrom, and between me and you and Lucretia, we'll arrive at somethingelegant and unique. "

This was sadly disillusionizing to Littleton, and the second experiencewas no less so. The refined outline sketches proffered by him wereunenthusiastically surveyed and languidly discarded like so manywall-papers. It was evident that both the mother and daughter weredisappointed, and Littleton presently divined that their chief objectionwas to the plainness of the several designs. This was made unmistakablyobvious when Mrs. Parsons, after exhibiting a number of photographs offoreign public buildings with which she had armed herself, surveyed themost ornate, holding it out with her head on one side, and exclaimedimpressively, "This is more the sort of thing we should like. I thinkMr. Parsons has already explained to you that he desired our house to beas handsome as possible. "

"I had endeavored to bear that in mind, " Littleton retorted with spirit. "I believe that either of these plans would give you a house which wouldbe handsome, interesting and in good taste. "

"It does not seem to me that there is anything unique about any ofthem, " said Mrs. Parsons, with a cold sniff intended to be conclusive. Nor did Littleton's efforts to explain that elaboration in a privateresidence was liable to detract from architectural dignity and toproduce the effect of vulgarity fall upon receptive soil. The rich man'swife listened in stony silence, at times raising her lorgnette toexamine as a curiosity this young man who was telling her--an Americanwoman who had travelled around the world and seen everything to beseen--how she ought to build her own house. The upshot of this interviewwas that Littleton was sent away with languid instructions to try again. He departed, thinking melancholy thoughts and with fire in his soul, which, for Selma's sake, he endeavored to keep out of his eyes. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The departure of the Williamses to a smarter neighborhood was a trialfor Selma. She nursed the dispiriting reflection that she and Wilburmight just as well be moving also; that a little foresight andshrewdness on her husband's part would have enabled him to sell at ahandsome profit the house in which they were living; and that there wasno reason, except the sheer, happy faculty of making the most ofopportunities, to account for the social recognition which Flossy andher husband were beginning to receive. It had not been easy to bear withequanimity during the last year the ingenuous, light-hearted warblingsin which Flossy had indulged as an outlet to her triumphant spirits, andto listen to naïve recitals of new progress, as though she herself werea companion or ladies' maid, to whom such developments could neverhappen. She was weary of being merely a recipient of confidences and asympathetic listener, and more weary still of being regarded as such byher self-absorbed and successful neighbor. Why should Flossy be sodense? Why should she play second fiddle to Flossy? Why should Flossytake for granted that she did not intend to keep pace with her? Keeppace, indeed, when, if circumstances would only shape themselves alittle differently, she would be able speedily to outstrip her volatilefriend in the struggle for social preferment. 

Not unnaturally their friendship had been somewhat strained by thesimmering of these thoughts in Selma's bosom. If a recipient ofconfidences becomes tart or cold, ingenuous prattle is apt to flow lessspontaneously. Though Flossy was completely self-absorbed, andconsequently glad to pour out her satisfaction into a sympathetic ear, she began to realize that there was something amiss with her friendwhich mere conscientious disapproval of her own frivolities did notadequately explain. It troubled her somewhat, for she liked theLittletons and was proud of her acquaintance with them. However, she wasconscious of having acquitted herself toward them with liberality, and, especially now that her social vista was widening, she was not disposedat first to analyze too deeply the cause of the lack of sympathy betweenthem. That is, she was struck by Selma's offish manner and frigidsilences, but forgot them until they were forced upon her attention thenext time they met. But as her friend continued to receive her bubblingannouncements with stiff indifference, Flossy, in her perplexity, beganto bend her acute mental faculties more searchingly on her idol. A fixedpoint of view will keep a shrine sacred forever, but let a worshipper'sperspective be altered, and it is astonishing how different the featuresof divinity will appear. Flossy had worshipped with the eyes of faith. Now that her adoration was rejected without apparent cause, hercuriosity was piqued, and she sought an interpretation of the mysteryfrom her clever wits. As she observed Selma more dispassionately hersuspicion was stirred, and she began to wonder if she had been burningincense before a false goddess. This doubt was agitating her mind at thetime when they moved from the street. 

Selma was unconscious of the existence of this doubt as she had beenlargely unconscious of her own sour demeanor. She had no wish to losethe advantages of intimate association with the Williamses. On thecontrary, she expected to make progress on her own account by admissioninto their new social circle. She went promptly to call, and saw fit toshow herself tactfully appreciative of the new establishment and moreready to listen to Flossy's volubility. Flossy, who was radiant andbubbling over with fresh experiences which she was eager to impart, wasglad to dismiss her doubt and to give herself up to the delights ofunbridled speech. She took Selma over her new house, which had beenpurchased just as it stood, completely furnished, from the previousowner, who had suffered financial reverses. "Gregory bought it becauseit was really a bargain, " she said. "It will do very well for thepresent, but we intend to build before long. I am keeping my eye on yourhusband, and am expecting great things from the Parsons house. Do youknow, I believe in Mr. Littleton, and feel sure that some day we shallwake up and find him famous. "

This was amiable, particularly as Flossy was very busily engaged incontemplating the brilliant progress of Gregory Williams and his wife. But Selma returned home feeling sore and dissatisfied. Flossy had beengracious, but still dense and naïvely condescending. Selma chose toforesee that her friend would neglect her, and her foresight wascorrect. The call was not returned for many weeks, although Flossy hadassured her when they separated that distance would make no differencein their intimacy. But in the first place, her doubts recurred to Flossyafter the departure of her visitor, and in the second, the agitationsincident to her new surroundings, fortified by these doubts, madeneglect easy. When she did call, Selma happened to be out. A few dayslater an invitation to dine with the Williamses arrived. Selma wouldhave preferred to remain at home as a rebuke, but she was miserablyconscious that Flossy would not perceive the point of the refusal. Soshe went, and was annoyed when she realized that the guests were onlypeople whom she knew already--the Parsonses, and some of GregoryWilliams's former associates, whom she had met at the old house. It wasa pleasant dinner, apparently, to all except Selma. The entertainmentwas flatteringly lavish, and both the host and hostess with suavity putin circulation, under the rose, the sentiment that there are no friendslike old friends--a graceful insincerity which most of them presentaccepted as true. Indeed, in one sense it was not an insincerity, forGregory and his wife entertained cordial feelings toward them all. Buton the other hand, Selma's immediate and bitter conclusion was alsotrue, that the company had been invited together for the reason that, inthe opinion of Flossy, they would not have harmonized well with anyoneelse. 

Said Wilbur as they drove away from the house--"Barring a few moments ofagony in the society of my tormentor, Mrs. Parsons, I had a pleasantevening. They were obviously potting their old acquaintance in one pie, but to my thinking it was preferable to being sandwiched in between someof their new friends whom we do not know and who know nothing of us. Itwas a little evident, but on the whole agreeable. "

Selma, shrouded in her wraps, made no reply at first. Suddenly sheexclaimed, with, fierceness, "I consider it rank impertinence. It was asmuch as to say that they do not think us good enough to meet their newfriends. "

Littleton, who still found difficulty in remembering that his wife wouldnot always enjoy the humor of an equivocal situation, was sorry that hehad spoken. "Come, Selma, " he said, "there's no use in taking that viewof the matter. You would not really care to meet the other people. "

"Yes, I would, and she knows it. I shall never enter her house again. "

"As to that, my dear, the probabilities are that we shall not be askedfor some time. You know perfectly well that, in the nature of things, your intimacy with Mrs. Williams must languish now that she lives at adistance and has new surroundings. She may continue to be very fond ofyou, but you can't hope to see very much of her, unless I am greatlymistaken in her character. "

"She is a shallow little worldling, " said Selma, with measuredintensity. 

"But you knew that already. The fact that she invited us to dinner anddid not ignore our existence altogether shows that she likes us andwishes to continue the friendship. I've no doubt she believes that sheis going to see a great deal of us, and you should blame destiny and theforce of fashionable circumstances, not Flossy, if you drift apart. "

"She invited us because she wished to show off her new house. "

"Not altogether. You musn't be too hard on her. "

Selma moved her shoulders impatiently, and there was silence for somemoments broken only by the tapping of her foot. Then she asked, "Hownearly have you finished the plans for the Parsons house?"

Wilbur's brow clouded under cover of the night. He hesitated an instantbefore replying, "I am sorry to say that Mrs. Parsons and I do not seemto get on very well together. Her ideas and mine on the subject ofarchitecture are wide apart, as I have intimated to you once or twice. Ihave modified my plans again, and she has made airy suggestions whichfrom my point of view are impossible. We are practically at loggerheads, and I am trying to make up my mind what I ought to do. "

There was a wealth of condensation in the word 'impossible' whichbrought back unpleasantly to Selma Pauline's use of the same word inconnection with the estimate which had been formed of Miss Bailey. "There can be only one thing to do in the end, " she said, "if you can'tagree. Mrs. Parsons, of course, must have her house as she wishes it. Itis her house, Wilbur. "

"It is her house, and she has that right, certainly. The question iswhether I am willing to allow the world to point to an architecturalhotch-potch and call it mine. "

"Isn't this another case of neglecting the practical side, Wilbur? I amsure you exaggerate the importance of the changes she desires. If I werebuilding a house, I should expect to have it built to suit me, and Ishould be annoyed if the architect stood on points and were captious. "Selma under the influence of this more congenial theme had partiallyrecovered her equanimity. Her duty was her pleasure, and it was clearlyher duty to lead her husband in the right path and save him frombecoming the victim of his own shortcomings. 

Wilbur sighed. "I have told her, " he said, "that I would submit anotherentirely new sketch. It may be that I can introduce some of her and herdaughter's splurgy and garish misconceptions without making myselfhopelessly ridiculous. "

He entered the house wearily, and as he stood before the hall tableunder the chandelier, Selma took him by the arm and turning him towardher gazed into his face. "I wish to examine you. Pauline said to meto-day that she thinks you are looking pale. I don't see that you are;no more so than usual. You never were rosy exactly. Do you know I havean idea that she thinks I am working you to death. "

"Pauline? What reason has she to think anything of the kind? Besides, Iam perfectly well. It is a delight to work for a woman like you, dearest. " He took her face between his hands and kissed her tenderly;yet gravely, too, as though the riddle of life did not solve itself atthe touch of her lips. "You will be interested to hear, " he added, "thatI shall finish and send off the Wetmore College plans this week. "

"I am glad they are off your hands, for you will have more time forother work. "

"Yes. I think I may have done something worth while, " he said, wistfully. 

"And I shall try not to be annoyed if someone else gets the award, " sheresponded, smoothing down the sheen of her evening dress and regardingherself in the mirror. 

"Of course someone else may have taken equal pains and done a betterthing. It is necessary always to be prepared for that. "

"That is the trouble. That is why I disapprove of competitions. "

"Selma, you are talking nonsense, " Littleton exclaimed with suddensternness. 

The decision in his tone made her start. The color mounted to her face, and she surveyed him for an instant haughtily, as though he had done heran injury. Then with an oratorical air and her archangel look, she said, "You do not seem to understand, Wilbur, that I am trying to save youfrom yourself. "

Littleton was ever susceptible to that look of hers. It suggestedincarnate conscientiousness, and seemed incompatible with humanimperfection or unworthy ambitions. He was too wroth to relentaltogether, but he compressed his lips and returned her looksearchingly, as though he would scrutinize her soul. 

"I'm bound to believe, I do believe, that you are trying to help me, Selma. I need your advice and help, even against myself, I dare say. Butthere are some matters of which you cannot judge so well as I. You musttrust my opinion where the development of my professional life isconcerned. I shall not forget your caution to be practical, but for thesake of expediency I cannot be false to what I believe true. Come, dear, let us go to bed. "

He put his hand on her arm to lead her upstairs, but she turned from itto collect her fan and gloves. Looking, not at him, but at herself inthe mirror, she answered, "Of course. I trust, though, that this doesnot mean you intend to act foolishly in regard to the Parsons house. "

"I have already told you, " he said, looking back, "that I am going tomake another attempt to satisfy that exasperating woman and herdaughter. "

"And you can satisfy them, I'm sure, if you only choose to, " said Selma, by way of a firm, final observation. 

Littleton's prophecy in regard to the waning of friendship between hiswife and Mrs. Williams proved to be correct. Propinquity had made themintimate, and separation by force of circumstances put a summary end tofrequent and cordial intercourse between them. As he had predicted, their first invitation to the new house was still the last at the end ofthree months, and save for a few words on one occasion in the street, Selma and Flossy did not meet during that period. But during that samethree months Selma's attention was constantly attracted to theWilliamses by prominent newspaper allusions to their prosperity andgrowing fashionable prestige. What they did and where they went werechronicled in the then new style journalistic social gossip, and theevery-day world was made familiar with his financial opinions and hisequipages and her toilettes. The meeting in the street was an ordeal forSelma. Flossy had been shopping and was about to step into her carriage, the door of which was held open by an imposing liveried footman, whenthe two women nearly collided. 

"I have not seen you for an age, " Flossy exclaimed, with the genuinering of regret in her tone, with which busy people partially atone forhaving left undone the things they ought or would like to have done. "Which way are you going? Can't I take you somewhere?"

Selma glanced sternly at the snug coupe and stylish horses. "No, wedon't seem to meet very often, " she said drily. "I'm living, though, atthe same place, " she added, with a determination to be sprightly. 

"Yes, I know; I owe you a call. It's dreadful of me. I've been intendingto come, but you can't imagine how busy I've been. Such a number ofinvitations, and new things to be done. I'm looking forward to givingyou a full account of my experiences. "

"I've read about them in the newspapers. "

"Oh, yes. Gregory is always civil to reporters. He says that thenewspapers are one of the great institutions of the country, and that itis sensible to keep in touch with them. I will confide to you that Ithink the whole business vulgar, and I intend some day, when we arefirmly established, to be ugly to them. But at present the publicity israther convenient and amusing, " she exclaimed, with a gay shake of herhead, which set her ringlets bobbing. 

"I should think it would be unpleasant to have the details of one'sappearance described by the press. "

Flossy's doubts had returned in full force during the conversation. Shesaid to herself, "I wonder if that is true? I wonder if it wouldn't bethe very thing she would like?" But she answered blithely, "Oh, one getsused to it. Then I can't take you anywhere? I'm sorry. Some day I hopemy round of gayety will cease, so that we can have a quiet eveningtogether. I miss your husband. I always find him suggestive andinteresting. "

"'Her round of gayety! A quiet evening together!'" murmured Selma as shewalked away. "Wilbur is right; purse-proud, frivolous little thing! Sheis determined to destroy our friendship. "

Four weeks subsequent to this meeting the newspapers contained a fulsomeaccount of a dancing party given by Mr. And Mrs. Gregory Williams--"anelegant and recherché entertainment, " in the language of the reporter. Alist of the company followed, which Selma scrutinized with a brow like athunder-cloud. She had acquired a feverish habit of perusing similarlists, and she recognized that Flossy's guests--among the first of whomwere Mr. And Mrs. Morton Price and the Misses Price--were chieflyconfined to persons whom she had learned to know as members offashionable society. She read, in the further phraseology of thereporter, that "it was a small and select affair. " At the end of thelist, as though they had been invited on sufferance as a businessnecessity, were the Parsonses; but these were the only former associatesof the Williamses. Selma had just finished her second reading of thisnews item when her meditation was interrupted by the voice of herhusband, who had been silent during dinner, as though he had some matteron his mind, and was at the moment sitting close by, on the other sideof the lamp which lighted the library table. 

"I fear you will be disappointed, Selma, but I have informed Mr. Parsonsdefinitely this morning, that he must get another architect. The ideasof his wife and daughter are hopelessly at variance with mine. He seemedto be sorry--indeed, I should think he was a reasonable and sensibleman--but he said that he was building to please Mrs. Parsons, and weboth agreed that under the circumstances it was necessary that sheshould make a fresh start. He asked me to send my bill, and we parted onthe best of terms. So it is all over, and except from the point of viewof dollars and cents, I am very glad. Only the remembrance that you hadset your heart on my making this my masterpiece, prevented me fromthrowing over the contract weeks ago. Tell me, Selma _mia_, that youapprove of what I have done and congratulate me. " He pulled forward hischair so that he might see her face without interference from the lampand leaned toward her with frank appeal. 

"Yes, I had set my heart on it, and you knew it. Yet you preferred togive up this fine opportunity to show what you could do and to getbusiness worth having rather than sacrifice your own ideas as to how ahouse should be built to the ideas of the women who were to live in it. I dare say I should agree with them, and that the things which theywished and you objected to were things I would have insisted on having. "

Littleton started as though she had struck him in the face. "Selma! Mywife! Do you realize what you are saying?"

"Perfectly. "

"Then--then--. Why, what have I said, what have I done that you shouldtalk like this?"

"Done? Everything. For one thing you have thrown away the chance forgetting ahead in your profession which I procured for you. For another, by your visionary, unpractical ways, you have put me in the positionwhere I can be insulted. Read that, and judge for yourself. " She heldout to him the newspaper containing the account of the dancing party, pointing with her finger to the obnoxious passage. 

With nervous hands Littleton drew the page under the light. "What is allthis about? A party? What has it to do with our affairs?"

"It has this to do with them--if you had been more practical andenterprising, our names would have been on that list. "

"I am glad they are not there. "

"Yes, I know. You would be content to have us remain nobodies all ourdays. You do not care what becomes of my life, provided you can carryout your own narrow theory of how we ought to live. And I had such faithin you, too! I have refused to believe until now that you were nottrying to make the most of your opportunities, and to enable me to makethe most of mine. "

"Selma, are you crazy? To think that you, the woman I have loved withall my soul, should be capable of saying such things to me! What does itmean?"

She was quick to take advantage of his phrase. "Have loved? Yes, I knowthat you do not love me as you did; otherwise you could not have refusedto build that house, against my wish and advice. It means this, WilburLittleton, that I am determined not to let you spoil my life. You forgetthat in marrying you I gave up my own ambitions and hopes for your sake;because--because I believed that by living together we should be more, and accomplish more, than by living apart. You said you needed me, and Iwas fool enough to believe it. "

The fierce tragedy in her tone lapsed into self-pity under the influenceof her last thought, and Littleton, eager in his bewilderment for someescape from the horror of the situation, put aside his anger anddropping on his knees beside her tried to take her hands. 

"You are provoked, my darling. Do not say things which you will be sorryfor to-morrow. I call God to witness that I have sought above all elseto make you happy, and if I have failed, I am utterly miserable. I haveneeded you, I do need you. Do not let a single difference of opinionspoil the joy of both our lives and divide our hearts. "

She pulled her hands away, and shunning his endearment, rose to herfeet. 

"I am provoked, but I know what I am saying. A single difference ofopinion? Do you not see, Wilbur, that none of our opinions are the same, and that we look at everything differently? Even your religion and theGod you call to witness are not mine. They are stiff and cold; youUnitarians permit your consciences to deaden your emotions and belittleyour outlook on life. When I went with Mr. Parsons the other day to theMethodist church, I could not help thinking how different it was. I wasthrilled and I felt I could do anything and be anything. My mother was aMethodist. They sang 'Onward Christian Soldiers, ' and it was glorious. "She paused a moment and, with an exalted look, seemed to be recallingthe movement of the hymn. "With you, Wilbur, and the people likeyou--Pauline is the same--everything is measured and pondered over, andnothing is spontaneous. I like action, and progress and prompt, sensibleconclusions. That is the American way, and the way in which people whosucceed get on. But you won't see it--you can't see it. I've tried toexplain it to you, and now--now it's too late. We're nobodies, and, ifour hearts are divided, that's fate I suppose. It's a very cruel fatefor me. But I don't choose to remain a nobody. "

Littleton's expression as she talked had changed from astonishment toanger, and from anger to a sternness which gave his words of responsethe effect of calm and final decision. "You have said so many thingswith which I do not agree, and which I should have to dispute, that Iwill not attempt to argue with you concerning them. One thing is clear, both of us have made a horrible mistake. Each has misunderstood theother. You are dissatisfied with me; I realize suddenly that you areutterly different from what I supposed. I am overwhelmed, but your wordsmake plain many things which have distressed and puzzled me. " He pausedas though in spite of the certainty of his tone, he hoped that she wouldsee fit to deny his conclusions. "We have made a mistake and we shallboth be miserable--that must needs be--but we must consider whetherthere is any method by which we can be less unhappy. What would you liketo have me do, Selma? We have no children, thank heaven! Would it bemore agreeable to live apart from me and receive support? A divorce doesnot seem necessary. Besides, our misconception of each other wouldnot be a legal cause. "

Selma flushed at the reference to divorce. Littleton's sad, simplestatement wore on the surface no sign of a design to hark back to herexperience with her first husband, yet she divined that it must be inhis thoughts and she resented the recurrence. Moreover, separation, certainly for the present, went beyond her purpose. 

"I have no wish for divorce or separation. I see no reason why we shouldnot continue to live as we are, " she answered. "To separate would causescandal. It is not necessary that people should know we have made amistake. I shall merely feel more free now to live my own life--andthere is no telling that you may not some day see things from my pointof view and sympathize with me more. " She uttered the last words with amixture of pathos and bright solicitation. 

Littleton shook his head. "I agree with you that to go on as we are isour best course. As you say, we ought, if possible, to keep theknowledge of our sorrow to ourselves. God knows that I wish I could hopethat our life could ever be as it was before. Too many things havebecome plain to me in the last half-hour to make that possible. I couldnever learn to accept or sympathize with your point of view. There canbe no half-love with me, Selma. It is my nature to be frank, and as youare fond of saying, that is the American way. I am your husband still, and while I live you shall have my money and my protection. But I haveceased to be your lover, though my heart is broken. "

"Very well, " said Selma, after a painful pause. "But you know, Wilbur, "she added in a tone of eager protestation, "that I do not admit for amoment that I am at fault. I was simply trying to help you. You haveonly yourself to blame for your unhappiness and--and for mine. I hopeyou understand that. "

"Yes, I understand that you think so, " he said sadly. 

CHAPTER IX. 

The breach between Littleton and his wife was too serious to be healed, for he was confronted by the conviction that Selma was a very differentbeing from the woman whom he had supposed that he was marrying. He hadbeen slow to harbor distrust, and loath, even in the face of her ownwords, to admit that he had misinterpreted her character; but this lastconversation left no room for doubt. Selma had declared to him, unequivocally, that his ideas and theory of life were repugnant to her, and that, henceforth, she intended to act independently of them, so faras she could do so, and yet maintain the semblance of the married state. It was a cruel shock and disappointment to him. At the time of hismarriage he would have said that the least likely of possible happeningswould be self-deception as to the character of the woman he loved. Yetthis was precisely what had befallen him. 

Having realized his mistake, he did not seek to flinch from the bittertruth. He saw clearly that their future relations toward each other mustbe largely formal; that tender comradeship and mutual soul alliance wereat an end. At the same time his simple, direct conscience promptlyindicated to him that it was his duty to recognize Selma's point of viewand endeavor to satisfy it as far as he could without sacrifice of hisown principles. He chose to remember that she, too, had made a mistake, and that he was not the kind of husband whom she desired; that histastes were not her tastes, nor his ambitions her's; that she had tastesand ambitions of her own which he, as the man to whom she was bound bythe law, must not disregard. Thus reasoning, he resolved to carry outthe scheme of life which she appeared to despise, but also to work hardto provide her with the means to fulfil her own aims. She craved moneyfor social advancement. She should have it from him, for there was noother source from which she could obtain it. The poignancy of his ownsorrow should not cause him to ignore that she had given up her owncareer and pursuits in order to become his wife, and was nowdisappointed and without independent resources. His pride was sorelywounded, his ideals shattered and his heart crushed; yet, though hecould not forbear from judging Selma, and was unconscious of havingfailed in his obligations to her as a husband and a man, he saw what shecalled her side, and he took up the thread of life again under the spurof an intention to give her everything but love. 

On her part Selma felt aggrieved yet emancipated. She had not looked forany such grave result from her vituperation. She had intended to reprovehis surrender of the Parsons's contract, in direct opposition to her ownwishes, with the severity it deserved, and to let him understand clearlythat he was sacrificing her happiness, no less than his own, by hishysterical folly. When the conversation developed stubborn resistance onhis part, and she realized that he was defending and adhering to hispurpose, a righteous sense of injury became predominant in her mind overeverything else. All her past wrongs cried for redress, and she rejoicedin the opportunity of giving free vent to the pent up grievances whichhad been accumulating for many months. Even then it was startling to herthat Wilbur should suddenly utter the tragic ultimatum that theirhappiness was at an end, and hint at divorce. She considered that sheloved him, and it had never occurred to her that he could ever cease tolove her. Rather than retract a word of her own accusations she wouldhave let him leave her, then and there, to live her own life withoutprotection or support from him, but his calmer decision that they shouldcontinue to live together, yet apart, suited her better. In spite of hisresolute mien she was sceptical of the seriousness of the situation. Shebelieved in her heart that after a few days of restraint they wouldresume their former life, and that Wilbur, on reflection, wouldappreciate that he had been absurd. 

When it became apparent that he was not to be appeased and that histhreat had been genuine, Selma accepted the new relation without demur, and prepared to play her part in the compact as though she had beenequally obdurate in her outcry for her freedom. She met reserve withreserve, maintaining rigorously the attitude that she had been wrongedand that he was to blame. Meantime she watched him narrowly, wonderingwhat his grave, sad demeanor and solicitous politeness signified. Whenpresently it became plain to her that not merely she was to be free tofollow her own bent, but that he was ready to provide her with the meansto carry out her schemes, she regarded his liberality as weakness and asign that he knew in his heart that she was in the right. Immediately, and with thinly concealed triumph, she planned to utilize the newliberty at her disposal, purging any scruples from her conscience by thegenerous reflection that when Wilbur's brow unbent and his lips movedfreely she would forgive him and proffer him once more her conjugalcounsel and sympathy. She was firmly of the opinion that, unless he thusacknowledged his shortcomings and promised improvement, the presentarrangement was completely to her liking, and that confidence andhappiness between them would be utterly impossible. She shed some tearsover the thought that unkind circumstances had robbed her of the love bywhich she had set such store and which she, on her part, stillcherished, but she comforted herself with the retort that its loss waspreferable to sacrificing weakly the development of her own ideas andlife to its perpetuation. 

Her flush of triumph was succeeded, however, by a discontented mood, because cogitation constrained her to suspect that her social progressmight not be so rapid as her first rosy visions had suggested. Shecounted on being able to procure the participation of Wilbursufficiently to preserve the appearance of domestic harmony. This wouldbe for practical purposes a scarcely less effective furtherance of herplans than if he were heartily in sympathy with them. Were there notmany instances where busy husbands took part in the social undertakingsof their wives, merely on the surface, to preserve appearances? Theattitude of Wilbur seemed reasonably secure. That which harassed her asthe result of her reflections and efforts to plan was the unpalatableconsciousness that she did not know exactly what to do, and that no one, even now that she was free, appeared eager to extend to her the hand ofrecognition. She was prompt to lay the blame of this on her husband. Itwas he who, by preventing her from taking advantage of the socialopportunities at their disposal, had consigned her to this eddy whereshe was overlooked. This seemed to her a complete excuse, and yet, though she made the most of it, it did not satisfy her. Her helplessnessangered her, and aroused her old feelings of suspicion and resentmentagainst the fashionable crew who appeared to be unaware of herexistence. She was glad to believe that the reason they ignored her wasbecause she was too serious minded and spiritual to suit their frivolousand pleasure-loving tastes. Sometimes she reasoned that the sensiblething for her to do was to break away from her present life, whereconvention and caste trammelled her efforts, and make a name for herselfas an independent soul, like Mrs. Margaret Rodney Earle and otherfree-born women of the Republic. With satisfaction she pictured herselfon the lecture platform uttering burning denunciation of the un-Americansocial proclivities of this shallow society, and initiating a crusadewhich should sweep it from existence beneath the ban of the moral senseof the thoughtful people of the country. 

But more frequently she nursed her resentment against Mrs. Williams, towhom she ascribed the blame of her isolation, reasoning that if Flossyhad been a true friend, not even Wilbur's waywardness would haveprevented her social recognition and success. That, instead, thisvolatile, fickle prattler had used her so long as she needed her, andthen dropped her heartlessly. The memory of Flossy's ball still rankleddeeply, and appeared to Selma a more obvious and more exasperatinginsult as the days passed without a sign of explanation on the part ofher late neighbor, and as her new projects languished for lack of a fewwords of introduction here and there, which, in her opinion, were allshe needed to ensure her enthusiastic welcome as a social leader. Theappreciation that without those words of introduction she was helplessfor the time being focused her resentment, already keen, on thesuccessful Flossy, whose gay doings had disappeared from the publicprints in a blaze of glory with the advent of the Lenten season. Refusing to acknowledge her dependence, Selma essayed several spasmodicattempts to assert herself, but they proved unsatisfactory. She made themost of Mr. Parsons's predilection for her society, which had not beenchecked by Wilbur's termination of the contract. She was thus enabled toaffiliate with some of their new friends, but she was disagreeablyconscious that she was not making real progress, and that Mr. And Mrs. Parsons and their daughter had, like herself, been dropped by theWilliamses--dropped skilfully and imperceptibly, yet none the lessdropped. Two dinner parties, which she gave in the course of a fortnightto the most important of these new acquaintances, by way of manifestingto Wilbur her intention to enjoy her liberty at his expense, left herdepressed and sore. 

It was just at this time that Flossy took it into her head to call onher--one of her first Lenten duties, as she hastened to assure Selma, with glib liveliness, as soon as she entered. Flossy was in too exalteda frame of mind, too bubbling over with the desire to recite hertriumphs, to have in mind either her doubts concerning Selma or the needof being more than mildly apologetic for her lack of devotion. She feltfriendly, for she was in good humor, and was naïvely desirous to bereceived in the same spirit, so that she might unbosom herselfunreservedly. Sweeping into the room, an animated vision of smiling, stylish cordiality, she sought, as it were, to carry before her by forceof her own radiant mood all obstacles to an amiable reception. 

"My dear, we haven't met for ages. Thank heaven, Lent has come, and nowI may see something of you. I said to Gregory only yesterday that Ishould make a bee-line for your house, and here I am. Well, dear, howare you? All sorts of things have happened, Selma, since we've had areal chat together. Do you remember my telling you--of course youdo--not long after Gregory and I were married that I never should besatisfied until one thing happened? Well, you may congratulate me; ithas happened. We dined a week ago to-night with my cousins--the MortonPrices--a dinner of fourteen, all of them just the people I wished toknow. Wasn't it lovely? I have waited for it to come, and I haven'tmoved a finger to bring it about, except to ask them to my dancingparty--I had to do that, for after all they are my relations. Theyaccepted and came and I was pleased by it; but they could easily haveignored me afterward if they had wished. What really pleased me, Selma, was their asking me to one of their select dinners, because--because itshowed that we are--"

Flossy's hesitation was due partly to the inherent difficulty ofexpressing her thought with proper regard for modesty. With her rise inlife she had learned that unlimited laudation of self was not altogetherconsistent with "fitness, " even in such a confidential interview as thepresent. But she was also disconcerted by the look in Selma's eyes--alook which, at first startled into momentary friendliness by thesuddenness of the onslaught, had become more and more lowering until itwas unpleasantly suggestive of scornful dislike. While she thusfaltered, Selma drily rounded out the sentence with the words, "Becauseit showed that you are somebodies now. "

Flossy gave an embarrassed little laugh. "Yes, that's what I meant. Isee you have a good memory, and it sounds nicer on your lips than itwould on mine. "

"You have come here to-day on purpose to tell me this?" said Selma. 

"I thought you would be interested to hear that my cousins hadrecognized me at last. I remember, you thought it strange that theyshould take so little notice of me. " Flossy's festive manner haddisappeared before the tart reception of her confidences, and her keenwits, baffled in their search for flattery, recalled the suspicionswhich were only slumbering. She realized that Selma was seriouslyoffended with her, and though she did not choose to acknowledge toherself that she knew the cause, she had already guessed it. Anencounter at repartee had no terrors for her, if necessary, and theoccasion seemed to her opportune for probing the accumulating mysteriesof Selma's hostile demeanor. Yet, without waiting for a response to herlast remark, she changed the subject, and said, volubly, "I hear thatyour husband has refused to build the new Parsons house because Mrs. Parsons insisted on drawing the plans. "

Selma's pale, tense face flushed. She thought for a moment that she wasbeing taunted. 

"That was Mr. Littleton's decision, not mine. "

"I admire his independence. He was quite right. What do Mrs. Parsons orher daughter know about architecture? Everybody is laughing at them. Youknow I consider your husband a friend of mine, Selma. "

"And we were friends, too, I believe?" Selma exclaimed, after a momentof stern silence. 

"Naturally, " responded Flossy, with a slightly sardonic air, prompted bythe acerbity with which the question was put. 

"Then, if we were friends--are friends, why have you ceased to associatewith us, simply because you live in another street and a finer house?"

Flossy gave a gasp. "Oh, " she said to herself, "it's true. She isjealous. Why didn't I appreciate it before?"

"Am I not associating with you now by calling on you, Selma?" she saidaloud. "I don't understand what you mean. "

"You are calling on me, and you asked us to dinner to meet--to meet justthe people we knew already, and didn't care to meet; but you have neverasked us to meet your new friends, and you left us out when you gaveyour dancing party. "

"You do not dance. "

"How do you know?"

"I have never associated you with dancing. I assumed that you did notdance. "

"What grounds had you for such an assumption?"

"Really, Selma, your catechism is most extraordinary. Excuse my smiling. And I don't know how to answer your questions--your fierce questions anybetter. I didn't ask you to my party because I supposed that you andyour husband were not interested in that sort of thing, and would notknow any of the people. You have often told me that you thought theywere frivolous. "

"I consider them so still. "

"Then why do you complain?"

"Because--because you have not acted like a friend. Your idea offriendship has been to pour into my ears, day after day, how you hadbeen asked to dinner by this person and taken up by that person, until Iwas weary of the sound of your voice, but it seems not to have occurredto you, as a friend of mine, and a friend and admirer of my husband, tointroduce us to people whom you were eager to know, and who might havehelped him in his profession. And now, after turning the cold shoulderon us, and omitting us from your party, because you assumed I didn'tdance, you have come here this morning, in the name of friendship, totell me that your cousins, at last, have invited you to dinner. And yetyou think it strange that I'm not interested. That's the only reason youcame--to let me know that you are a somebody now; and you expected me, as a friend and a nobody, to tell you how glad I am. "

Flossy's eyes opened wide. Free as she was accustomed to be in her ownutterances, this flow of bitter speech delivered with seer-likeintensity was a new experience to her. She did not know whether to beangry or amused by the indictment, which caused her to wincenotwithstanding that she deemed it slander. Moreover the insinuationthat she had been a bore was humiliating. 

"I shall not weary you soon again with my confidences, " she answered. "So it appears that you were envious of me all the time--that while youwere preaching to me that fashionable society was hollow andun-American, you were secretly unhappy because you couldn't do what Iwas doing--because you weren't invited, too. Oh, I see it all now; it'sclear as daylight. I've suspected the truth for some time, but I'verefused to credit it. Now everything is explained. I took you at yourword; I believed in you and your husband and looked up to you asliterary people--people who were interested in fine and ennoblingthings. I admired you for the very reason that I thought you didn'tcare, and that you didn't need to care, about society and fashionableposition. I kept saying to you that I envied you your tastes, and letyou see that I considered myself your real inferior in my determinationto attract attention and oblige society to notice us. I was guilelessand simpleton enough to tell you of my progress--things I would haveblushed to tell another woman like myself--because I considered you theembodiment of high aims and spiritual ideas, as far superior to mine asthe poetic star is superior to the garish electric light. I thought itmight amuse you to listen to my vanities. Instead, it seems you weremasquerading and were eating your heart out with envy of me--poor me. You were ambitious to be like me. "

"I wouldn't be like you for anything in the world. "

"You couldn't if you tried. That's one of the things which thisextraordinary interview has made plain beyond the shadow of a doubt. Youare aching to be a social success. You are not fit to be. I have foundthat out for certain to-day. "

"It is false, " exclaimed Selma, with a tragic intonation. "You do notunderstand. I have no wish to be a social success. I should abhor tospend my life after the manner of you and your associates. What I objectto, what I complain of, is that, in spite of your fine words andpretended admiration of me, you have preferred these people, who areexclusive without a shadow of right, to me who was your friend, and thatyou have chosen to ignore me for the sake of them, and behaved as if youthought I was not their equal or your equal. That is not friendship, itis snobbishness--un-American snobbishness. "

"It is very amusing. Amusing yet depressing, " continued Flossy, withoutheed to this asseveration. "You have proved one of my ideals to be adelusion, which is sad. " She had arisen and stood gently swaying pendentby its crook her gay parasol, with her head on one side, and seeming foronce to be choosing her words judicially. "When we met first and Inearly rushed into your arms, I was fascinated, and I said to myselfthat here was the sort of American woman of whom I had dreamed--the sortof woman I had fondly imagined once that I might become. I saw you wereunsophisticated and different from the conventional women to whom I wasaccustomed, and, even at first, the things you said every now and thengave me a creepy feeling, but you were inspiring to look at--though nowthat the scales have fallen from my eyes I wonder at my infatuation--andI continued to worship you as a goddess on a pedestal. I used to say toGregory, 'there's a couple who are to the manner born; they never haveto make believe. They are genuinely free and gentle souls. ' Yourhusband? I can't believe that I have been deluded in regard to him, also. I just wonder if you appreciate him--if it is possible that he hasbeen deluded, also. That's rank impertinence, I know; but after all, weare unbosoming our thoughts to each other to-day, and may as well speakopenly. You said just now that it was his decision not to go on with theParsons house. Did you disapprove of it?"

"Yes, I disapproved of it, " answered Selma with flashing eyes. "And whatif I did?"

She rose and stood confronting her visitor as though to banish her fromthe house. 

"I'm going, " said Flossy. "It's none of my concern of course, and I'maware that I appear very rude. I'm anxious though not to lose faith inyour husband, and now that I've begun to understand you, my wits arebeing flooded with light. I was saying that you were not fit to be asocial success, and I'm going to tell you why. No one else is likely to, and I'm just mischievous and frank enough. You're one of those Americanwomen--I've always been curious to meet one in all her glory--whobelieve that they are born in the complete panoply of flawlesswomanhood; that they are by birthright consummate house-wives, leadersof the world's thought and ethics, and peerless society queens. All thisby instinct, by heritage, and without education. That's what youbelieve, isn't it? And now you are offended because you haven't beeninvited to become a leader of New York society. You don't understand, and I don't suppose you ever will understand, that a true lady--agenuine society queen--represents modesty and sweetness andself-control, and gentle thoughts and feelings; that she is evolved bygradual processes from generation to generation, not ready made. Oh, youneedn't look at me like that. I'm quite aware that if I were the genuinearticle I shouldn't be talking to you in this fashion. But there's hopefor me because I'm conscious of my shortcomings and am trying to correctthem; whereas you are satisfied, and fail to see the difference betweenyourself and the well-bred women whom you envy and sneer at. You'repretty and smart and superficial and--er--common, and you don't know it. I'm rather dreadful, but I'm learning. I don't believe you will everlearn. There! Now I'm going. "

"Go!" cried Selma with a wave of her arm. "Yes, I am one of those women. I am proud to be, and you have insulted by your aspersions, not only me, but the spirit of independent and aspiring American womanhood. You don'tunderstand us; you have nothing in common with us. You think to keep usdown by your barriers of caste borrowed from effete European courts, butwe--I--the American people defy you. The time will come when we shallrise in our might and teach you your place. Go! Envy you? I would notbecome one of your frivolous and purposeless set if you were all on yourbended knees before me. "

"Oh, yes you would, " exclaimed Flossy, glancing back over her shoulder. "And it's because you've not been given the chance that we havequarrelled now. "

CHAPTER X. 

The morning after her drastic interview with Mrs. Williams, Selmastudied herself searchingly in her mirror. Of all Flossy's candidstrictures the intimation that she was not and never would be completelya lady was the only one which rankled. The effrontery of it made herblood boil; and yet she consulted her glass in the seclusion of herchamber in order to reassure herself as to the spiteful falsity of thecriticism. Wild horses would not have induced her to admit even toherself that there was the slightest ground for it; still it rankled, thereby suggesting a sub-consciousness of suspicion on the look out forjust such a calumny. 

She gave Littleton her own version of the quarrel. Her explanation wasthat she had charged Flossy with a lack of friendship in failing toinvite her to her ball, and convicted her of detestable snobbery; thatshe had denounced this conduct in vigorous language, that they hadparted in anger, and that all intercourse between them was at an end. 

"We understand each other now, " she added. "I have felt for some timethat we were no longer sympathetic; and that something of this kind wasinevitable. I am glad that we had the chance to speak plainly, for I wasable to show her that I had been waiting for an excuse to cut loose fromher and her frivolous surroundings. I have wearied my spirit long enoughwith listening to social inanities, and in lowering my standards to hersfor the sake of appearing friendly and conventional. That is all overnow, thank heaven. "

It did not occur to Selma that there was any inconsistency in theseobservations, or that they might appear a partial vindication of herhusband's point of view. The most salient effect of her encounter withFlossy had been suddenly to fuse and crystallize her mixed and seeminglycontradictory ambitions into utter hostility to conventional fashionablesociety. Even when her heart had been hungering for an invitation toFlossy's ball, she considered that she despised these people, but theinterview had served to establish her in the glowing faith that they, bytheir inability to appreciate her, had shown themselves unworthy offurther consideration. The desire which she had experienced of late fora renewal of her intimacy with Mrs. Earle and a reassertion of herformer life of independent feminine activity had returned to her, coupled with the crusading intention to enroll herself openly once morein the army of new American women, whose impending victorious campaignshe had prophesied in her retort to Mrs. Williams's maledictions. Shehad, in her own opinion, never ceased to belong to this army, and shefelt herself now more firmly convinced than ever that the course of lifeof those who had turned a cold shoulder on her was hostile to the spiritof American institutions. So far as her husband was concerned, imaginative enterprise and the capacity to take advantage ofopportunities still seemed to her of the essence of fine character. Indeed, she was not conscious of any change in her point of view. Shehad resented Flossy's charge that she desired to be a social success, and had declared that her wounded feelings were solely due to Flossy'sbetrayal of friendship, not to balked social ambition. Consequently itwas no strain on her conscientiousness to feel that her real sentimentshad always been the same. 

Nevertheless she scrutinized herself eagerly and long in her mirror, andthe process left her serious brow still clouded. She saw in the glassfeatures which seemed to her suggestive of superior womanhood, a slenderclear-cut nose, the nostrils of which dilated nervously, delicatelythin, compressed lips, a pale, transparent complexion, and clear, steel-like, greenish-brown eyes looking straight and boldly from ananxious forehead surmounted with a coiffure of elaborately and smoothlyarranged hair. She saw indisputable evidence that she had ceased to bethe ethically attractive, but modishly unsophisticated and physicallyundeveloped girl, who had come to New York five years before, for herfigure was compact without being unduly plump, her cheeks becominglyoval, and her toilette stylish. There were rings on her fingers, and herneck-gear was smart. Altogether the vision was satisfactory, yet sherecognized as she gazed that her appearance and general effect were notprecisely those of Flossy, Pauline, or Mrs. Hallett Taylor. She hadalways prided herself on the distinction of her face, and admiredespecially its freedom from gross or unintellectual lines. She did notintend to question its superiority now; but Flossy's offensive wordsrang in her ears and caused her to gnaw her lips with annoyance. Whatwas the difference between them? Flossy had dared to call her common andsuperficial; had dared to insinuate that she never could be a lady. Alady? What was there in her appearance not lady-like? In what way wasshe the inferior of any of them in beauty, intelligence or character?Rigorous as was the scrutiny, the face in the mirror seemed to her anunanswerable refutation of the slander. What was the difference? Was itthat her eyes were keener and brighter, her lips thinner and lessfleshly, her general expression more wide-awake and self-reliant? If so, were these not signs of superiority; signs that they, not she, weredeficient in the attributes of the best modern womanhood in spite oftheir affectation of exclusiveness?

The result of this process of self-examination in her looking-glass, which was not limited to a single occasion, established more firmly thanever in Selma's opinion the malignant falsity of the imputation, and yetshe was still haunted by it. She was tortured by the secret thoughtthat, though her ambition had been to become just like those otherwomen, she was still distinguishable from them; and moreover, that shewas baffled in her attempt to analyze the distinction. Distinguishableeven from Flossy--from Flossy, who had slighted and then reviled her!Why had she ever faltered in her distrust of these enemies of trueAmerican society? Yet this lingering sense of torture served to whet hernew-found purpose to have done with them forever, and to obtain therecognition and power to which she was entitled, in spite of theirimpertinence and neglect. 

The announcement was made to her by Wilbur at about this time that hisplans for Wetmore College had been accepted, and that he was to be thearchitect of the new buildings. As he told her his face showed atremulous animation which it had not worn for many weeks, and heregarded her for a moment with shy eagerness, as though he half hopedthat this vindication of his purposes by success might prompt her totender some sort of apology, and thus afford him the chance to persuadehimself that he had been mistaken after all in his judgment of her. 

"You must be very much pleased, " she said. "And so am I, of course. "Then, after a moment of reflective abstraction, she asked with suddeneagerness, "How long will it take to build them?"

"Two or three years, I suppose. "

"And you would be obliged to go frequently to Benham?"

"In order to oversee the work I should have to make short trips therefrom time to time. "

"Yes. Wilbur, " she exclaimed, with her exalted expression, "whyshouldn't we go to Benham to live? I have been thinking a great deallately about what we said to each other that time when you felt sobadly, and I have come to the conclusion that our living in New York iswhat is really the trouble. I have the feeling, Wilbur, that in someother place than this cruel, conventional city we should be happier thanwe are now--indeed, very happy. Has it ever occurred to you? You see, New York doesn't understand me; it doesn't understand you, Wilbur. Itsneers at our aspirations. Benham is a growing, earnest city--a citythrobbing with the best American spirit and energy. I suggest Benhambecause we both know it so well. The college buildings would give you agrand start, and I--we both would be in our proper sphere. "

Littleton had started at the suggestion. As a drowning man will grasp ata straw, his grieving soul for an instant entertained the plan as apanacea for their woes. But his brow grew grave and sad under theinfluence of reflection as she proceeded to set forth her reasons in herwrapt fashion. If he had not learned to remain cold under the witcheryof her intense moods, he no longer hesitated to probe her fervidassertions with his self-respecting common-sense. 

"I would he willing to go to the ends of the earth, Selma, " he answered, "if I believed that by so doing you and I could become what we once wereto each other. But I cannot see why we should hope to be happier inBenham than here, nor do I agree with you that this is not our propersphere. I do not share your sentiments in regard to New York; butwhatever its faults, New York is the place where I have establishedmyself and am known, and where the abilities which I possess can beutilized and will be appreciated soonest. Benham is twenty-five yearsbehind this city in all things which concern art and my professionallife, as you well know. "

Selma flushed. "On the contrary, I have reason to believe that Benhamhas made wonderful progress in the last five years. My friends therewrite that there are many new streets and beautiful buildings, and thatthe spirit of the place is enthusiastic and liberal, not luxurious andsneering. You never appreciated Benham at its true worth, Wilbur. "

"Perhaps not. But we chose New York. "

"Then you insist on remaining here?"

"I see no reason for sacrificing the fruits of the past five years--forpulling myself up by the roots and making a fresh start. From aprofessional point of view, I think it would be madness. "

"Not even to save our happiness?" Selma's eyes swam and her lipstrembled as she spoke. She felt very miserable, and she yearned with thedesire that her husband would clasp her in his arms in a vast embrace, and tell her that she was right and that he would go. She felt that ifhe did, the horror of the past would be wiped out and loving harmony berestored. 

Wilbur's lips trembled, too. He gazed at her for a moment withoutspeaking, in conflict with himself; then passing his hand across hisforehead, as though he would sweep away a misty spell from his eyes, said, "Be sensible, Selma. If we could be happy in Benham, we should behappy here. "

"Then you refuse?"

"For the present, yes. "

"And I must remain here to be insulted--and a nobody. "

"For God's sake, Selma, let us not renew that discussion. What you askis impossible at present, but I shall remember that it is your wish, andwhen I begin my work at Benham the circumstances and surroundings may besuch that I shall feel willing to move. "

Selma turned to the table and took up a book, dissatisfied, yet buoyedby a new hope. She did not observe the tired lines on her husband'sface--the weariness of a soul disappointed in its most preciousaspirations. 

Within the next month it happened that a terrible and unusual fatalitywas the occasion of the death of both Mrs. Parsons and her daughter. They were killed by a fall of the elevator at the hotel in which theywere living--one of those dire casualties which are liable to happen toany one of us in these days of swift and complicated apparatus, butwhich always seem remote from personal experience. This cruel blow offate put an end to all desire on the part of the bereaved husband andfather to remain in New York, whither he had come to live mainly toplease his women folk, as he called them. As soon as he recovered fromthe bewilderment of the shock, Mr. Parsons sent for the architect whohad taken Littleton's place, and who had just begun the subservient taskof fusing diverse types of architecture in order to satisfy an Americanwoman's appetite for startling effect, and told him to arrange todispose of the lot and its immature walls to the highest bidder. Hisprecise plans for the future were still uncertain when Selma called onhim, and found comfort for her own miseries in ministering to hissolitude, but he expressed an inclination to return to his nativeWestern town, as the most congenial spot in which to end his days. Selma, whose soul was full of Benham, suggested it as an alternative, enlarging with contagious enthusiasm on its civic merits. The crushedold man listened with growing attention. Already the germs of a plan forthe disposition of his large property were sprouting in his mind toprovide him with a refuge from despondency. He was a reticent man, notin the habit of confiding his affairs until ready to act, but he paidinterested heed to Selma's eulogy of the bustling energy and rapidgrowth of Benham. His preliminary thought had been that it would makehim happy to endow his native town, which was a small and inconspicuousplace, with a library building. But, as his visitor referred to theattractions and admirable public spirit of the thriving city, which wasin the same State as his own home, he silently reasoned that residencethere need not interfere with his original project, and that he mightfind a wide and more important field for his benefactions in a communityso representative of American ideas and principles. 

Selma's visits of condolence to Mr. Parsons were interrupted by theillness of her own husband. In reflecting, subsequently, she rememberedthat he had seemed weary and out of sorts for several days, but herconscious attention was invoked by his coming home early in theafternoon, suffering from a violent chill, and manifestly in a state ofphysical collapse. He went to bed at once; Selma brought blankets and ahot-water bottle, and Dr. George Page was sent for. Dr. Page was the oneof Littleton's friends whom Selma had unsuccessfully yearned to knowbetter. She had never been able to understand him exactly, but hefascinated her in spite of--perhaps because of--his bantering manner. She found difficulty in reconciling it with his reputation for hard workand masterly skill in his profession. She was constantly hoping toextract from him something worthy of his large, solid face, with itsfirm mouth and general expression of reserve force, but he seemed alwaysbent on talking nonsense in her society, and more than once thedisagreeable thought had occurred to her that he was laughing at her. Hehad come to the house after her marriage now and then, but during thepast year or two she had scarcely seen him. The last time when they hadmet, Selma had taxed him with his neglect of her. 

His reply had been characteristically elusive and unsatisfactory. "Iwill not attempt to frame excuses for my behavior, Mrs. Littleton, forno reason which I could offer would be a justification. "

But on the present occasion his greeting was grave and eager. 

"Wilbur sick? I feared as much. I warned Pauline two months ago that hewas overworking, and only last week I told him that he would break downif he did not go away for a fortnight's rest. "

"I wish you had spoken to me. "

Selma noted with satisfaction that there was no raillery in his mannernow. He bent his gaze on her searchingly. 

"Have you not noticed that he looked ill and tired?"

She did not flinch. Why indeed should she? "A little. He tired himself, I think, over the designs for Wetmore College, which he did in additionto his other work. But since the award was made it has seemed to me thathe was looking better. "

She started to lead the way to Wilbur's room, but the doctor paused, andregarding her again fixedly, as though he had formed a resolution toferret the secrets of her soul, said laconically:

"Is he happy?"

"Happy?" she echoed. 

"Has he anything on his mind, I mean--anything except his work?"

"Nothing--that is, " she added, looking up at her inquisitorwith bright, interested eyes, "nothing except that he is veryconscientious--over-conscientious I sometimes think. " To be bandyingpsychological analyses with this able man was an edifying experiencedespite her concern for Wilbur. 

"I see, " he answered dryly, and for an instant there was a twinkle inhis eyes. Yet he added, "To make a correct diagnosis it is important toknow all the facts of the case. "

"Of course, " she said solemnly, reassured in her belief that she wasbeing consulted and was taking part in the treatment of her husband'smalady. 

She accompanied Dr. Page to Wilbur's bed-side. He conversed in a cheerytone with his friend while he took his temperature and made what seemedto her a comparatively brief examination. Selma jumped to the conclusionthat there was nothing serious the matter. The moment they had left theroom, the doctor's manner changed, and he said with alert concern:

"Your husband is very ill; he has pneumonia. I am going to send for anurse. "

"A nurse? I will nurse him myself, Dr. Page. "

It seemed to her the obvious thing to do. She spoke proudly, for itflashed into her mind that here was the opportunity to redeem thesituation with Wilbur. She would tend him devotedly and when he had beenrestored to health by her loving skill, perhaps he would appreciate herat her worth, and recognize that she had thwarted him only to help him. 

The doctor's brow darkened, and he said with an emphasis which wasalmost stern: "Mrs. Littleton, I do not wish to alarm you, but it isright that you should know that Wilbur's symptoms are grave. I hope tosave his life, but it can be saved only by trained skill and attendance. Inexperienced assistance, however devoted, would be of no use in a caselike this. "

"But I only wished to nurse him. "

"I know it; I understand perfectly. You supposed that anyone could dothat. At least that you could. I shall return in an hour at the latestwith a nurse who was trained for three years in a hospital to fit her tobattle for valuable lives. "

Selma flushed with annoyance. She felt that she was being ridiculed andtreated as though she were an incapable doll. She divined that by hisraillery he had been making fun of her, and forthwith her predilectionwas turned to resentment. Not nurse her husband? Did this brow-beatingdoctor realize that, as a girl, she had been the constant attendant ofher invalid father, and that more than once it had occurred to her thather true mission in life might be to become a nurse? Training? She wouldprove to him that she needed no further training. These were herthoughts, and she felt like crying, because he had humiliated her at atime like this. Yet she had let Dr. Page go without a word. She returnedto Wilbur and established herself beside his bed. He tried to smile ather coming. 

"I think I shall be better to-morrow. It is only a heavy cold, " he said, but already he found difficulty in speaking. 

"I have come to nurse you. The blankets and hot-water bottle have madeyou warmer, haven't they? Nod; you mustn't talk. "

"Yes, " he whispered huskily. 

She felt his forehead, and it was burning. She took his hand and saying, "Sh! You ought not to talk, " held it in her own. Then there was silencesave for Wilbur's uneasy turning. It was plain that he was veryuncomfortable. She realized that he was growing worse, and though shechose to believe that the doctor had exaggerated the seriousness of thecase in order to affront her, the thought came that he might die. Shehad never considered such a possibility before. What should she do? Shewould be a widow without children and without means, for she knew thatWilbur had laid up little if anything. She would have to begin life overagain--a pathetic prospect, yet interesting. Even this conjecture ofsuch a dire result conjured up a variety of possible methods oflivelihood and occupation which sped through her mind. 

The return of Dr. Page with a nurse cut short these painful yetengrossing speculations. His offensive manner appeared to have exhausteditself, but he proceeded to install his companion in Wilbur's room. Selma would have liked to turn her out of the house, but realized thatshe could not run the risk of taking issue with him at a time when herhusband's life might be in danger. With an injured air yet in silenceshe beheld the deliberate yet swift preparations. Once or twice Dr. Pageasked her to procure for him some article or appliance likely to be inthe house, speaking with a crisp, business-like preoccupation whichvirtually ignored her existence, yet was free from offence. His soulevidently was absorbed by his patient, whom he observed with alertwatchfulness, issuing brief directions now and then to his white-capped, methodical, and noiseless assistant. Selma sat with her hands before herin a corner of the bed-room, practically ignored. The shadows deepenedand a maid announced dinner. Dr. Page looked at his watch. 

"I shall pass the night here, " he said. 

"Is he worse?"

"The disease is making progress and must run its course. This is onlythe beginning. You should eat your dinner, for you will need yourstrength, " he added with simple graciousness. 

"But I am doing nothing, " she blurted. 

"If there is anything you can do I will let you know. "

Their eyes met. His were gray and steady, but kind. She felt that hechose to treat her like a child, yet that he was trying to beconsiderate. She was galled, but after all, he was the doctor, andWilbur had the utmost confidence in him, so she must submit. She ate herdinner, and when she returned preparations were being made for thenight. The nurse was to use a lounge at the foot of Wilbur's bed. Dr. Page asked permission to occupy the dressing-room adjoining, so as to bewithin easy call. He established himself there with a book, returning atshort intervals to look at his patient. Selma had resumed her seat. Itwas dark save for a night lamp. In the stillness the only sounds werethe ticking of the clock on the mantel-piece and Wilbur's laboredbreathing. It seemed as though he were struggling for his life. Whatshould she do if he died? Why was she debarred from tending him? It wascruel. Tears fell on her hand. She stared into the darkness, twistingher fingers, until at last, as though to show her independence, shestepped to the bed on tip-toe. Wilbur's eyes were open. He put out hishand, and, taking hers, touched it to his burning lips. 

"Good-night, Selma, " he murmured. 

She stooped and kissed his brow. "I am here beside you, Wilbur. "

A figure stood behind her. She turned, expecting to encounter thewhite-capped sentinel. It was Dr. Page. He touched her gently on thearm. "We must let him rest now. You can do no good. Won't you go tobed?"

"Oh, no. I shall sit with him all night. "

"Very well. But it is important that you should not speak to him, " hesaid with another touch of emphasis. 

She resumed her seat and sat out the night, wide-awake and conscious ofeach movement on Wilbur's part. He was restless and moaning. Twice thenurse summoned the doctor, and two or three times he came to thebed-side of his own accord. She felt slighted, and once, when it seemedto her that Wilbur was in distress and anxious for something, sheforestalled the nurse. 

"He wishes water, " Selma said sternly, and she fetched a glass from thetable and let him drink. 

Dr. Page took breakfast with her. She was conscious that somehow hervigil had affected his estimate of her, for his speech was frank anddirect, as though he considered her now more fit to be treated withconfidence. 

"He is very ill, but he is holding his own. If you will lie down for afew hours, I will call you to take Miss Barker's place while she rests. "

This was gratifying, and tended to assuage her bitterness. But thedoctor appeared to her anxious, and spent only a few minutes at table. He said as he rose, "Excuse me, but Pauline--does she know?"

"I will send her word. "

Selma would have been glad to dispense with the presence of hersister-in-law. Their relations had not been sympathetic since theepisode of Miss Bailey, and, though Pauline still dined at the houseonce a week, the intercourse between them had become reserved andperfunctory. She grudged sharing with her what might be Wilbur's lasthours. She grudged, too, permitting her to help to nurse him, especiallynow that her own capabilities were in the way of being recognized, forshe remembered Dr. Page's partiality for her. Still, she appreciatedthat she must let her know. 

Pauline arrived speedily, and Selma found herself sobbing in her arms. She was pleased by this rush of feeling on her own part, and, confirmedin her belief that her sister-in-law was cold because she did not breakdown, and, shrinking from her efforts to comfort her, she quicklyregained her self-control. Pauline seemed composed and cheerful, but theunceasing watchfulness and manifest tension of the doctor weredisconcerting, and as the afternoon shadows deepened, the two women satgrave and silent, appalled by the suspicion that Wilbur's condition waseminently critical. Yet Dr. Page volunteered to say to them presently:

"If his heart holds out, I am hopeful that he will pull through. "

Dr. Page had given up all his duties for the sake of Wilbur. He neverleft the house, manifestly devoting, as shown by the unflagging, absorbed scrutiny with which he noted every symptom and change, thefullest measure of his professional skill and a heart-felt purpose tosave his friend's life if human brain or human concentration couldavail. And yet he stated to Pauline in Selma's hearing that, beyondkeeping up the patient's strength by stimulants, science was practicallyhelpless, and that all they could do was to wait. 

And so they sat, still and unemployed watchers, while day turned intodarkness. From time to time, by the night-lamp, Selma saw Paulinesmiling at her as though in defiance of whatever fate might have instore. Selma herself felt the inclination neither to smile nor to weep. She sat looking before her with her hands clasped, resenting thepowerlessness of the few remedies used, and impatient of the inactivityand relentless silence. Why did not the doctor adopt more stringentmeasures? Surely there was something to be done to enable Wilbur tocombat the disease. Dr. Page had the reputation of being a skilfulphysician, and, presumably, was doing his best; but was it not possible, was it not sensible, to suppose there was a different and better way oftreating pneumonia--a way which was as superior to the conventional andstereotyped method as the true American point of view was superior inother matters?

It came over her as a conviction that if she were elsewhere--in Benham, for instance--her husband could be readily and brilliantly cured. Thisimpassive mode of treatment seemed to her of one piece with the entireLittleton surroundings, the culmination of which was Pauline smiling inthe face of death. She yearned to do something active and decided. Yet, how helpless she was! This arbitrary doctor was following his owndictates without a word to anyone, and without suspecting the existenceof wiser expedients. 

In a moment of rebellion she rose, and swiftly approaching Wilbur's bed, exclaimed, fervently: "Is there not something we can do for you, darling? Something you feel will do you good?"

The sufferer faintly smiled and feebly shook his head, and at the samemoment she was drawn away by a firm hand, and Dr. Page whispered: "He isvery weak. Entire rest is his only chance. The least exertion is a drainon his vitality. "

"Surely there must be some medicine--some powerful application whichwill help his breathing, " she retorted, and she detected again thesemblance of laughter in the doctor's eyes. 

"Everything which modern science can do is being done, Mrs. Littleton. "

What was there but to resume her seat and helpless vigil? Modernscience? The word grated on her ears. It savored to her of narrowmedical tyranny, and distrust of aspiring individuality. Wilbur wasdying, and all modern science saw fit to do was to give him brandy andwait. And she, his wife--the one who loved him best in the world, waspowerless to intervene. Nay, she had intervened, and modern science hadmocked her. 

Selma's eyes, like the glint of two swords, bent themselves on herhusband's bed. A righteous anger reinforced her grieving heart and madeher spirit militant, while the creeping hours passed. Over and over shepursued the tenor of her protest until her wearied system sought refugein sleep. She was not conscious of slumbering, but she reasoned laterthat she must have slept, for she suddenly became conscious of a touchon the shoulder and a vibrant utterance of her name. 

"Selma, Selma, you must come at once. "

Her returning wits realized that it was Pauline who was arousing her andurging her to Wilbur's bed-side. She sprang forward, and saw the lightof existence fading from her husband's eyes into the mute dulness ofdeath. Dr. Page was bending over him in a desperate, but vain, effort toforce some restorative between his lips. At the foot of the bed stoodthe nurse, with an expression which betrayed what had occurred. 

"What is it, Wilbur? What have they done to you? What has happened?"Selma cried, looking from one to the other, though she had discerned thetruth in a flash. As she spoke, Dr. Page desisted from his undertaking, and stepped back from the bed, and instantly Selma threw herself on herknees and pressed her face upon Littleton's lifeless features. There wasno response. His spirit had departed. 

"His heart could not stand the strain. That is the great peril inpneumonia, " she heard the doctor murmur. 

"He is dead, " she cried, in a horrified outburst, and she looked up atthe pitying group with the gaze of an afflicted lioness. She caughtsight of Pauline smiling through her tears--that same unprotesting, submissive smile--and holding out her hands to her. Selma, rising, turned away, and as her sister-in-law sought to put her arm about her, evaded the caress. 

"No--no, " she said. Then facing her, added, with aggrieved conviction:

"I cannot believe that Wilbur's death was necessary. Why was notsomething energetic done?"

Pauline flushed, but, ascribing the calumny to distress, she held herpeace, and said, simply:

"Sh! dear. You will understand better by and by. "

BOOK III. 

THE SUCCESS

CHAPTER I. 

It had never occurred to Selma that she might lose her husband. Evenwith his shortcomings he was so important to her from the point of viewof support, and her scheme of life was so interwoven with his, she hadtaken for granted that he would live as long as she desired. She feltthat destiny had a second time been signally cruel to her, and that shewas drinking deeply of the cup of sorrow. She was convinced that Wilbur, had he lived, would have moved presently to Benham, in accordance withher desire, and that they would then have been completely happy again. Instead he was dead and under the sod, and she was left to face theworld with no means save $5, 000 from his life insurance and the naturalgifts and soul which God had given her. 

She appreciated that she was still a comparatively young woman, andthat, notwithstanding her love for Wilbur, she had been unable as hiswife to exhibit herself to the world in her true light. She was freeonce more to lead her own life, and to obtain due recognition for herideas and principles. She deplored with a grief which depleted the curveof her oval cheeks the premature end of her husband's artisticcareer--an aspiring soul cut off on the threshold of success--yet, though of course she never squarely made the reflection, she was awarethat the development of her own life was more intrinsically valuable tothe world than his, and that of the two it was best that he should betaken. She was sad, sore against Providence, and uncertain as to thefuture. But she was keenly conscious that she had a future, and she waseager to be stirring. Still, for the moment, the outlook was perplexing. What was she to do? First, and certainly, she desired to shake the dustof New York from her feet at the earliest opportunity. She inclinedtoward Benham as a residence, and to the lecture platform, supplementedby literature, and perhaps eventually the stage, as a means oflivelihood. She believed in her secret soul that she could act. Hersupposed facility in acquiring the New York manner had helped togenerate that impression. It seemed to her more than probable that witha little instruction as to technical stage business she could gain fameand fortune almost at once as an actress of tragedy or melodrama. Comedyshe despised as unworthy of her. But the stage appealed to her only onthe ground of income. The life of an actress lacked the ethicalcharacter which she liked to associate with whatever she did. To besure, a great actress was an inspiring influence. Nevertheless shepreferred some more obviously improving occupation, provided it wouldafford a suitable support. Yet was it fitting that she should becondemned to do hack work for her daily bread instead of something toenlighten and uplift the community in which she lived? She consideredthat she had served her apprenticeship by teaching school and writingfor the newspapers, and she begrudged spending further time insubordinate work. Better on the whole a striking success on the stagethan this, for after she had made a name and money she could retire anddevote herself to more congenial undertakings. Nevertheless herconscience told her that a theatrical career must be regarded as a lastresort, and she appreciated the importance of not making a hastydecision as to what she would do. The lease of her house would notexpire for six months, and it seemed to her probable that even in NewYork, where she was not understood, someone would realize her value as amanager of some intellectual or literary movement and make overtures toher. She wrote to Mrs. Earle and received a cordial response declaringthat Benham would welcome her with open arms, a complimentary thoughsomewhat vague certificate. She sent a line also to Mr. Dennison, informing him that she hoped soon to submit some short stories for hismagazine, and received a guarded but polite reply to the effect that hewould be glad to read her manuscripts. 

While she was thus deliberating and winding up her husband's affairs, Mr. Parsons, who had been absent from New York at the time of Wilbur'sdecease, called and bluntly made the announcement that he had bought ahouse in Benham, was to move there immediately, and was desirous thatshe should live with him as his companion and housekeeper on liberalpecuniary terms. 

"I am an old man, " he said, "and my health is not what it used to be. Ineed someone to look after me and to keep me company. I like your chattyways, and, if I have someone smart and brisk around like you, I sha'n'tbe thinking so often that I'm all alone in the world. It'll be dull foryou, I guess; but you'll be keeping quiet for the present wherever youare; and when the time comes that you wish to take notice again I won'tstand in the way of your amusing yourself. "

To this homely plea Selma returned a beatific smile. It struck her as anideal arrangement; a golden opportunity for him, and convenient andpromising for her. In the first place she was accorded the mission ofcheering and guarding the declining years of this fine old man, whom shehad come to look on with esteem and liking. And at the same time as hiscompanion--the virtual mistress of his house, for she knew perfectlywell that as a genuine American he was not offering her a position lessthan this--she would be able to shape her life gradually along congeniallines, and to wait for the ripe occasion for usefulness to presentitself. In an instant a great load was lifted from her spirit. She wasthankful to be spared conscientious qualms concerning the career of anactress, and thankful to be freed at one bound from her New Yorkassociations--especially with Pauline, whose attitude toward her hadbeen further strained by her continued conviction that Wilbur's lifemight have been saved. Indeed, so completely alleviating was Mr. Parsons's proposition that, stimulated by the thought that he was to bea greater gainer from the plan than she, Selma gave rein to her emotionsby exclaiming with fervor:

"Usually I like to think important plans over before coming to adecision; but this arrangement seems to me so sensible and natural andmutually advantageous, Mr. Parsons, that I see no reason why I shouldn'taccept your offer now. God grant that I may be a worthy daughter toyou--and in some measure take the place of the dear ones you have lost. "

"That's what I want, " he said. "I took a liking to you the first time wemet. Then it's settled?"

"Yes. I suppose, " she added, after a moment's hesitation--speaking withan accent of scorn--"I suppose there may be people--people like thosewho are called fashionable here--who will criticise the arrangement onthe ground--er--of propriety, because I'm not a relation, and you arenot very old. But I despise conventions such as that. They may benecessary for foreigners; but they are not meant for self-respectingAmerican women. I fancy my sister-in-law may not wholly approve of it, but I don't know. I shall take pleasure in showing her and the rest thatit would be wicked as well as foolish to let a flimsy suggestion of evilinterfere with the happiness of two people situated as we are. "

Mr. Parsons seemed puzzled at first, as though he did not understandexactly what she meant, but when she concluded he said:

"You come to me, as you have yourself stated, on the footing of adaughter. If folk are not content to mind their own business, I guess weneedn't worry because they don't happen to be suited. There's one or tworelations of mine would be glad to be in your shoes, but I don't know ofanything in the Bible or the Constitution of the United States whichforbids an old man from choosing the face he'll have opposite to him attable. "

"Or forbids the interchange of true sympathy--that priceless privilege, "answered Selma, her liking for a sententious speech rising paramounteven to the pleasure caused her by the allusion to her personalappearance. Nevertheless it was agreeable to be preferred to his femalecousins on the score of comeliness. 

Accordingly, within six months of her husband's death, the transition toBenham was accomplished, and Selma was able to encounter themetaphorically open arms, referred to by Mrs. Earle, without feelingthat she was a less important person than when she had been whisked offas a bride by Littleton, the rising architect. She was returning as theconfidential, protecting companion of a successful, self-made old man, who was relying on her to make his new establishment a pleasure tohimself and a credit to the wide-awake city in which he had elected topass his remaining days. She was returning to a house on the River Drive(the aristocratic boulevard of Benham, where the river Nye makes a broadsweep to the south); a house not far distant from the Flagg mansion atwhich, as Mrs. Lewis Babcock, she had looked askance as a monumentinimical to democratic simplicity. Wilbur had taught her that it wasvery ugly, and now that she saw it again after a lapse of years she waspleased to note that her new residence, though slightly smaller, had amore modern and distinguished air. 

The new house was of rough-hewn red sandstone, combining solid dignityand some artistic merit, for Benham had not stood still architecturallyspeaking. The River Drive was a grotesque, yet on the whole encouragingexhibit. Most of the residences had been designed by native talent, butunder the spur of experiment even the plain, hard-headed builders hadbeen constrained to dub themselves "architects, " and adopt modernmethods; and here and there stood evidences that the seed planted byMrs. Hallett Taylor and Littleton had borne fruit, for Benham possessedat least half a dozen private houses which could defy criticism. 

The one selected by Mr. Parsons was not of these half dozen; but theplain, hard-headed builder who had erected it for the original owner wasshrewd and imitative, and had avoided ambitious deviations from the typehe wished to copy--the red sandstone, swell front variety, which tenyears before would have seemed to the moral sense of Benham undulycheerful. Mr. Parsons was so fortunate as to be able to buy it justafter it had been completed, together with a stable and half an acre ofground, from one of the few Benhamites whose financial ventures hadended in disaster, and who was obliged to sell. It was a more ambitiousresidence than Mr. Parsons had desired, but it was the most available, inasmuch as he could occupy it at once. It had been painted anddecorated within, but was unfurnished. Mr. Parsons, as a practicalbusiness man, engaged the builder to select and supply the bedroom andsolid fittings, but it occurred to him to invite Selma to choose thefurnishings for what he called the show rooms. 

Selma was delighted to visit once more the New York stores, free fromthe bridle of Wilbur's criticism and unrestrained by economy. She foundto her satisfaction that the internal decoration of the new house wasnot unlike that of the Williamses' first habitation--that is, gay andbedizened; and she was resolved in the selection of her draperies andornaments to buy things which suggested by their looks that they werehandsome, and whose claim to distinction was not mere soberunobtrusiveness. She realized that some of her purchases would have madeWilbur squirm, but since his death she felt more sure than ever thateven where art was concerned his taste was subdued, timid, andunimaginative. For instance, she believed that he would not haveapproved her choice of light-blue satin for the upholstery of thedrawing-room, nor of a marble statue--an allegorical figure of Truth, duly draped, as its most conspicuous ornament. 

Selma was spared the embarrassment of her first husband's presence. Divorce is no bar to ordinary feminine curiosity as to the whereaboutsof a former partner for life, and she had proved no exception to therule. Mrs. Earle had kept her posted as to Babcock's career since theirseparation, and what she learned had tended merely to demonstrate thewisdom and justice of her action. As a divorced man he had, after atime, resumed the free and easy, coarse companionship to which he hadbeen partial before his marriage, and had gradually become a heavydrinker. Presently he had neglected his business, a misfortune of whicha rival concern had been quick to take advantage. The trend of hisaffairs had been steadily downhill, and had come to a crisis threemonths before Littleton's death, when, in order to avoid insolvency, hesold out his factory and business to the rival company, and accepted atthe same hands the position of manager in a branch office in a cityfurther west. Consequently, Selma could feel free from molestation or anappeal to her sensibilities. She preferred to think of Babcock ascompletely outside her life, as dead to her, and she would have dislikedthe possibility of meeting him in the flesh while shopping on Centralavenue. It had been the only drawback to her proposed return to Benham. 

During the years of Selma's second marriage Benham had waxed rapidly inpopulation and importance. People had been attracted thither by thevaried industries of the city--alike those in search of fortune, andthose offering themselves for employment in the mills, oil-works, andpork factories; and at the date of Littleton's death it boasted over onehundred and fifty thousand inhabitants. It was already the second cityof the State in point of population, and was freely acknowledged to bethe most wide-awake and enterprising. The civic spirit of Benham wasreputed to be constantly and increasingly alert and progressive, notwithstanding the river Nye still ran the color of bean-soup abovewhere it was drawn for drinking purposes, and the ability of a plumber, who had become an alderman, to provide a statue or lay out a public parkwas still unquestioned by the majority. Even to-day, when trainedability has obtained recognition in many quarters, the Benhamites atlarge are apt to resent criticism as aristocratic fault-finding; yet atthis time that saving minority of souls who refused to regard everythingwhich Benham did as perfection, and whose subsequent forlorn hopes anddesperately won victories have little by little taught the communitywisdom, if not modesty, was beginning to utter disagreeable strictures. 

Mrs. Margaret Rodney Earle, when she opened her arms to Selma and foldedher to her bosom with a hug of welcome, was raging inwardly against thisminority, and they had not been many minutes together before she gaveutterance to her grievance. 

"You have come just in time to give us your sympathy and support in animportant matter, my dear. Miss Bailey has been nominated for the SchoolBoard at the instance of the Executive Committee of the BenhamInstitute. We supposed that she would have plain sailing, for many ofthe voters have begun to recognize the justice of having one or twowomen on the School Board, and by hard work we had succeeded in gettingher name put on the Democratic ticket. Judge, then, of our feelings whenwe learned that the Reform Club had decided to blacklist and refuse tosupport at the polls three of the six names on the ticket, including ourLuella Bailey, on the ground of lack of experience in educationalmatters. The Reform Club has nominated three other persons--one of thema woman. And who do you suppose is the head and front of this unholycrusade?"

"It sounds like Mrs. Hallett Taylor, " answered Selma, sternly. 

"How did you know? What made you think so? How clever of you, Selma!Yes, she is the active spirit. "

"It was she who was at the bottom of Miss Bailey's rejection when shewas my candidate for a position at Everdean College. "

"To be sure. I remember. This Reform Club, which was started a year orso ago, and which sets itself up as a censor of what we are trying to doin Benham, has nominated a Miss Snow, who is said to have travelledabroad studying the school systems of Europe. "

"As if that would help us in any way. "

"Precisely. She has probably come home with her head full ofqueer-fangled notions which would be out of keeping with ourinstitutions. Just the reason why she shouldn't be chosen. We aregreatly troubled as to the result, dear, for though we expect to win, the prejudice of some men against voting for a woman under anycircumstances will operate against our candidate, so that this action ofthe Reform Club may possibly be the means of electing one of the men onthe Republican ticket instead of Luella. Miss Snow hasn't the ghost of achance. But that isn't all. These Reform Club nominations arepreliminary to a bill before the Legislature to take away from thepeople the right to elect members of the school committee, andsubstitute an appointive board of specialists to serve during long termsof good behavior. As Mr. Lyons says, that's the real issue involved. It's quixotic and it isn't necessary. Haven't we always prided ourselveson our ability to keep our public schools the best in the world? And isthere any doubt, Selma, that either you or I would be fully qualified toserve on the School Board though we haven't made any special study ofprimers and geographies? Luella Bailey hasn't had any special training, but she's smart and progressive, and the poor thing would like therecognition. We fixed on her because we thought it would help her to getahead, for she has not been lucky in obtaining suitable employment. AsMr. Lyons says, a serious principle is involved. He has come out strongagainst the movement and declares that it is a direct menace to theintelligence of the plain people of the United States and a subtleinvasion of their liberties. "

"Mr. Lyons? What Mr. Lyons is that?"

"Yes, dear, it is the same one who managed your affair. Your Mr. Lyons. He has become an important man since you left Benham. He speaksdelightfully, and is likely to receive the next Democratic nominationfor Congress. He is in accord with all liberal movements, and a foe ofeverything exclusive, unchristian or arbitrary. He has declared hisintention to oppose the bill when it is introduced, and I shall devotemyself body and soul to working against it in case Luella Bailey isdefeated. It is awkward because Mrs. Taylor is a member of theInstitute, though she doesn't often come, and the club has never been inpolitics. But here when there was a chance to do Luella Bailey a goodturn, and I'd been able through some of my newspaper friends to get heron the ticket, it seems to me positively unchristian--yes, that's theword--to try to keep her off the board. There are some things of course, Luella couldn't do--and if the position were superintendent of ahospital, for instance, I dare say that special training would beadvantageous, though nursing can be picked up very rapidly by a keenintelligence: but to raise such objections in regard to a candidate forthe School Board seems to me ridiculous as well as cruel. Whatwe need there are open, receptive minds, free from fads andprejudice--wide-awake, progressive enthusiastic intellects. It worriesme to see the Institute dragged into politics, but it is my duty toresist this undemocratic movement. "

"Surely, " exclaimed Selma, with fire. "I am thankful I have come in timeto help you. I understand exactly. I have been passing through just suchexperiences in New York--encountering and being rebuffed by just suchpeople as those who belong to this Reform Club. My husband was beginningto see through them and to recognize that we were both tied hand andfoot by their narrowness and lack of enthusiasm when he died. If he hadlived, we would have moved to Benham shortly in order to escape frombondage. And one thing is certain, dear Mrs. Earle, " she continued withintensity, "we must not permit this carping spirit of hostility tooriginal and spontaneous effort to get a foothold in Benham. We mustcrush it, we must stamp it out. "

"Amen, my dear. I am delighted to hear you talk like that. I declare youwould be very effective in public if you were roused. "

"Yes, I am roused, and I am willing to speak in public if it becomesnecessary in order to keep Benham uncontaminated by the insidious cankerof exclusiveness and the distrust of aspiring souls which a few narrowminds choose to term untrained. Am _I_ untrained? Am _I_ superficial andcommon? Do _I_ lack the appearance and behavior of a lady?"

Selma accompanied these interrogatories with successive waves of thehand, as though she were branding so many falsehoods. 

"Assuredly not, Selma. I consider you"--and here Mrs. Earle gasped inthe process of choosing her words--"I consider you one of our besttrained and most independent minds--cultured, a friend of culture, andan earnest seeker after truth. If you are not a lady, neither am I, neither is anyone in Benham. Why do you ask, dear?" And without waitingfor an answer, Mrs. Earle added with a touch of material wisdom, "Youreturn to Benham under satisfactory, I might say, brilliant auspices. You will be the active spirit in this fine house, and be in a positionto promote worthy intellectual and moral movements. "

"Thank heavens, yes. And to combat those which are unworthy anddangerous, " exclaimed Selma, clasping her fingers, "I can count on thesupport of Mr. Parsons, God bless him! And it would seem at last as if Ihad, a real chance--a real chance at last. Mrs. Earle--Cora--I know youcan keep a secret. I feel almost as though you were my mother, for thereis no one else now to whom I can talk like this. I have not been happyin New York. I thought I was happy at first, but lately we have beenmiserable. My marriage--er--they drove my husband to the wall, andkilled him. He was sensitive and noble, but not practical, and he fell avictim to the mercenary despotism of our surroundings. When I tried tohelp him they became jealous of me, and shut their doors in our faces. "

"You poor, poor child. I have suspected for some time that something waswrong. "

"It nearly killed me. But now, thank heaven, I breathe freely once more. I have lost my dear husband, but I have escaped from that prison-house;and with his memory to keep me merciless, I am eager to wage war againstthose influences which are conspiring to fetter the free-born soul andstifle spontaneity. Luella Bailey must be elected, and these people betaught that foreign ideas may flourish in New York, but cannot obtainroot in Benham. "

Mrs. Earle wiped her eyes, which were running over as the result of thiscombination of confidence and eloquence. 

"If you don't mind my saying so, Selma, I never saw anyone so muchimproved as you. You always had ideas, and were well equipped, but nowyou speak as though you could remove mountains if necessary. It's ablessing for us as well as you that you're back among us once more. "

CHAPTER II. 

When Selma uttered her edict that Luella Bailey must be elected she didnot know that the election was only three days off. When she was toldthis by Mrs. Earle, she cast about feverishly during a few hours for themeans to compass certain victory, then promptly and sensibly disclaimedresponsibility for the result, suggesting even that her first appearanceas a remover of mountains be deferred to the time when the bill shouldbe before the Legislature. As she aptly explained to Mrs. Earle, thecanvass was virtually at an end, she was unacquainted with the practicalfeatures of the situation, and was to all intents a stranger in Benhamafter so long an absence. Mrs. Earle was unable to combat the logic ofthese representations, but she obtained from Selma a ready promise toaccompany the Benham Institute to the final rally on the evening beforeelection day and sit in a prominent place on the platform. The Institutewas to attend as a body by way of promoting the cause of its candidate, for though the meeting was called in aid of the entire Democraticmunicipal ticket, Hon. James O. Lyons, the leading orator of theoccasion, had promised to devote special attention to Miss Bailey, whoseelection, owing to the attitude of the Reform Club, was recognized as indoubt. Selma also agreed to accompany Mrs. Earle in a hack on the dayitself, and career through the city in search of recalcitrant orindifferent female voters, for the recently acquired right of Benhamwomen to vote for members of the School Board had not as yet beenexercised by any considerable number of the emancipated sex. 

As a part of the programme of the meeting the Benham Institute, or themajor portion of it (for there were a few who sympathized openly withMrs. Taylor), filed showily on to the platform headed by Mrs. Earle, whowaved her pocket handkerchief at the audience, which was the occasionfor renewed hand-clapping and enthusiasm. Selma walked not far behindand took her seat among the forty other members, who all wore white silkbadges stamped in red with the sentiment "A vote for Luella Bailey is avote for the liberty of the people. " Her pulses were throbbing withinterest and pleasure. This was the sort of thing she delighted in, andwhich she had hoped would be a frequent incident of her life in NewYork. It pleased her to think how naturally and easily she had taken herplace in the ranks of these earnest, enthusiastic workers, and that shehad merely to express a wish in order to have leadership urged upon her. Matters had shaped themselves exactly as she desired. Mr. Parsons notonly treated her completely as an equal, but consulted her in regard toeverything. He had already become obviously dependent on her, and hadbegun to develop the tendencies of an invalid. 

The exercises were of a partisan cast. The theory that municipalgovernment should be independent of party politics had been an adage inBenham since its foundation, and been disregarded annually bynine-tenths of the population ever since. This was a Democraticlove-feast. The speakers and the audience alike were in the best ofspirits, for there was no uncertainty in the minds of the party prophetsas to the result of the morrow's ballot--excepting with regard to MissBailey. The rest of the ticket would unquestionably be elected;accordingly all hands and voices were free to focus their energies inher behalf and thus make the victory a clean sweep. Nevertheless theearlier speakers felt obliged to let their eloquence flow over the wholerange of political misgovernment from the White House and the nationalplatform down, although the actual issue was the choice of a mayor, twelve aldermen and a school committee, so that only casual referencewas made to the single weak spot on the ticket until the Hon. James O. Lyons rose to address the meeting. The reception accorded him was morespontaneous and effusive than that which had been bestowed on either ofhis predecessors, and as he stood waiting with dignified urbanity forthe applause to subside, some rapturous admirer called for three cheers, and the tumult was renewed. 

Selma was thrilled. Her acquaintance with Mr. Lyons naturally heightenedher interest, and she observed him eagerly. Time had added to hiscorporeal weight since he had acted as her counsel, and enhanced thesober yet genial decorum of his bearing. His slightly pontifical airseemed an assurance against ill-timed levity. His cheeks were still fatand smooth shaven, but, like many of the successful men of Benham, henow wore a chin beard--a thick tuft of hair which in his case tapered sothat it bore some resemblance to the beard of a goat, and gave arough-and-ready aspect to his appearance suggestive alike of smart, solid worth and an absence of dandified tendencies. Mr. Parsons had athicker beard of the same character, which Selma regarded with favor asa badge of serious intentions. 

"My friends, " he began when the applause had subsided; then paused andsurveyed his audience in a manner which left them in doubt as to whetherhe was struggling with emotion or busy in silent prayer. "My friends, amonth ago to-day the citizens of Benham assembled to crown withappropriate and beautiful services the monument which they, thesurvivors, have erected with pious hands to perpetuate the memory ofthose who laid down their lives to keep intact our beloved union ofStates and to banish slavery forever from the confines of our aspiringcivilization. A week ago an equally representative assembly, withoutregard to creed or party, listened to the exercises attending thededication of the new Court House which we have raised to Justice--thatwhite-robed goddess, the guardian of the liberties of the people. Eachwas a notable and significant event. On each occasion I had the honor tosay a few poor words. We celebrated with bowed heads and with garlandsthe deeds of the heroic dead, and now have consecrated ourselves to theopportunities and possibilities of peace under the law--to therevelation of the temper of our new civilization which, tried in thefurnace of war, is to be a grand and vital power for the advancement ofthe human race, for the righteous furtherance of the brotherhood of man. What is the hope of the world?" he asked. "America--these United States, a bulwark against tyranny, an asylum for the aspiring and thedowntrodden. The eyes of the nations are upon us. In the souls of thesurvivors and of the sons and daughters of the patriots who have died indefence of the liberties of our beloved country abide the seed andinspiration for new victories of peace. Our privilege be it as the heirsof Washington and Franklin and Hamilton and Lincoln and Grant to set thenations of the earth an example of what peace under the law mayaccomplish, so that the free-born son of America from the shores of CapeCod to the western limits of the Golden Gate may remain a synonym fornoble aims and noble deeds, for truth and patriotism and fearlessness ofsoul. "

The speaker's words had been uttered slowly at the outset--ponderous, sonorous, sentence by sentence, like the big drops before a heavyshower. As he warmed to his theme the pauses ceased, and his speechflowed with the musical sweep of a master of platform oratory. When hespoke of war his voice choked; in speaking of peace he paused for anappreciable moment, casting his eyes up as though he could discern theangel of national tranquillity hovering overhead. Although this openingperoration seemed scarcely germane to the occasion, the audiencelistened in absorbed silence, spell-bound by the magnetism of hisdelivery. They felt sure that he had a point in reserve to which thesesplendid and agreeable truths were a pertinent introduction. 

Proceeding, with his address, Mr. Lyons made a panegyric on these UnitedStates of America, from the special standpoint of their dedication tothe "God of our fathers, " a solemn figure of speech. The sincerity ofhis patriotism was emphasized by the religious fervor of his deductionthat God was on the side of the nation, and the nation on the side ofGod. Though he abstained from direct strictures, both his manner and hismatter seemed to serve a caveat, so to speak, on the other nations bydeclaring that for fineness of heart and thought, and deed, the worldmust look to the land "whose wide and well-nigh boundless prairies wereblossoming with the buds of truth fanned by the breeze of liberty andfertilized by the aspirations of a God-fearing and a God-led population. What is the hope of the world, I repeat?" he continued. "The plain andsovereign people of our beloved country. Whatever menaces theirliberties, whatever detracts from their, power and infringes on theirprerogatives is a peril to our institutions and a step backward in thescience of government. My friends, we are here to-night to protestagainst a purpose to invade those liberties--a deliberately conceiveddesign to take away from the sovereign people of this city one of theircherished privileges--the right to decide who shall direct the policy ofour free public-school system, that priceless heritage of everyAmerican. I beg to remind you that this contest is no mere question ofhealthy rivalry between two great political parties; nor again is itonly a vigorous competition between two ambitious and intelligent women. A ballot in behalf of our candidate will be a vote of confidence in theability of the plain people of this country to adopt the besteducational methods without the patronizing dictation of aboard ofspecialists nurtured on foreign and uninspiring theories of instruction. A ballot against Miss Luella Bailey, the competent and cultivated ladywhose name adds strength and distinction to our ticket, and who has beenneedlessly and wantonly opposed by those who should be her proudfriends, will signify a willingness to renounce one of our most preciousliberties--the free man's right to choose those who are to impart to hischildren mastery of knowledge and love of country. I take my standto-night as the resolute enemy of this aristocratic and un-Americansuggestion, and urge you, on the eve of election, to devote yourenergies to overwhelming beneath the shower of your fearless ballotsthis insult to the intelligence of the voters of Benham, and this menaceto our free and successful institutions, which, under the guidance ofthe God of our fathers, we purpose to keep perpetually progressive andundefiled. "

A salvo of enthusiasm greeted Mr. Lyons as he concluded. His speecheswere apt to cause those whom he addressed to feel that they were nocommon campaign utterances, but eloquent expressions of principle andconviction, clothed in memorable language, as, indeed, they were. He wasfond of giving a moral or patriotic flavor to what he said in public, for he entertained both a profound reverence for high moral ideas and anabiding faith in the superiority of everything American. He had arrayedhimself on the threshold of his legal career as a friend and champion ofthe mass of the people--the plain and sovereign people, as he was apt tostyle them in public. His first and considerable successes had been asthe counsel for plaintiffs before juries in accident cases against largecorporations, and he had thought of himself with complete sincerity as aplain man, contesting for human rights before the bar of justice, by thesheer might of his sonorous voice and diligent brain. His politicaldevelopment had been on the same side. Latterly the situation had becomea little puzzling, though to a man of straightforward intentions, likehimself, not fundamentally embarrassing. That is, the last four or fiveyears had altered both the character of his practice and hiscircumstances, so that instead of fighting corporations he was now theclose adviser of a score of them; not the defender of their accidentcases, but the confidential attorney who was consulted in regard totheir vital interests, and who charged them liberal sums for hisservices. He still figured in court from time to time in his capacity ofthe plain man's friend, which he still considered himself to be no lessthan before, but most of his time was devoted to protecting the legalinterests of the railroad, gas, water, manufacturing, mining and otherundertakings which, the rapid growth of Benham had forgotten. And as aresult of this commerce with the leading men of affairs in Benham, andknowledge of what was going on, he had been able to invest his largefees to the best advantage, and had already reaped a rich harvest fromthe rapid rise in value of the securities of diverse successfulenterprises. When new projects were under consideration he was in aposition to have a finger in the pie, and he was able to borrow freelyfrom a local bank in which he was a director. 

He was puzzled--it might be said distressed--how to make these rewardsof his professional prominence appear compatible with his real politicalprinciples, so that the plain and sovereign people would recognize asclearly as he that there was no inconsistency in his having takenadvantage of the opportunities for professional advancement thrown inhis way. He was ambitious for political preferment, sharing the growingimpression that he was well qualified for public office, and he desiredto rise as the champion of popular ideas. Consequently he resentedbitterly the calumnies which had appeared in one or two irresponsiblenewspapers to the effect that he was becoming a corporation attorney anda capitalist. Could a man refuse legitimate business which was thrustupon him? How were his convictions and interest in the cause ofstruggling humanity altered or affected by his success at the bar? Hencehe neglected no occasion to declare his allegiance to progressivedoctrine, and to give utterance to the patriotism which at all times wason tap in his emotional system. He had been married, but his wife hadbeen dead a number of years, and he made his home with his aged mother, to whom he was apt to refer with pious tremulousness when he desired toemphasize some domestic situation before a jury. As a staunch member ofthe Methodist Church, he was on terms of intimate association with hispastor, and was known as a liberal contributor to domestic and foreignmissions. 

Selma was genuinely carried away by the character of his oratory. Hissentiments were so completely in accord with her own ideas that she felthe had left nothing unsaid, and had put the case grandly. Here at lastwas a man who shared with her the convictions with which her brain wasseething--a man who was not afraid to give public expression to hisviews, and who possessed a splendid gift of statement. She had felt surethat she would meet sympathy and kindred spirits in Benham, but herexperience in New York had so far depressed her that she had not allowedherself to expect such a thorough-going champion. What a contrast hissolid, devotional, yet business-like aspect was to the quizzicallightness of the men in New York she had been told were clever, like Dr. Page and Mr. Dennison! He possessed Wilbur's ardor and reverence, with arobustness of physique and a practical air which Wilbur hadlacked--lacked to his and her detriment. If Wilbur had been as vigorousin body as he ought to have been, would he have died? She had readsomewhere lately that physical delicacy was apt to react on the mind andmake one's ideas too fine-spun and unsubstantial. Here was the advantagewhich a man like Mr. Lyons had over Wilbur. He was strong and thickset, and looked as though he could endure hard work without wincing. So couldshe. It was a great boon, an essential of effective manhood orwomanhood. These thoughts followed in the wake of the enthusiasm hispersonality had aroused in her at the close of his address. She scarcelyheard the remarks of the next speaker, the last on the programme. Hereyes kept straying wistfully in the direction of Mr. Lyons, and shewondered if there would be an opportunity when the meeting was over tolet him know how much she approved of what he had said, and hownecessary she felt the promulgation, of such ideas was for the welfareof the country. 

She was aroused from contemplation by the voice of Mrs. Earle, who, nowthat everybody was standing up preliminary to departure, bent over herfront bench on the platform to whisper, "Wasn't Mr. Lyons splendid?"

"Yes, indeed, " said Selma. "I should like so much to make hisacquaintance, to compare notes with him and thank him for his brave, true words. "

"I know he'd be pleased to meet you. I'll try to catch his eye. I wishsome of those Reform Club people could have heard what he thought ofthem. There! He's looking this way. I'm going to attract his attention. "Whereupon Mrs. Earle began to nod in his direction energetically. "Hesees us now, and has noticed you. I shouldn't wonder if he hasrecognized you. Follow me close, Selma, and we'll be able to shake handswith him. "

By dint of squeezing and stertorous declarations of her desire, Mrs. Earle obtained a gradual passage through the crowd. Many from theaudience had ascended to the platform for the purpose of accosting thespeakers, and a large share of the interest was being bestowed on Mr. Lyons, who was holding an impromptu reception. When at last Mrs. Earlehad worked her way to within a few feet of him, her wheezing conditionand bulk announced her approach, and procured her consideration from theothers in the line, so that she was able to plant herself pervasivelyand firmly in front of her idol and take possession of him by the fervidannouncement, "You were simply unanswerable. Eloquent, convincing, andunanswerable. And I have brought with me an old friend, Mrs. Littleton, who sympathizes with your superb utterances, and wishes to tell you so. "

As Selma stepped forward in recognition of this introduction shevibrated to hear Mr. Lyons say, without a sign of hesitation, "A friendwhom it is a pleasure to welcome back to Benham, Mrs. Littleton, I ampleased to meet you again. "

Selma had hoped, and felt it her due, that he would recognize her. Stillhis having done so at once was a compliment which served to enhance thefavorable opinion which she had already formed regarding him. 

"I have been longing for months, Mr. Lyons, " she said, "to hear someonesay what you have said to-night. I am concerned, as we all are ofcourse, in Miss Bailey's election, and your advocacy of her cause wasmost brilliant; but what I refer to--what interested, me especially, wasthe splendid protest you uttered against all movements to prevent theintelligence of the people from asserting itself. It gave meencouragement and made me feel that the outlook for the future isbright--that our truths must prevail. "

It was a maxim with Lyons that it was desirable to remember everyone hemet, and he prided himself on his ability to call cordially by nameclients or chance acquaintances whom he had not seen for years. Naturehad endowed him with a good memory for names and faces, but he hadlearned to take advantage of all opportunities to brush up his witsbefore they were called into flattering, spontaneous action. When hisglance, attracted by Mrs. Earle's remote gesticulation, rested onSelma's face, he began to ask himself at once where he had seen itbefore. In the interval vouchsafed by her approach he recalled theincident of the divorce, that her name had been Babcock, and that shehad married again, but he was still groping for the name of her husbandwhen the necessary clew was supplied by Mrs. Earle, and he was able tomake his recognition of her exhaustive. He noticed with approval herpretty face and compact figure, reflecting that the slight gain in fleshwas to her advantage, and noticed also her widow's mourning. But hereager, fluent address and zealous manner had prevented his attentionfrom secretly wandering with business-like foresight to the next personsin the line of those anxious to shake his hand, and led him to regardher a second time. He was accustomed to compliments, but he was struckby the note of discriminating companionship in her congratulation. Hebelieved that he had much at heart the very issue which she had touchedupon, and it gratified him that a woman whose appearance was soattractive to him should single out for sympathetic enthusiasm what wasin his opinion the cardinal principle involved, instead of expatiatingon the assistance he had rendered Miss Bailey. Lyons said to himselfthat here was a kindred spirit--a woman with whom conversation would bea pleasure; with whom it would be possible to discourse on terms ofmental comradeship. He was partial to comely women, but he did notapprove of frivolity except on special and guarded occasions. 

"I thank you cordially for your appreciation, " he answered. "You havegrasped the vital kernel of my speech and I am grateful for your goodopinion. "

Even in addressing the other sex, Lyons could not forget theresponsibility of his frock-coat and that it was incumbent upon him tobe strictly serious in public. Nevertheless his august but glib demeanorsuited Selma's mood better than more obvious gallantry, especially asshe got the impression, which he really wished to convey, that headmired her. It was out of the question for him to prolong the situationin the face of those waiting to grasp his hand, but Lyons heard withinterest the statement which Mrs. Earle managed to whisper hoarsely inhis ear just as he turned to welcome the next comer, and they were sweptalong:

"She is one of our brightest minds. The poor child has recently lost herhusband, and has come to keep Mr. Parsons company in his new house--anideal arrangement. "

The identity of Mr. Parsons was well known to Lyons. He had met himoccasionally in the past in other parts of the State in connection withbusiness complications, and regarded him as a practical, intelligentcitizen whose name would be of value to an aspirant for Congressionalhonors. It occurred to him as he shook hands with those next in line andaddressed them that it would be eminently suitable if he should pay hisrespects to this new-comer to Benham by a visit. By so doing he worldkill two birds with one stone, for he had reasoned of late that he owedit to himself to see more of the other sex. He had no specificmatrimonial intentions; that is, he was not on the lookout for a wife;but he approved of happy unions as one of the great bulwarks of thecommunity, and was well-disposed to encounter a suitable helpmate. Heshould expect physical charms, dignity, capacity and a sympathetic mind;a woman, in short, who would be an ornament to his home, a Christianinfluence in society and a companion whose intelligent tact would belikely to promote his political fortunes. And so it happened that in thecourse of the next few days he found himself thinking of Mrs. Littletonas a fine figure of a woman. This had not happened to him before sincethe death of his wife, and it made him thoughtful to the extent ofasking "Why not?" For in spite of his long frock-coat and properdemeanor, passion was not extinct in the bosom of the Hon. James O. Lyons, and he was capable on special and guarded occasions of telling awoman that he loved her. 

CHAPTER III. 

Miss Luella Bailey was not elected. The unenlightened prejudice of manto prefer one of his own sex, combined with the hostility of the ReformClub, procured her defeat, notwithstanding that the rest of her tickettriumphed at the polls. There was some consolation for her friends inthe fact that her rival, Miss Snow, had a considerably smaller number ofvotes than she. Selma solaced herself by the reflection that, as she hadbeen consulted only at the twelfth hour, she was not responsible for theresult, but she felt nerved by the defeat to concentrate her energiesagainst the proposed bill for an appointed school board. 

Her immediate attention and sympathy were suddenly invoked by theillness of Mr. Parsons, who had seemed lacking in physical vigor forsome weeks, and whose symptoms culminated in a slight paralysis, whichconfined him to his bed for a month, and to his house during theremainder of the autumn. Selma rejoiced in this opportunity to developher capacities as a nurse, to prove how adequate she would have been totake complete charge of her late husband, had Dr. Page chosen to trusther. She administered with scrupulous regularity to the invalid suchmedicines as were ordered, and kept him cheerful by reading andconversation, so that the physician in charge complimented her on herproficiency. Trained nurses were unknown in Benham at this time, and anyold or unoccupied female was regarded as qualified to watch over thesick. Selma appreciated from what she had observed of the conduct ofWilbur's nurse that there was a wrong and a right way of doing things, but she blamed Dr. Page for his failure to appreciate instinctively thatshe was sure to do things suitably. It seemed to her that he had lackedthe intuitive gift to discern latent capabilities--a fault of which theBenham practitioner proved blameless. 

From the large, sunny chamber in which Mr. Parsons slowly recovered someportion of his vitality, Selma could discern the distant beginnings ofWetmore College, pleasantly situated on an elevation well beyond thecity limits on the further side of the winding river. An architect hadbeen engaged to carry out Wilbur's plans, and she watched the outlinesof the new building gradually take shape during the convalescence of herbenefactor. She recognized that the college would be theoretically anoble addition to the standing of Benham as a city of intellectual andæsthetic interests, but it provoked her to think that its management wasin the hands of Mrs. Hallett Taylor and her friends, between whom andherself she felt that a chasm of irreconcilable differences of opinionexisted. Mrs. Taylor had not called on her since her return. Shebelieved that she was glad of this, and hoped that some of the severelyindignant criticism which she had uttered in regard to the Reform Clubmovement had reached her ears. Or was Mrs. Taylor envious of her returnto Benham as the true mistress of this fine establishment on the RiverDrive, so superior to her own? Nevertheless, it would have suited Selmato have been one of the trustees of this new college--her husband'shandiwork in the doing of which he had laid down his promising life--andthe fact that no one had sought her out and offered her the honor as afitting recognition of her due was secretly mortifying. The BenhamInstitute had been prompt to acknowledge her presence by giving areception in her honor, at which she was able to recite once more, "Oh, why should the Spirit of Mortal be proud?" with old-time success, andshe had been informed by Mrs. Earle that she was likely to be chosen oneof the Vice-Presidents at the annual meeting. But these Reform Clubpeople had not even done her the courtesy to ask her to join them orconsider their opinions. She would have spurned the invitation withcontempt, but it piqued her not to know more about them; it distressedher to think that there should exist in Benham an exclusive set whichprofessed to be ethically and intellectually superior and did notinclude her, for she had come to Benham with the intention of leadingsuch a movement, to the detriment of fashion and frivolity. With Mr. Parsons's money at her back, she was serenely confident that the housesof the magnates of Benham--the people who corresponded in her mind's eyeto the dwellers on Fifth Avenue--would open to her. Already there hadbeen flattering indications that she would be able to command attentionthere. She had expected to find this so; her heart would have beenbroken to find it otherwise. Still, her hope in shaking the dust of NewYork from her feet had been to find in Benham an equally admirable andsatisfactory atmosphere in regard to mental and moral progress. She hadcome just in time, it is true, to utter her vehement protest againstthis exclusive, aristocratic movement--this arrogant affectation ofsuperiority, and to array herself in battle line against it, resolved togive herself up with enthusiasm to its annihilation. Yet the sight ofthe college buildings for the higher education of women, rising withouther furtherance and supervision, and under the direction of thesepeople, made her sad and gave her a feeling of disappointment. Why hadthey been permitted to obtain this foothold? Someone had been lacking invigilance and foresight. Thank heaven, with her return and a strong, popular spirit like Mr. Lyons in the lead, these unsympathetic, so-called reformers would speedily be confounded, and the intellectualair of Benham restored to its original purity. 

One afternoon while Selma's gaze happened to be directed toward theembryo college walls, and she was incubating on the situation, Mr. Parsons, who had seemed to be dozing, suddenly said:

"I should like you to write to Mr. Lyons, the lawyer, and ask him tocome to see me. "

"I will write to-night. You know he called while you were ill. "

"Yes, I thought him a clever fellow when we met two or three times onrailroad matters, and I gather from what you told me about his speech atthe political meeting that he's a rising man hereabouts. I'm going tomake my will, and I need him to put it into proper shape. "

"I'm sure he'd do it correctly. "

"There's not much for him to do except to make sure that the language islegal, for I've thought it all out while I've been lying here duringthese weeks. Still, it's important to have in a lawyer to fix it so thepeople whom I don't intend to get my money shan't be able to make outthat I'm not in my right mind. I guess, " he added, with a laugh, "thatthe doctor will allow I've my wits sufficiently for that?"

"Surely. You are practically well now. "

Mr. Parsons was silent for a moment. He prided himself on beingclose-mouthed about his private affairs until they were ripe forutterance. His intention had been to defer until after the interviewwith his lawyer any statement of his purpose, but it suddenly occurredto him that it would please him to unbosom his secret to his companionbecause he felt sure in advance that she would sympathize fully with hisplans. He had meant to tell her when the instrument was signed. Why notnow?

"Selma, " he said, "I've known ever since my wife and daughter died thatI ought to make a will, but I kept putting it off until it has almosthappened that everything I've got went to my next of kin--folk I'm fondof, too, and mean to remember--but not fond enough for that. If I givethem fifty thousand dollars apiece--the three of them--I shall rest easyin my grave, even if they think they ought to have had a bigger slice. It's hard on a man who has worked all his days, and laid up close to amillion of dollars, not to have a son or a daughter, flesh of my flesh, to leave it to; a boy or a girl given at the start the education Ididn't get, and who, by the help of my money, might make me proud, if Icould look on, of my name or my blood. It wasn't to be, and I must grinand bear it, and do the next best thing. I caught a glimpse of what thatthing was soon after I lost my wife and daughter, and it was the thoughtof that more than anything which kept me from going crazy with despair. I'm a plain man, an uneducated man, but the fortune I've made has beenmade honestly, and I'm going to spend it for the good of the Americanpeople--to contribute my mite toward helping the cause of truth and goodcitizenship and free and independent ideas which this nation calls for. I'm going to give my money for benevolent uses. "

"Oh, Mr. Parsons, " exclaimed Selma, clasping her hands, "how splendid!how glorious! How I envy you. It was what I hoped. "

"I knew you would be pleased. I've had half a mind once or twice to letthe cat out of the bag, because I guessed it would be the sort of thingthat would take your fancy; but somehow I've kept mum, for fear I mightbe taken before I'd been able to make a will. And then, too, I've beenof several minds as to the form of my gift. I thought it would suit mebest of all to found a college, and I was disappointed when I learnedthat neighbor Flagg had got the start of me with his seminary for womenacross the river. I wasn't happy over it until one night, just after thedoctor had gone, the thought came to me, 'Why, not give a hospital?' Andthat's what it's to be. Five hundred thousand dollars for a freehospital in the City of Benham, in memory of my wife and daughter. That'll be useful, won't it? That'll help the people as much as acollege? And, Selma, " he added, cutting off the assuring answer whichtrembled on her tongue and blazed from her eyes, "I shan't forget you. After I'm gone you are to have twenty thousand dollars. That'll enableyou, in case you don't marry, to keep a roof over your head withoutworking too hard. "

"Thank you. You are very generous, " she said. The announcement waspleasant to her, but at the moment it seemed of secondary importance. Her enthusiasm had been aroused by the fact and character of his publicdonation, and already her brain was dancing with the thought of theprospect of a rival vital institution in connection with which her viewsand her talents would in all probability be consulted and allowed toexercise themselves. Her's, and not Mrs. Taylor's, or any of thatcensorious and restricting set. In that hospital, at least, ambition andoriginality would be allowed to show what they could do unfettered byenvy or paralyzed by conservatism. "But I can't think of anything now, Mr. Parsons, except the grand secret you have confided to me. Ahospital! It is an ideal gift. It will show the world what noble usesour rich, earnest-minded men make of their money, and it will give ourdoctors and our people a chance to demonstrate what a free hospitalought to be. Oh, I congratulate you. I will write to Mr. Lyons at once. "

A note in prompt response stated the hour when the lawyer would call. Onhis arrival he was shown immediately to Mr. Parsons's apartments, withwhom he was closeted alone. Selma managed to cross the hall at themoment he was descending, and he was easily persuaded to linger and tofollow her into the library. 

"I was anxious to say a few words to you, Mr. Lyons, " she said. "I knowthe purpose for which Mr. Parsons sent for you. He has confided to meconcerning his will--told me everything. It is a noble disposition ofhis property. A free hospital for Benham is an ideal selection, and oneenvies him his opportunity. "

"Yes. It is a superb and generous benefaction. "

"I lay awake for hours last night thinking about it; thinkingparticularly of the special point I am desirous to consult you in regardto. I don't wish to appear officious, or to say anything I shouldn't, but knowing from what I heard you state in your speech the other daythat you feel as I do in regard to such matters, I take the liberty ofsuggesting that it seems to me of very great importance that themanagement of this magnificent gift should be in proper hands. May I askyou without impropriety if you will protect Mr. Parsons so that captiousor unenthusiastic persons, men or women, will be unable to control thepolicy of his hospital? He would wish it so, I am sure. I thought ofmentioning the matter to him myself, but I was afraid lest it mightworry him and spoil the satisfaction of his generosity or retard hiscure. Is what I ask possible? Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly--perfectly. A valuable suggestion, " he said. "I am glad thatyou have spoken--very glad. Alive as I am to the importance ofprotecting ourselves at all points, I might not have realized thisparticular danger had you not called it to my attention. Perhaps only aclever woman would have thought of it. "

"Oh, thank you. I felt that I could not keep silence, and run the riskof what might happen. "

"Precisely. I think I can relieve your mind by telling you--which underthe circumstances is no breach of professional secrecy, for it is plainthat the testator desires you to know his purpose--that Mr. Parsons hasdone me the honor to request me to act as the executor of his will. Assuch I shall be in a position to make sure that those to whom themanagement of his hospital is intrusted are people in whom you and Iwould have confidence. "

"Ah! That is very satisfactory. It makes everything as it should be, andI am immensely relieved. "

"Now that you have spoken, " he added, meeting her eager gaze with apropitiating look of reflective wisdom, "I will consider theadvisability of taking the further precaution of advising the testatorto name in his will the persons who shall act as the trustees of hischarity. That would clinch the matter. The selection of the individualswould necessarily lie with Mr. Parsons, but it would seem eminentlynatural and fitting that he should name you to represent your sex onsuch a board. I hope it would be agreeable to you to serve?"

Selma flushed. "It would be a position which I should prize immensely. Such a possibility had not occurred to me, though I felt that somedefinite provision should be made. The responsibility would be congenialto me and very much in my line. "

"Assuredly. If you will permit me to say so, you are just the woman forthe place. We have met only a few times, Mrs. Littleton, but I am a manwho forms my conclusions of people rapidly, and it is obvious to me thatyou are thoughtful, energetic, and liberal-minded--qualities which areespecially requisite for intelligent progress in semi-public work. It isessentially desirable to enlist the co-operation of well-equipped womento promote the national weal. "

Lyons departed with an agreeable impression that he had been talking toa woman who combined mental sagacity and enterprise with considerablefascination of person. This capable companion of Mr. Parsons was nocoquettish or simpering beauty, no mere devotee of fashionable manners, but a mature, well-poised character endowed with ripe intellectual andbodily graces. Their interview suggested that she possessed initiativeand discretion in directing the course of events, and a strong sense ofmoral responsibility, attributes which attracted his interest. He wasobliged to make two more visits before the execution of the will, and oneach occasion he had an opportunity to spend a half-hour alone in thesociety of Selma. He found her gravely and engagingly sympathetic withhis advocacy of democratic principles; he told her of his ambition to beelected to Congress--an ambition which he believed would be realized thefollowing autumn. He confided to her, also, that he was engaged in hisleisure moments in the preparation of a literary volume to be entitled, "Watchwords of Patriotism, " a study of the requisites of the bestcitizenship, exemplified by pertinent extracts from the publicutterances of the most distinguished American public servants. 

Selma on her part reciprocated by a reference to the course of lectureson "Culture and Higher Education, " which she had resolved to deliverbefore the Benham Institute during the winter. In these lectures shemeant to emphasize the importance of unfettered individuality, and tocomment adversely on the tendencies hostile to this fundamentalprinciple of progress which she had observed in New York and from whichBenham itself did not appear to her to be entirely exempt. Afterdelivering these lectures in Benham she intended to repeat them invarious parts of the State, and in some of the large cities elsewhere, under the auspices of the Confederated Sisterhood of Women's Clubs ofAmerica, the Sorosis which Mrs. Earle had established on a firm basis, and of which at present she was second vice-president. As a token ofsympathy with this undertaking, Mr. Lyons offered to procure her a freepass on the railroads over which she would be obliged to travel. Thispleased Selma greatly, for she had always regarded free passes as a signof mysterious and enviable importance. 

Two months later Selma, as secretary of the sub-committee of theInstitute selected to oppose before the legislature the bill to createan appointed school board, had further occasion to confer with Mr. Lyons. He agreed to be the active counsel, and approved of the plan thata delegation of women should journey to the capital, two hours and ahalf by rail, and add the moral support of their presence at the hearingbefore the legislative committee. 

The expedition was another gratification to Selma--who had becomepossessed of her free pass. She felt that in visiting the state-houseand thus taking an active part in the work of legislation she wasbeginning to fulfil the larger destiny for which she was qualified. Sideby side with Mrs. Earle at the head of a delegation of twenty Benhamwomen she marched augustly into the committee chamber. The contendingfactions sat on opposite sides of the room. Through its middle ran along table occupied by the Committee on Education to which the bill hadbeen referred. Among the dozen or fifteen persons who appeared insupport of the bill Selma perceived Mrs. Hallett Taylor, whom she hadnot seen since her return. She was disappointed to observe that Mrs. Taylor's clothes, though unostentatious, were in the latest fashion. Shehad hoped to find her dowdy or unenlightened, and to be able to lookdown on her from the heights of her own New York experience. 

The lawyer in charge of the bill presented lucidly and with skill themerits of his case, calling to the stand four prominent educators fromas many different sections of the State, and several citizens ofwell-known character, among them Babcock's former pastor, Rev. HenryGlynn. He pointed out that the school committee, as at presentconstituted, was an unwieldy body of twenty-four members, that it wasregarded as the first round in the ladder of political preferment, andthat the members which composed it were elected not on the ground oftheir fitness, but because they were ambitious for politicalrecognition. 

The legislative committee listened politely but coldly to thesestatements and to the testimony of the witnesses. It was evident thatthey regarded the proposed reform with distrust. 

"Do you mean us to understand that the public schools of this State arenot among the best, if not the best, in the world?" asked one member ofthe committee, somewhat sternly. 

"I recognize the merits of our school system, but I am not blind to itsfaults, " responded the attorney in charge of the bill. He was a man whopossessed the courage of his convictions, but he was a lawyer of tact, and he knew that his answer went to the full limit of what he couldsafely utter by way of qualification without hopelessly imperilling hiscause. 

"Are not our public schools turning out yearly hundreds of boys andgirls who are a growing credit to the soundness of the institutions ofthe country?" continued the same inquisitor. 

Here was a proposition which opened such a vista of circuitous andcareful speech, were he to attempt to answer it and be true toconscience without being false to patriotism, that Mr. Hunter was drivento reply, "I am unable to deny the general accuracy of your statement. "

"Then why seek to harass those who are doing such good work byunfriendly legislation?"

The member plainly felt that he had disposed of the matter by thistriumphant interrogation, for he listened with scant attention to arepetition of the grounds on which, relief was sought. 

Mr. Lyons's method of reply was a surprise to Selma. She had looked fora fervid vindication of the principle of the people's choice, and aneloquent, sarcastic setting forth of the evils of the exclusive andaristocratic spirit. He began by complimenting the members of thecommittee on their ability to deal intelligently with the importantquestion before them, and then proceeded to refer to the sincere butmistaken zeal of the advocates of the bill, whom he described as peopleanimated by conscientious motives, but unduly distrustful of thecapacity of the American people. His manner suggested a desire to be atpeace with all the world and was agreeably conciliatory, as though hedeprecated the existence of friction. He said that he would not do themembers of the committee the injustice to suppose that they couldseriously favor the passage of a bill which would deprive theintelligent average voter of one of his dearest privileges; but that hedesired to put himself on record as thinking it a fortunatecircumstance, on the whole, that the well-intentioned promoters of thebill had brought this matter to the attention of the legislature, andhad an opportunity to express their views. He believed that the hearingwould be productive of benefit to both parties, in that on the one handit would tend to make the voters more careful as to whom they selectedfor the important duties of the school board, and on the otherwould--he, as a lover of democratic institutions, hoped--serve toconvince the friends of the bill that they had exaggerated the evils ofthe situation, and that they were engaged in a false and hopelessundertaking in seeking to confine by hard and fast lines the spontaneousyearnings of the American people to control the education of theirchildren. "We say to these critics, " he continued, "some of whom areenrolled under the solemn name of reformers, that we welcome their zealand offer co-operation in a resolute purpose to exercise unswervingvigilance in the selection of candidates for the high office ofguardians of our public schools. So far as they will join hands with usin keeping undefiled the traditions of our forefathers, to that extentwe are heartily in accord with them, but when they seek to overridethose traditions and to fasten upon this community a method which isbased on a lack of confidence in democratic theories, then I--andgentlemen, I feel sure that you--are against them. "

Lyons sat down, having given everyone in the room, with the exception ofa few discerning spirits on the other side, the impression that he hadintended to be pre-eminently fair, and that he had held out the olivebranch when he would have been justified in using the scourge. Theinclination to make friends, to smooth over seamy situations and toavoid repellent language in dealing with adversaries, except incorporation cases before juries and on special occasions when defendinghis political convictions, had become a growing tendency with him nowthat he was in training for public office. Selma did not quite know whatto make of it at first. She had expected that he would crush theiropponents beneath an avalanche of righteous invective. Instead he tookhis seat with an expression of countenance which was no less benignantthan dignified. When the hearing was declared closed, a few minuteslater, he looked in her direction, and in the course of his passage towhere she was sitting stopped to exchange affable greetings withassemblymen and others who came in his way. At his approach Mrs. Earleuttered congratulations so comprehensive that Selma felt able to refrainfor the moment from committing herself. "I am glad that you werepleased, " he said. "I think I covered the ground, and no one's feelingshave been hurt. " As though he divined what was passing through Selma'smind, he added in an aside intended only for their ears, "It was notnecessary to use all our powder, for I could tell from the way thecommittee acted that they were with us. "

"I felt sure they would be, " exclaimed Mrs. Earle. "And, as you say, itis a pleasure that no one's feelings were hurt, and that we can all partfriends. "

"Which reminds me, " said Lyons, "that I should be glad of anintroduction to Mrs. Taylor as she passes us on her way out. I wish toassure her personally of my willingness to further her efforts toimprove the quality of the school board. "

"That would be nice of you, " said Mrs. Earle, "and ought to please andencourage her, for she will be disappointed, poor thing, and after all Isuppose she means well. There she is now, and I will keep my eye onher. "

"But surely, Mr. Lyons, " said Selma, dazed yet interested by thisdoctrine of brotherly love, "don't you think our school committeeadmirable as it is?"

"A highly efficient body, " he answered. "But I should be glad to haveour opponents--mistaken as we believe them to be--appreciate that we noless than they are zealous to preserve the present high standard. Wemust make them recognize that we are reformers and in sympathy withreform. "

"I see, " said Selma. "For, of course, we are the real reformers. Convertthem you mean? Be civil to them at least? I understand. Yes, I supposethere is no use in making enemies of them. " She was thinking aloud. Though ever on her guard to resent false doctrine, she was so sure ofthe loyalty of both her companions that she could allow herself to beinterested by this new point of view--a vast improvement on the New Yorkmanner because of its ethical suggestion. She realized that if Mr. Lyonswas certain of the committee, it was right, and at the same timesensible, not to hurt anyone's feelings unnecessarily--although she felta little suspicious because he had asked to be introduced to Mrs. Taylor. Indeed, the more she thought of this attitude, on the assumptionthat the victory was assured, the more it appealed to her conscience andintelligence; so much so that when Mrs. Earle darted forward to detainMrs. Taylor, Selma was reflecting with admiration on his magnanimity. 

She observed intently the meeting between Mr. Lyons and Mrs. Taylor. Hewas deferential, complimentary, and genial, and he made a suave, impressive offer of his personal services, in response to which Mrs. Taylor regarded him with smiling incredulity--a smile which Selmaconsidered impertinent. How dared she treat his courtly advances withflippant distrust!

"Are you aware, Mr. Lyons, " Mrs. Taylor was saying, "that one of thepresent members of the school board is a milkman, and another acarpenter--both of them persons of very ordinary efficiency from aneducational standpoint? Will you co-operate with us, when their termsexpire next year and they seek re-election, to nominate more suitablecandidates in their stead?"

"I shall be very glad when the time comes to investigate carefully theirqualifications, and if they are proved to be unworthy of the confidenceof the people, to use my influence against them. You may rely onthis--rely on my cordial support, and the support of these ladies, " headded, indicating Mrs. Earle and Selma, with a wave of his hand, "who, if you will permit me to say so, are no less interested than you inpromoting good government. "

"Oh, yes, indeed. We thought we were making an ideal choice in MissLuella Bailey, " said Mrs. Earle with effusion. "If Mrs. Taylor had seenmore of her, I feel sure she would have admired her, and then ourInstitute would not have been dragged into politics. "

Mrs. Taylor did not attempt to answer this appeal. Instead she greetedSelma civilly, and said, "I was sorry to hear that you were against us, Mrs. Littleton. We were allies once in a good cause, and in spite of Mr. Lyons's protestations to the contrary, I assure you that this is anothergenuine opportunity to improve the existing order of things. At least, "she added, gayly but firmly, "you must not let Mr. Lyons's predilectionto see everything through rose-colored spectacles prevent you fromlooking into the matter on your own account. "

"I have done so already, " answered Selma, affronted at the suggestionthat she was uninformed, yet restrained from displaying her annoyance bythe sudden inspiration that here was an admirable opportunity topractise the proselytizing forbearance suggested by Mr. Lyons. The ideaof patronizing Mrs. Taylor from the vantage-ground of infallibility, tinctured by magnanimous condescension, appealed to her. "I have made athorough study of the question, and I never could look at it as you do, Mrs. Taylor. I sided with you before because I thought you wereright--because you were in favor of giving everyone a chance ofexpression. But now I'm on the other side for the same reason--becauseyou and your friends are disposed to deprive people of that very thing, and to regard their aspirations and their efforts contemptuously, if Imay say so. That's the mistake we think you make--we who, as Mr. Lyonshas stated, are no less eager than you to maintain the present highcharacter of everything which concerns our school system. But if youonly would see things in a little different light, both Mrs. Earle and Iwould be glad to welcome you as an ally and to co-operate with you. "

Selma had not expected to make such a lengthy speech, but as sheproceeded she was spurred by the desire to teach Mrs. Taylor her properplace, and at the same time to proclaim her own allegiance to theattitude of optimistic forbearance. 

"I knew that was the way they felt, " said Lyons, ingratiatingly. "Itwould be a genuine pleasure to us all to see this unfortunate differenceof opinion between earnest people obviated. "

Mrs. Taylor, as Selma was pleased to note, flushed at her concludingoffer, and she answered, drily, "I fear that we are too far apart in ourideas to talk of co-operation. If our bill is defeated this year, weshall have to persevere and trust to the gradual enlightenment of publicsentiment. Good afternoon. "

Selma left the State-house in an elated frame of mind. She felt that shehad taken a righteous and patriotic stand, and it pleased her to thinkthat she was taking an active part in defending the institutions of thecountry. She chatted eagerly as she walked through the corridors withMr. Lyons, who, portly and imposing, acted as escort to her and Mrs. Earle, and invited them to luncheon at a hotel restaurant. Excitementhad given her more color than usual, to which her mourning acted as afoil, and she looked her best. Lyons was proud of being in the companyof such a presentable and spirited appearing woman, and made a point ofstopping two or three members of the legislature and introducing them toher. When they reached the restaurant he established them at a tablewhere they could see everybody and be seen, and he ordered scollopedoysters, chicken-salad, ice-cream, coffee, and some bottles ofsarsaparilla. Both women were in high spirits, and Selma was agreeablyconscious that people were observing them. Before the repast was over amessenger brought a note to Mr. Lyons, which announced that thelegislative committee had given the petitioners leave to withdraw theirbill, which, in Selma's eyes, justified the management of the affair, and set the seal of complete success on an already absorbing anddelightful occasion. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Her mourning and the slow convalescence of Mr. Parsons deprived Selma ofconvincing evidence in regard to her social reception in Benham, forthose socially prominent were thus barred from inviting her to theirhouses, and her own activities were correspondingly fettered. Indeed, her circumstances supplied her with an obvious salve for her properdignity had she been disposed to let suspicion lie fallow. As it was anumber of people had left cards and sent invitations notwithstandingthey could not be accepted, and she might readily have believed, had shechosen--and as she professed openly to Mr. Parsons--that everyone hadbeen uncommonly civil and appreciative. 

She found herself, however, in spite of her declared devotion to herserious duties, noting that the recognition accorded to Mr. Parsons andherself was not precisely of the character she craved. Thevisiting-cards and invitations were from people residing on the RiverDrive and in that neighborhood, indeed--but from people like the Flaggs, for instance, who, having acquired large wealth and erected lordlydwellings, were eager to dispense good-natured, lavish hospitalitywithout social experience. Her sensitive ordeal in New York hadquickened her social perceptions, so that whereas at the time of herdeparture from Benham as Mrs. Littleton she regarded her presentneighborhood as an integral class, she was now prompt to separate thesheep from the goats, and to remark that only the goats seemed consciousof her existence. With the exception of Mrs. Taylor, who had called whenshe was out, not one of a certain set, the outward manifestations ofwhose stately being were constantly passing her windows, appeared totake the slightest interest in her. Strictly speaking, Mrs. Taylor wasof this set, yet apart from it. Hers was the exclusive intellectual andæsthetic set, this the exclusive fashionable set--both alike execrableand foreign to the traditions of Benham. As Selma had discovered the oneand declared war against it, so she promised herself to confound theother when the period of her mourning was over, and she was free toappear again in society. Once more she congratulated herself that shehad come in time to nip in the bud this other off-shoot of aristocratictendencies. As yet either set was small in number, and she foresaw thatit would be an easy task to unite in a solid phalanx ofoffensive-defensive influence the friendly souls whom these peopletreated as outsiders, and purge the society atmosphere of the miasma ofexclusiveness. In connection with the means to this end, when the winterslipped away and left her feeling that she had been ignored, and thatshe was eager to assume a commanding position, she began to take morethan passing thought of the attentions of Mr. Lyons. That he wasinterested by her there could be no doubt, for he plainly went out ofhis way to seek her society, calling at the house from time to time, andexercising a useful, nattering superintendence over her lecture coursein the other cities of the State, in each of which he appeared to havefriends on the newspaper press who put agreeable notices in printconcerning her performance. She had returned to Benham believing thather married life was over; that her heart was in the grave with Wilbur, and that she would never again part with her independence. The noticewhich Mr. Lyons had taken of her from the outset had gratified her, butthough she contrasted his physical energy with Wilbur's lack of vigor, it had not occurred to her to consider him in the light of a possiblehusband. Now that a year had passed since Wilbur's death, she feltconscious once more, as had happened after her divorce, of the need of acloser and more individual sympathy than any at her command. Herrelations with Mr. Parsons, to be sure, approximated those of father anddaughter, but his perceptions were much less acute than before hisseizure; he talked little and ceased to take a vital interest in currentaffairs. She felt the lack of companionship and, also, of personaldevotion, such personal devotion as was afforded by the strenuous, ardent allegiance of a man. On the other hand she was firmly resolvednever to allow the current of her own life to be turned away again bythe subordination of her purposes to those of any other person, and shehad believed that this resolution would keep her indifferent tomarriage, in spite of any sensations of loneliness or craving formasculine idolatry. But as a widow of a year's standing she was nowsuddenly interested by the thought that this solid, ambitious, smooth-talking man might possibly satisfy her natural preference for amate without violating her individuality. She began to ask herself if hewere not truly congenial in a sense which no man had ever been to herbefore; also, to ask if their aspirations and aims were not so nearlyidentical that he would be certain as her husband to be proud ofeverything she did and said, and to allow her to work hand in hand withhim for the furtherance of their common purpose. She did not put thesequestions to herself until his conduct suggested that he was seeking hersociety as a suitor; but having put them, she was pleased to find herheart throb with the hope of a stimulating and dear discovery. 

Certain causes contributed to convince her that this hope rested on asure foundation--causes associated with her present life and point ofview. She felt confident first of all of the godliness of Mr. Lyons asindicated not only by his sober, successful life, and his enthusiastic, benignant patriotism, but by his active, reverent interest in theaffairs of his church--the Methodist Church--to which Mr. Parsonsbelonged, and which Selma had begun to attend since her return toBenham. It had been her mother's faith, and she had felt a certainfilial glow in approaching it, which had been fanned into pious flame bythe effect of the ministration. The fervent hymns and the opportunitiesfor bearing testimony at some of the services appealed to her needs andgave her a sense of oneness with eternal truth, which had hitherto beenlacking from her religious experience. In judging Wilbur she wasdisposed to ascribe the defects of his character largely to the coldnessand analyzing sobriety of his creed. She had accompanied him to churchlistlessly, and had been bored by the unemotional appeals to conscienceand quiet subjective designations of duty. She preferred to thrill withthe intensity of words which now roundly rated sin, now passionatelycalled to mind the ransom of the Saviour, and ever kept prominent thestirring mission of evangelizing ignorant foreign people. It appearedprobable to Selma that, as the wife of one of the leadingchurch-members, who was the chairman of the local committee charged withspreading the gospel abroad, her capacity for doing good would bestrengthened, and the spiritual availability of them both be enhanced. 

Then, too, Mr. Lyons's political prospects were flattering. The thoughtthat a marriage with him would put her in a position to control thesocial tendencies of Benham was alluring. As the wife of Hon. James O. Lyons, Member of Congress, she believed that she would be able to lookdown on and confound those who had given her the cold shoulder. Whatwould Flossy say when she heard it? What would Pauline? This was a formof distinction which would put her beyond the reach of conspiracy andexclusiveness; for, as the wife of a representative, selected by thepeople to guard their interests and make their laws, would not hersocial position be unassailable? And apart from these considerations, apolitical future seemed to her peculiarly attractive. Was not this thereal opportunity for which she had been waiting? Would she be justifiedin giving it up? In what better way could her talents be spent than asthe helpmate and intellectual companion of a public man--a statesmandevoted to the protection and development of American ideas? Her ownindividuality need not, would not be repressed. She had seen enough ofMr. Lyons to feel sure that their views on the great questions of lifewere thoroughly in harmony. They held the same religious opinions. Whocould foretell the limit of their joint progress? He was still a youngman--strong, dignified, and patriotic--endowed with qualities whichfitted him for public service. It might well be that a brilliant futurewas before him--before them, if she were his wife. If he were to becomeprominent in the councils of the nation--Speaker of theHouse--Governor--even President, within the bounds of possibility, whata splendid congenial scope his honors would afford her own versatility!As day by day she dwelt on these points of recommendation, Selma becamemore and more disposed to smile on the aspirations of Mr. Lyons inregard to herself, and to feel that her life would develop to the bestadvantage by a union with him. Until the words asking her to be his wifewere definitely spoken she could not be positive of his intentions, buthis conduct left little room for doubt, and moreover, was marked by adeferential soberness of purpose which indicated to her that his viewsregarding marriage were on a higher plane than those of any man she hadknown. He referred frequently to the home as the foundation on whichAmerican civilization rested, and from which its inspiration was largelyderived, and spoke feelingly of the value to a public man of astimulating and dignifying fireside. It became his habit to join herafter morning service and to accompany her home, carrying herhymn-books, and he sent her from time to time, through the post, quotations which had especially struck his fancy from the speeches hewas collecting for his "Watchwords of Patriotism. "

Another six months passed, and at its close Lyons received the expectednomination for Congress. The election promised to be close and exciting. Both parties were confident of victory, and were preparing vigorously tokeep their adherents at fever pitch by rallies and torch-lightprocessions. Although the result of the caucus was not doubtful, it wasunderstood between Lyons and Selma that he would call at the house thatevening to let her know that he had been successful. She was waiting toreceive him in the library. Mr. Parsons had gone to bed. His conditionwas not promising. He had recently suffered another slight attack ofparalysis, which seemed to indicate that he was liable at any time to afatal seizure. 

Lyons entered smilingly. "So far so good, " he exclaimed. 

"Then you have won?"

"Oh, yes. As I told you, it was a foregone conclusion. Now the fightbegins. "

Selma, who had provided a slight refection, handed him a cup of tea. "Ifeel sure that you will be chosen, " she said. "See if I am not right. When is the election?"

"In six weeks. Six weeks from to-morrow. "

"Then you will go to Washington to live?"

"Not until the fourth of March. "

"I envy you. If I were a man I should prefer success in politics toanything else. "

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Will you help me to achievesuccess? Will you go with me to Washington as my wife?"

His courtship had been formal and elaborate, but his declaration wassignally simple and to the point. Selma noticed that the cup in his handtrembled. While she kept her eyes lowered, as women are supposed to doat such moments, she was wondering whether she loved him as much as shehad loved Wilbur? Not so ardently, but more worthily, she concluded, forhe seemed to her to fulfil her maturer ideal of strong and effectivemanhood, and to satisfy alike her self-respect and her physical fancy. Aman of his type would not split hairs, but proceed straight toward thegoal of his ambition without fainting or wavering. Why should she notsatisfy her renewed craving to be yoked to a kindred spirit andcompanion who appreciated her true worth?

"I cannot believe, " he was saying, "that my words are a surprise to you. 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 notdare to cherish too fondly the hope that the love inspired in me couldbe reciprocated, and that you would consent to unite your life to mineand trust your happiness to my keeping. If I may say so, we are no boyand girl. We understand the solemn significance of marriage; what itimports and what it demands. Of late I have ventured to dream that thesympathy in ideas and identity of purpose which exist between us mightbe the trustworthy sign of a spiritual bond which we could not afford toignore. I feel that without you the joy and power of my life will beincomplete. With you at my side I shall aspire to great things. You areto 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 havehad two husbands, and I did not believe that I could ever think ofmarriage again. I don't wish you to suppose that my last marriage wasnot happy. Mr. Littleton was an earnest, talented man, and devoted tome. Yet I cannot deny that in spite of mutual love our married life wasnot a success--a success as a contribution to accomplishment. Thatnearly broke my heart, and he--he died from lack of the physical andmental vigor which would have made so much difference. I am telling youthis because I wish you to realize that if I should consent to complywith your wishes, it would be because I was convinced that trueaccomplishment--the highest accomplishment--would result from the unionof our lives as the result of our riper experience. If I did notbelieve, Mr. Lyons, that man and woman as we are--no longer boy andgirl--a more perfect scheme of happiness, a grander conception of themeaning of life than either of us had entertained was before us, I wouldnot consider your offer for one moment. "

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

Despite his facility as an orator, Lyons left this sentence incompletein face of the ticklish difficulty of explaining that he had refrainedfrom suggesting such a hope to a widow who had lost her husband only twoyears before. Yet he hastened to bridge over this ellipsis by saying, "Without such a faith a union between us must fall short of its sweetestand 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 saidclasping her hands. "I believe devotedly in the mission and power oflove. But I believe that our conception of love changes as we grow. Iwelcomed love formerly as an intoxicating, delirious potion, and as suchit 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 myassociation with you has brought peace into my life--peace and religiousfaith--essentials of happiness of which I have not known the blessingssince I was a child. You have dedicated yourself to a lofty work; youhave chosen the noble career of a statesman--a statesman zealous topromote principles in which we both believe. And you ask me to sharewith you the labors and the privileges which will result from thisdedication. If I accept your offer, it must be because I know that Ilove you--love you in a sense I have not loved before--may the deadpardon me! If I accept you it will be because I wish to perpetuate thatfaith and peace, and because I believe that our joint lives will realizeworthy accomplishment. " Selma looked into space 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 cannottell 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 putinto this speech all his solemnity and all his emotional beneficence oftemperament. He was genuinely moved. His first marriage had been a lovematch. His wife--a mere girl--had died within a year; so soon that thememory of her was a tender but hazy sentiment rather than a formulatedimpression of character. By virtue of this memory he had approachedmarriage again as one seeking a companion for his fireside, and acomely, sensible woman to preside over his establishment and promote hissocial status, rather than one expecting to be possessed by or toinspire a dominant passion. Yet he, too, regarded himself distinctly asan idealist, and he had lent a greedy ear to Selma's suggestion thatmature mutual sympathy and comradeship in establishing convictions andreligious aims were the source of a nobler type of love than thatassociated with early matrimony. It increased his admiration for her, and gave to his courtship, the touch of idealism which--partly owing tohis 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 upto the spell of this vision of blessedness while he eagerly watchedSelma's face and waited for her answer. To combine moral purpose andlove in a pervasive alliance appealed to him magnetically as a religiousman. 

Selma, as she faced Lyons, was conscious necessarily of the contrastbetween him and her late husband. But she was attuned to regard hiscoarser physical fibre as masculine vigor and a protest againstaristocratic delicacy, and to derive comfort and exaltation from it. 

"Mr. Lyons, " she said, "I will tell you frankly that the circumstancesof married life have hitherto hampered the expression of that which isin me, and confined the scope of my individuality within narrow anduncongenial limits. I am not complaining; I have no intention to rake upthe past; but it is proper you should know that I believe myself capableof larger undertakings than have yet been afforded me, and worthy ofampler recognition than I have yet received. If I accept you as ahusband, it will be because I feel confident that you will give my lifethe opportunity to expand, and that you sympathize with my desire toexpress myself adequately and to labor hand in hand, side by side, withyou 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, andseizing 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 somuch to me. It means that if I am mistaken in you, my whole life will beruined, 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. Icannot leave him immediately, if at all, for he is very dependent onme. "

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

The reverential gravity of his tone was in excess of the needs of theoccasion, and Selma understood that he intended to imply that Mr. Parsons would not long need her care. The same thought was in her ownmind, and it had occurred to her in the course of her previouscogitations in regard to Lyons, that in the event of his death it wouldsuit 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 ofcoyness 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 evadedhis onset and said with her dramatic intonation, "The knights of old wontheir lady-loves by brilliant deeds. If you are elected a member ofCongress, you may come to claim me. "

Reflection served only to convince Selma of the wisdom of her decisionto try matrimony once more. She argued, that though a third marriagemight theoretically seem repugnant if stated as a bald fact, the actualcircumstances in her case not merely exonerated her from a lack ofdelicacy, but afforded an exhibition of progress--a gradual evolution incharacter. She felt light-hearted and triumphant at the thought of herimpending new importance as the wife of a public man, and she interestedherself exuberantly in the progress of the political campaign. She waspleased to think that her stipulation had given her lover a new spur tohis ambition, and she was prepared to believe that his victory would bedue to the exhaustive efforts to win which the cruel possibility oflosing her obliged him to make. 

This was a campaign era of torch-light processions. The rival factionsexpressed their confidence and enthusiasm by parading at night in aseries of battalions armed with torches--some resplendently flaring, some glittering gayly through colored glass--and bearing transparenciesinscribed with trenchant sentiments. The houses of their adherents alongthe 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 allthis was entrancing. She revelled in it as an introduction to the moreconspicuous life which she was about to lead. She showed herself azealous and enthusiastic partisan, shrouding the house in the darknessof Erebus on the occasion when the rival procession passed the door, andimparting to every window the effect of a blaze of light on thefollowing evening--the night before election--when the Democratic partymade its final appeal to the voters. Standing on a balcony in eveningdress, in company with Mrs. Earle and Miss Luella Bailey, whom she hadinvited to view the procession from the River Drive, Selma looked downon the parade in an ecstatic mood. The torches, the music, the fireworksand the enthusiasm set her pulses astir and brought her heart into hermouth in melting appreciation of the sanctity of her party cause and herown enviable destiny as the wife of an American Congressman. She held inone hand a flag which she waved from time to time at the conspicuousfeatures of the procession, and she stationed herself so that the Bengallights and other fireworks set off by Mr. Parsons's hired man shouldthrow her figure into conspicuous relief. The culminating interest ofthe, occasion for her was reached when the James O. Lyons Cadets, thespecial body of youthful torch-bearers devoted to advertising the meritsof her lover, for whose uniforms and accoutrements he had paid, came insight. 

They proved to be the most flourishing looking organization in line. They were preceded by a large, nattily attired drum corps; their rankswere full, their torches lustrous, and they bore a number oftransparencies setting forth the predominant qualifications of thecandidate for Congress from the second district, the largest of whichpresented his portrait superscribed with the sentiment, "A vote forJames O. Lyons is a vote in support of the liberties of the plainpeople. " On the opposite end of the canvas was the picture of the kingof beasts, with open jaws and bristling mane, with the motto, "OurLyons's might will keep our institutions sacred. " In the midst of thisglittering escort the candidate himself rode in an open barouche on hisway to the hall where he was to deliver a final speech. He was bowing toright and left, and constant cheers marked his progress along theavenue. Selma leaned forward from the balcony to obtain the earliestsight of her hero. The rolling applause was a new, intoxicating music inher ears, and filled her soul with transport. She clapped her handsvehemently; seized a roman-candle, and amid a blaze of fiery sparksexploded its colored stars in the direction of the approaching carriage. Then with the flag slanted across her bosom, she stood waiting for hisrecognition. It was made solemnly, but with the unequivocaldemonstration of a cavalier or knight of old, for Lyons stood up, anddoffing his hat toward her, made a conspicuous salute. A salvo ofapplause suggested to Selma that the multitude had understood that hewas according to her the homage due a lady-love, and that their cheerswere partly meant for her. She put her hand to her bosom with thegesture of a queen of melodrama, and culling one from a bunch of rosesLyons had sent her that afternoon threw it from the balcony at thecarriage. The flower fell almost into the lap of her lover, who clutchedit, pressed it to his lips, and doffed his hat again. The episode hadbeen visible to many, and a hoarse murmur of interested approval crownedthe performance. The glance of the crowds on the sidewalk was turnedupward, 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 afresh outburst of colored fires. 

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

CHAPTER V. 

Lyons was chosen to Congress by a liberal margin. The Congressionaldelegation from his State was almost evenly divided between the twoparties as the result of the election, and the majorities in every casewere small. Consequently the more complete victory of Lyons was afeather in his cap, and materially enhanced his political standing. 

The sudden death of Mr. Parsons within a week of the election savedSelma's conscience from the strain of arranging a harmonious andequitable separation from him. She had felt that the enlargement of hersphere of life and the opportunity to serve her country which thismarriage offered were paramount to any other considerations, but she wasduly conscious that Mr. Parsons would miss her sorely, and she wasconsidering the feasibility of substituting Miss Bailey as his companionin her place, when fate supplied a different solution. Selma had pledgedher friends to secrecy, so that Mr. Parsons need know nothing until theplans for his happiness had been perfected, and he died in ignorance ofthe interesting matrimonial alliance which had been fostered under hisroof. By the terms of his will Selma was bequeathed the twenty thousanddollars he had promised her. She and Mr. Lyons, with a third person, tobe selected by them, were appointed trustees of the Free Hospital withwhich he had endowed Benham, and Mr. Lyons was nominated as the soleexecutor under the will. 

Selma's conception that her third betrothal was coincident withspiritual development, and that she had fought her way through hamperingcircumstances to a higher plane of experience, had taken firm hold ofher imagination. She presently confessed to Lyons that she had nothitherto appreciated the full meaning of the dogma that marriage was asacrament. She evinced a disposition to show herself with him at churchgatherings, and to cultivate the acquaintance of his pastor. She feltthat she had finally secured the opportunity to live the sober, simplelife appropriate to those who believed in maintaining Americanprinciples, and in eschewing luxurious and effete foreign innovations;the sort of life she had always meant to live, and from which she hadbeen debarred. She had now not only opportunity, but a responsibility. As the bride of a Congressman, it behooved her both to pursue virtue forits own sake and for the sake of example. It was incumbent on her topreserve and promote democratic conditions in signal opposition toso-called fashionable society, and at the same time to assert her ownproper dignity and the dignity of her constituents by a suitable outwardshow. 

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

"Of course you ought to understand about this matter better than I, " shesaid; "but I have the feeling, James, that your constituents will bedisappointed if we don't show ourselves appreciative of the dignity ofyour position. We both agree that we should make Benham our home, andthat it will be preferable if I visit Washington a month or two at atime 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 ifyou, as their representative, make that home all which a beautiful homeshould be. They will be proud of it, and if they are, you needn't mindwhat a few fault-finders say. I have been thinking it over, and it seemsto me that we shall make a mistake to let this house go. It just suitsus. I feel sure that in their hearts the American people like to havetheir public men live comfortably. This house is small compared to manyin New York, and I flatter myself that we shall be able to satisfyeveryone that we are rootedly opposed to unseemly extravagance ofliving. "

Lyons yielded readily to this argument. He had been accustomed to simplesurroundings, but travel and the growth of Benham itself haddemonstrated to him that the ways of the nation in respect to materialpossessions and comforts had undergone a marked change since his youth. He had been brought in contact with this new development in his capacityof adviser to the magnates of Benham, and he had fallen under the spellof improved creature comforts. Still, though he cast sheep's eyes atthese flesh pots, he had felt chary, both as a worker for righteousnessand an ardent champion of popular principles, of countenancing themopenly. Yet his original impulse toward marriage had been a desire tosecure an establishment, and now that this result was at hand he foundhimself ambitious to put his household on a braver footing, providedthis would do injury neither to his moral scruples nor to his politicalsincerity. The problem was but another phase of that presented to him byhis evolution from a jury lawyer, whose hand and voice were againstcorporations, to the status of a richly paid chamber adviser torailroads and banking houses. He was exactly in the frame of mind tograsp at the euphemism offered by Selma. He was not one to be convincedwithout a reason, but his mind eagerly welcomed a suggestion whichjustified on a moral ground the proceeding to which they were bothinclined. The idea that the people would prefer to see him as theirrepresentative living in a style consistent with the changes in mannersand customs introduced by national prosperity, affording thereby anexample of correct and elevating stewardship of reasonable wealth, byway of contrast to vapid society doings, came to him as an illuminationwhich dissipated his doubts. 

The wedding took place about three months after the death of Mr. Parsons. In her renovated outlook regarding matrimony, Selma includedformal preparations for and some pomp of circumstances at the ceremony. It suited her pious mood that she was not required again to be marriedoff-hand, and that she could plight her troth in a decorous fashion, suitably attired and amid conventional surroundings. Her dress was asubject of considerable contemplation. She guided her lover's generosityuntil it centred on a diamond spray for her hair and two rings set withhandsome precious stones. She did not discourage Miss Luella Bailey fromheralding the approaching nuptials in the press. She became Mrs. Lyonsin a conspicuous and solemn fashion before the gaze of everybody inBenham whom there was any excuse for asking to the church. After acollation at the Parsons house, the happy pair started on theirhoneymoon in a special car put at their service by one of the railroadsfor which the bridegroom was counsel. This feature delighted Selma. Indeed, everything, from the complimentary embrace of her husband'spastor to the details of her dress and wedding presents, described withelaborate good will in the evening newspapers, appeared to hergratifying and appropriate. 

They were absent six weeks, during which the Parsons house was to beredecorated and embellished within and without according to instructionsgiven by Selma before her departure. Their trip extended to Californiaby way of the Yosemite. Selma had never seen the wonders of the farwestern scenery, and this appropriate background for their sentimentalso afforded Lyons the opportunity to inspect certain railroad lines inwhich he was financially interested. The atmosphere of the gorgeoussnow-clad peaks and impressive chasms served to heighten still furtherthe intensity of Selma's frame of mind. She managed adroitly on severaloccasions to let people know who they were, and it pleased her toobserve the conductor indicating to passengers in the common cars thatthey were Congressman Lyons and his wife on their honeymoon. She waslooking forward to Washington, and as she stood in the presence of theinspiring beauties of nature she was prone to draw herself up inrehearsal of the dignity which she expected to wear. What were thesemountains and canyons but physical counterparts of the human soul? Whatbut correlative representatives of grand ideas, of noble lives devotedto the cause of human liberty? She felt that she was very happy, and shebore testimony to this by walking arm in arm with her husband, leaningagainst his firm, stalwart shoulder. It seemed to her desirable that thepublic should know that they were a happy couple and defenders of thepurity of the home. On their way back the train was delayed onWashington's birthday for several hours by a wash-out, and presently adeputation made up of passengers and townspeople waited on Lyons andinvited him to deliver an open-air address. He and Selma, when thecommittee arrived, were just about to explore the neighborhood, andLyons, though ordinarily he would have been glad of such an opportunity, looked at his wife with an expression which suggested that he wouldprefer a walk with her. The eyes of the committee followed his, appreciating that he had thrown the responsibility of a decision on hisbride. Selma was equal to the occasion. "Of course he will address you, "she exclaimed. "What more suitable place could there be for offeringhomage to the father of our country than this majestic prairie?" Sheadded, proudly, "And I am glad you should have the opportunity to hearmy husband speak. "

Some letters requiring attention were forwarded to Lyons at one of thecities where they stopped. As they lay on his dressing-table Selmacaught sight of the return address, Williams & Van Horne, printed on theuppermost envelope. The reminder aroused a host of associations. Flossyhad not been much in her thoughts lately, yet she had not failed toplume herself occasionally with the reflection that she could afford nowto snap her fingers at her. She had wondered more than once what Flossywould think when she heard that she was the wife of a Representative. 

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

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

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

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

"Williams is a capable, driving sort of fellow. Bold, but on the wholesagacious, I think, " answered Lyons, with demure urbanity. It was rathera shock to him that his wife should learn that he had dealings in thestock market. He feared lest it might seem to her inconsistent with hisother propensities--his religious convictions and his abhorrence ofcorporate rapacity. He preferred to keep such transactions private forfear they should be misunderstood. At heart he did not altogetherapprove of them himself. They were a part of his evolution, and haddeveloped by degrees until they had become now so interwoven with hiswhole financial outlook that he could not escape from them at the momentif he would. Indeed some of them were giving him anxiety. He hadsupposed that the letter in question contained a request for aremittance to cover depreciation in his account. Instead he had readwith some annoyance a confidential request from Williams that he wouldwork for a certain bill which, in his capacity as a foe of monopoly, hehad hoped to be able to oppose. It offended his conscience to think thathe might be obliged secretly to befriend a measure against which hisvote must be cast. As has been intimated, he would have preferred thathis business affairs should remain concealed from his wife. Yet herremarks were unexpectedly and agreeably reassuring. They served tofurnish a fresh indication on her part of intelligent sympathy with theperplexities which beset the path of an ambitious public man. Theysuggested a subtle appreciation of the reasonableness of his behavior, notwithstanding its apparent failure to tally with his outwardprofessions. 

Selma's reply interrupted this rhapsody. 

"I ought to tell you, I suppose, that I quarrelled with Mrs. Williamsbefore I left New York. Or, rather, she quarrelled with me. She insultedme 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 friendshipare always unfortunate. " Lyons looked grieved, and fingered his beardmeditatively. 

"I appreciate, " said Selma, frankly, "that our falling out will be aninconvenience in case we should meet in Washington or elsewhere, sinceyou 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 youabout it. I think she was jealous of me and fancied I was trying to cuther 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 frivoloushabits of her little set. But I have not forgotten, James, yoursuggestion that people in public life can accomplish more if they avoidshowing resentment and strive for harmony. I shall be ready to forgetthe past if Mrs. Williams will, for my position as your wife puts mebeyond the reach of her criticism. She's a lively little thing in herway, and her husband seems to understand about investments and how toget ahead. "

They went direct to Washington without stopping at Benham. It wasunderstood that the new session of Congress was to be very short, andthey were glad of an opportunity to present themselves in an officialcapacity at the capital as a conclusion to their honeymoon, beforesettling down at home. Selma found a letter from Miss Bailey, containingthe news that Pauline Littleton had accepted the presidency of WetmoreCollege, the buildings of which were now practically completed. Selmagasped as she read this. She had long ago decided that hersister-in-law's studies were unpractical, and that Pauline was doomed toteach small classes all her days, a task for which she was doubtlesswell fitted. She resented the selection, for, in her opinion, Paulinelacked the imaginative talent of Wilbur, and yet shared his subjective, unenthusiastic ways. More than once it had occurred to her that thepresidency of Wetmore was the place of all others for which she herselfwas fitted. Indeed, until Lyons had offered himself she had cherished inher inner consciousness the hope that the course of events mightdemonstrate that she was the proper person to direct the energies ofthis new medium for the higher education of women. It irritated her tothink that an institution founded by Benham philanthropy, and whichwould be a vital influence in the development of Benham womanhood, should be under the control of one who was hostile to American theoriesand methods. Selma felt so strongly on the subject that she thought ofairing her objections in a letter to Mr. Flagg, the donor, but sheconcluded to suspend her strictures until her return to Benham. Shesent, however, to Miss Bailey, who was now regularly attached to one ofthe Benham newspapers, notes for an article which should deplore thechoice by the trustees of one who was unfamiliar and presumably out ofsympathy with Benham thought and impulse. 

Selma's emotions on her arrival in Washington were very different fromthose 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 assumed that the capital was the parade groundof American ideas and principles, she felt not merely no surprise at theaugust appearance of the wide avenues, but she was eagerly on thelookout, as they drove from the station to the hotel, for signs ofsocial development. The aphorism which she had supplied to her husband, that the American people prefer to have their representatives livecomfortably, dwelt in her thoughts and was a solace to her. Despite herNew York experience, she had the impression that the doors of everyhouse in Washington would fly open at her approach as the wife of aCongressman. She did not formulate her anticipations as to herreception, but she entertained a general expectation that their presencewould be acknowledged as public officials in a notable way. She dressedherself on the morning after their arrival at the hotel with someshowiness, so as to be prepared for flattering emergencies. She had saidlittle to her husband on the subject, for she had already discoveredthat, though he was ambitious that they should appear well, he wasdisposed to leave the management of social concerns to her. Hisinformation had been limited to bidding her come prepared for thereception to be given at the White House at the reassembling ofCongress. Selma had brought her wedding-dress for this, and was lookingforward to it as a gala occasion. 

The hotel was very crowded, and Selma became aware that many of theguests were the wives and daughters of other Congressmen, who seemed tobe in the same predicament as herself--that is, without anyone to speakto and waiting in their best clothes for something to happen. Lyons knewa few of them, and was making acquaintances in the corridors, with someof whom he exchanged an introduction of wives. As she successively metthese other women, Selma perceived that no one of them was betterdressed than herself, and she reflected with pleasure that they woulddoubtless be available allies in her crusade against frivolity andexclusiveness. 

Presently she set out with her husband to survey the sights of the city. Naturally their first visit was to the Capitol, in the presence of whichSelma clutched his arm in the pride of her patriotism and of herpleasure that he was to be one of the makers of history within itssplendid precincts. The sight of the stately houses of Congress, superbly dominated by their imposing dome, made them both walk proudly, lost, save for occasional vivid phrases of admiration, in thecontemplation of their own possible future. What greater earthly prizefor man than political distinction among a people capable of monumentslike this? What grander arena for a woman eager to demonstrate truth andpromote righteousness? There was, of course, too much to see for any onevisit. They went up to the gallery of the House of Representatives andlooked down on the theatre of Lyons's impending activities. He was totake his seat on the day after the morrow as one of the minority party, but a strong, vigorous minority. Selma pictured him standing in theaisle and uttering ringing words of denunciation against corporatemonopolies and the money power. 

"I shall come up here and listen to you often. I shall be able to tellif you speak loud enough--so that the public can hear you, " she said, glancing at the line of galleries which she saw in her mind's eyecrowded with spectators. "You must make a long speech very soon. "

"That is very unlikely indeed. They tell me a new member rarely gets achance to be heard, " answered Lyons. 

"But they will hear you. You have something to say. "

Lyons squeezed her hand. Her words nourished the same hope in his ownbreast. "I shall take advantage of every opportunity to obtainrecognition, and to give utterance to my opinions. "

"Oh yes, I shall expect you to speak. I am counting on that. "

On their way down they scanned with interest the statues and portraitsof distinguished statesmen and heroes, and the representations of famousepisodes in American history with which the walls of the landings andthe rotunda are lined. 

"Some day you will be here, " said Selma. "I wonder who will paint you ormake your bust. I have often thought, " she added, wistfully, "that, if Ihad given my mind to it, I could have modelled well in clay. Some dayI'll try. It would be interesting, wouldn't it, to have you here inmarble with the inscription underneath, 'Bust of the Honorable James O. Lyons, sculptured by his wife?'"

Lyons laughed, but he was pleased. "You are making rapid strides, mydear. I am sure of one thing--if my bust or portrait ever is here, Ishall owe my success largely to your devotion and good sense. I feltcertain of it before, but our honeymoon has proved to me that we weremeant for one another. "

"Yes, I think we were. And I like to hear you say I have good sense. That is what I pride myself on as a wife. "

On their return to the hotel Selma was annoyed to find that no one but amember of her husband's Congressional delegation had called. She hadhoped to find that their presence in Washington was known andappreciated. It seemed to her, moreover, that they were not treated atthe hotel with the deference she had supposed would be accorded to them. To be sure, equality was of the essence of American doctrine;nevertheless she had anticipated that the official representatives ofthe people would be made much of, and distinguished from the rest of theworld, if not by direct attention, by being pointed out and looked atadmiringly. Still, as Lyons showed no signs of disappointment, sheforbore to express her own perplexity, which was temporarily relieved byan invitation from him to drive. The atmosphere was mild enough for anopen carriage, and Selma's appetite for processional effect derived somecrumbs of comfort from the process of showing herself in a barouche bythe side of her husband. They proceeded in an opposite direction fromthe Capitol, and after surveying the outside of the White House, drovealong the avenues and circles occupied by private residences. Selmanoticed that these houses, though attractive, were less magnificent andconspicuous than many of those in New York--more like her own in Benham;and she pictured as their occupants the families of the public men ofthe country--a society of their wives and daughters living worthily, energetically, and with becoming stateliness, yet at the same timerebuking by their example frivolity and rampant luxury. She observedwith satisfaction the passage of a number of private carriages, and thattheir occupants were stylishly clad. She reflected that, as, the wife ofa Congressman, her place was among them, and she was glad that theyrecognized the claims of social development so far as to dress well andlive in comfort. Before starting she had herself fastened a bunch of redroses at her waist as a contribution to her picturesqueness as a publicwoman. 

While she was thus absorbed in speculation, not altogether free fromworrying suspicions, in spite of her mental vision as to the occupantsof these private residences, she uttered an ejaculation of surprise as ajaunty victoria passed by them, and she turned her head in an eagerattempt to ascertain if her surprise and annoyance were well-founded. The other vehicle was moving rapidly, but a similar curiosity impelledone of its occupants to look hack also, and the eyes of the two womenmet. 

"It's she; I thought it was. "

"Who, my dear?" said Lyons. 

"Flossy Williams--Mrs. Gregory Williams. I wonder, " she added, in asevere tone, "what she is doing here, and how she happens to beassociating with these people. That was a private carriage. "

"Williams has a number of friends in Washington, I imagine. I thought itlikely that he would be here. That was another proof of your good sense, Selma--deciding to let bygones be bygones and to ignore yourdisagreement with his wife. "

"Yes, I know. I shall treat her civilly. But my heart will be broken, James, if I find that Washington is like New York. "

"In what respect?"

"If I find that the people in these houses lead exclusive, un-American, godless lives. It would tempt me almost to despair of our country, " sheexclaimed, with tragic emphasis. 

"I don't understand about social matters, Selma. I must leave those toyou. But, " he added, showing that he shrewdly realized the cause of heranguish better than she did herself, "as soon as we get betteracquainted, I'm sure you will find that we shall get ahead, and that youwill be able to hold your own with anybody, however exclusive. "

Selma colored at the unflattering simplicity of his deduction. "I don'tdesire to hold my own with people of that sort. I despise them. "

"I know. Hold your own, I mean, among people of the right sort by forceof sound ideas and principles. The men and women of to-day, " hecontinued, with melodious asseveration, "are the grand-children of thosewho built the splendid halls we visited this morning as a monument toour nation's love of truth and righteousness. A few frivolous, worldlyminded spirits are not the people of the United States to whom we lookfor our encouragement and support. "

"Assuredly, " answered Selma, with eagerness. "It is difficult, though, not to get discouraged at times by the behavior of those who ought toaid instead of hinder our progress as a nation. "

For a moment she was silent in wrapt meditation, then she asked:

"Didn't you expect that more notice would be taken of our arrival?"

"In what way?"

"In some way befitting a member of Congress. "

Lyons laughed. "My dear Selma, I am one new Congressman among severalhundred. What did you expect? That the President and his wife would comeand take us to drive?"

"Of course not. " She paused a moment, then she said: "I suppose that, asyou are not on the side of the administration, we cannot expect muchnotice to be taken of us until you speak in the House. I will try not tobe too ambitious for you, James; but it would be easier to be patient, "she concluded, with her far-away look, "if I were not beginning to fearthat this city also may be contaminated just as New York is. "

CHAPTER VI. 

The incidents of the next two days previous to her attendance at theevening reception at the White House restored Selma's equanimity. Shehad the satisfaction of being present at the opening ceremonies of theHouse of Representatives, and of beholding her husband take the oath ofoffice. She was proud of Lyons as she looked down on him from thegallery standing in the aisle by his allotted seat. He was holding animprovised reception, for a number of his colleagues showed themselvesdesirous to make his acquaintance. She noticed that he appeared alreadyon familiar terms with some of his fellow-members; that he drew men orwas drawn aside for whispered confidences; that he joked knowingly withothers; and that always as he chatted his large, round, smooth face, relieved by its chin beard, wore an aspect of bland dignity and shrewdreserve wisdom. It pleased her to be assisting at the dedication of afresh page of national history--a page yet unwritten, but on which shehoped that her own name would be inscribed sooner or later by those whoshould seek to trace the complete causes of her husband's usefulness andgenius. 

Another source of satisfaction was the visit paid them the day before atthe hotel by one of the United States Senators from their own State--Mr. Calkins. The two political parties in their own State were so evenlydivided that one of the Senators in office happened to be a Republicanand his colleague a Democrat. Mr. Calkins belonged to her husband'sparty, yet he suggested that they might enjoy a private audience withthe President, with whom, notwithstanding political differences ofopinion, Mr. Calkins was on friendly terms. This was the sort of thingwhich Selma aspired to, and the experience did much to lighten herheart. She enjoyed the distinction of seeing guarded doors open at theirapproach, and of finding herself shaking hands with the chief magistrateof the nation at a special interview. The President was very affable, and was manifestly aware of Lyons's triumph at the expense of his ownparty, and of his consequent political importance. He treated the matterbanteringly, and Selma was pleased at her ability to enter into thespirit of his persiflage and to reciprocate. In her opinion solemnitywould have been more consistent with his position as the officialrepresentative of the people of the United States, and his jocosemanifestations at a time when serious conversation seemed to be in orderwas a disappointment, and tended to confirm her previous distrust of himas the leader of the opposite party. She had hoped he would broach somevital topics of political interest, and that she would have theopportunity to give expression to her own views in regard to publicquestions. Nevertheless, as the President saw fit to be humorous, shewas glad that she understood how to meet and answer his banteringsallies. She felt sure that Lyons, were he ever to occupy this dignifiedoffice, would refrain from ill-timed levity, but she bore in mind alsothe policy of conciliation which she had learned from her husband, andconcealed her true impressions. She noticed that both Lyons and Mr. Calkins forebore to show dissatisfaction, and she reflected that, thoughthe President's tone was light, there was nothing else in his appearanceor bearing to convict him of sympathy with lack of enthusiasm and withcynicism. It would have destroyed all the enjoyment of her interview hadshe been forced to conclude that a man who did not take himself and hisduties seriously could be elected President of the United States. Shewas not willing to believe this; but her suspicions were so far arousedthat she congratulated herself that her political opponents wereresponsible for his election. Nevertheless she was delighted by thedistinction of the private audience, and by the episode at its close, which gave her opportunity to show her individuality. Said the Presidentgallantly as she was taking leave:

"Will you permit me to congratulate Congressman Lyons on his goodfortune in the affairs of the heart as well as in politics?"

"If you say things like that, Mr. President, " interjected Lyons, "youwill turn her head; she will become a Republican, and then where shouldI be?"

While she perceived that the President was still inclined to levity, thecompliment pleased Selma. Yet, though she appreciated that her husbandwas merely humoring him by his reply, she did not like the suggestionthat any flattery could affect her principles. She shook her headcoquettishly and said:

"James, I'm sure the President thinks too well of American women tobelieve that any admiration, however gratifying, would make me lukewarmin devotion to my party. "

This speech appeared to her apposite and called for, and she departed inhigh spirits, which were illuminated by the thought that theadministration was not wholly to be trusted. 

On the following evening Selma went to the reception at the White House. The process of arrival was trying to her patience, for they were obligedto await their turn in the long file of carriages. She could not butapprove of the democratic character of the entertainment, which anyonewho desired to behold and shake hands with the Chief Magistrate was freeto attend. Still, it again crossed her mind that, as an official's wife, she ought to have been given precedence. Their turn to alight came atlast, and they took their places in the procession of visitors on itsway through the East room to the spot where the President and his wife, assisted by some of the ladies of the Cabinet, were submitting to theordeal of receiving the nation. There was a veritable crush, in whichthere was every variety of evening toilette, a display essentially inkeeping with the doctrines which Selma felt that she stood for. She tookoccasion to rejoice in Lyons's ear at the realization of heranticipations in this respect. At the same time she was agreeablystimulated by the belief that her wedding dress was sumptuous andstylish, and her appearance striking. Her hair had been dressed aselaborately as possible; she wore all her jewelry; and she carried abouquet of costly roses. Her wish was to regard the function as theheight of social demonstration, and she had spared no pains to makeherself effective. She had esteemed it her duty to do so both as aCongressman's wife and as a champion of moral and democratic ideas. 

The crowd was oppressive, and three times the train of her dress wasstepped on to her discomfiture. Amid the sea of faces she recognized afew of the people she had seen at the hotel. It struck her that no oneof the women was dressed so elegantly as herself, an observation whichcheered her and yet was not without its thorn. But the music, thelights, and the variegated movement of the scene kept her sensesabsorbed and interfered with introspection, until at last they wereclose to the receiving party. Selma fixed her eyes on the President, expecting recognition. Like her husband, the President possessed a giftof faces and the faculty of rallying all his energies to the importanttask of remembering who people were. An usher asked and announced thenames, but the Chief Magistrate's perceptions were kept hard at work. His "How do you do, Congressman Lyons? I am very glad to see you here, Mrs. Lyons, " were uttered with a smiling spontaneity, which to his ownsoul meant a momentary agreeable relaxation of the nerves of memory, resembling the easy flourish with which a gymnast engaged in liftingheavy weights encounters a wooden dumb-bell. But though his eyes andvoice were flattering, Selma had barely completed the little bob of acourtesy which accompanied her act of shaking hands when she discoveredthat the machinery of the national custom was not to halt on theiraccount, and that she must proceed without being able to renew the halfflirtatious interview of the previous day. She proceeded to courtesy tothe President's wife and to the row of wives of members of the Cabinetwho were assisting. Before she could adequately observe them, she foundherself beyond and a part once more of a heterogeneous crush, thecurrent of which she aimlessly followed on her husband's arm. She wassuspicious of the device of courtesying. Why had not the President'swife and the Cabinet ladies shaken hands with her and given her anopportunity to make their acquaintance? Could it be that theadministration was aping foreign manners and adopting effete andaristocratic usages?

"What do we do now?" she asked of Lyons as they drifted along. 

"I'd like to find Horace Elton and introduce him to you. I caught aglimpse of him further on just before we reached the President. Horaceknows all the ropes and can tell us who everybody is. "

Selma had heard her husband refer to Horace Elton on several occasionsin terms of respectful and somewhat mysterious consideration. She hadgathered in a general way that he was a far reaching and formidablepower in matters political and financial, besides being the presidentand active organizer of the energetic corporation known as theConsumers' Gas Light Company of their own state. As they proceeded shekept her eyes on the alert for a man described by Lyons as short, heavily built, and neat looking, with small side whiskers and aclose-mouthed expression. When they were not far from the door of exitfrom the East room, some one on the edge of the procession accosted herhusband, who drew her after him in that direction. Selma found herselfin a sort of eddy occupied by half a dozen people engaged in observingthe passing show, and in the presence of Mr. And Mrs. Gregory Williams. It was Mr. Williams who had diverted them. He now renewed hisacquaintance with her, exclaiming--"My wife insisted that she had metyou driving with some one she believed to be your husband. I had heardthat Congressman Lyons was on his bridal tour, and now everything isclear. Flossy, you were right as usual, and it seems that our heartycongratulations are in order to two old friends. "

Williams spoke with his customary contagious confidence. Selma notedthat he was stouter and that his hair was becomingly streaked with gray. Had not her attention been on the lookout for his wife she might havenoticed that his eye wore a restless, strained expression despite hisaugust banker's manner and showy gallantry. She did observe that themoment he had made way for Flossy he turned to Lyons and began to talkto him in a subdued tone under the guise of watching the procession. 

The two women confronted each other with spontaneous forgetfulness ofthe past. There was a shade of haughtiness in Selma's greeting. She wasprepared to respect her husband's policy and to ignore the circumstancesunder which they had parted, but she wished Flossy to understand thatthis was an act of condescension on her part as a Congressman's wife, whose important social status was beyond question. She was so thoroughlyimbued with this sense of her indisputable superiority that she readilymistook Flossy's affability for fawning; whereas that young woman'singenuous friendliness was the result of a warning sentence from Gregorywhen Selma and her husband were seen approaching--"Keep a check on yourtongue, Floss. This statesman with a beard like a goat is likely to havea political future. "

"I felt sure it was you the other day, " Flossy said with smilingsprightliness, "but I had not heard of your marriage to Mr. Lyons. "

"We were married at Benham six weeks ago. We are to live in Benham. Wehave bought the house there which belonged to Mr. Parsons. We have justreturned from visiting the superb scenery of the Yosemite and the RockyMountains, and it made me prouder than ever of my country. IfCongressman Lyons had not been obliged to be present at the opening ofCongress, we should have spent our honeymoon in Europe. "

"Gregory and I passed last summer abroad yachting. We crossed on asteamer and had our yacht meet us there. Isn't it a jam to-night?"

"There seem to be a great many people. I suppose you came on from NewYork on purpose for this reception?"

"Mercy, no. We are staying with friends, and we hadn't intended to cometo-night. But we had been dining out and were dressed, so we thoughtwe'd drop in and show our patriotism. It's destruction to clothes, andI'm glad I haven't worn my best. "

Selma perceived Flossy's eye making a note of her own elaborate costume, and the disagreeable suspicion that she was overdressed reasserteditself. She had already observed that Mrs. Williams's toilette, thoughstylish, was comparatively simple. How could one be overdressed on suchan occasion? What more suitable time for an American woman to wear herchoicest apparel than when paying her respects to the President of theUnited States? She noticed that Flossy seemed unduly at her ease asthough the importance of the ceremony was lost on her, and that theygroup of people with whom Flossy had been talking and who stood a littleapart were obviously indulging in quiet mirth at the expense of some ofthose in the procession. 

"Are the friends with whom you are staying connected with theGovernment?" Selma asked airily. 

"Official people? Goodness, no. But I can point out to you who everybodyis, for we have been in Washington frequently during the last threesessions. Gregory has to run over here on business every now and then, and I almost always come with him. To-night is the opportunity to seethe queer people in all their glory--the woolly curiosities, as Gregorycalls them. And a sprinkling of the real celebrities too, " she added. 

Selma's inquiry had been put with a view to satisfy herself thatFlossy's friends were mere civilians. But she was glad of an opportunityto be enlightened as to the names of her fellow-officials, though sheresented Flossy's flippant tone regarding the character of theentertainment. While she listened to the breezy, running commentary bywhich Flossy proceeded to identify for her benefit the conspicuousfigures in the procession she nursed her offended sensibilities. 

"I should suppose, " she said, taking advantage of a pause, "that on suchan occasion as this everybody worth knowing would be present. "

Flossy gave Selma one of her quick glances. She had not forgotten thepast, nor her discovery of the late Mrs. Littleton's real grievanceagainst her and the world. Nor did she consider that her husband'scaveat debarred her from the amusement of worrying the wife of the Hon. James O. Lyons, provided it could be done by means of the truthingenuously uttered. She said with a confidential smile--

"The important and the interesting political people have otheropportunities to meet one another--at dinner parties and lesspromiscuous entertainments than this, and the Washington people haveother opportunities to meet them. Of course the President is a dear, andeveryone makes a point of attending a public reception once in a while, but this sort of thing isn't exactly an edifying society event. Forinstance, notice the woman in the pomegranate velvet with two diamondsprays in her hair. That's the wife of Senator Colman--his child wife, so they call her. She came to Washington six years ago as the wife of amember of the House from one of the wild and woolly States, and wasnotorious then in the hotel corridors on account of her ringletty ravenhair and the profusion of rings she wore. She used to make eyes at thehotel guests and romp with her husband's friends in the hotel parlors, which was the theatre of her social activities. Her husband died, and ayear ago she married old Senator Colman, old enough to be hergrandfather, and one of the very rich and influential men in the Senate. Now she has developed social ambition and is anxious to entertain. Theyhave hired a large house for the winter and are building a larger one. As Mrs. Polsen--that was her first husband's name--she was invitednowhere except to wholesale official functions like this. The wife of aUnited States Senator with plenty of money can generally attract afollowing; she is somebody. And it happens that people are amused byMrs. Cohnan's eccentricities. She still overdresses, and makes eyes, andshe nudges those who sit next her at table, but she is good-natured, says whatever comes into her head, and has a strong sense of humor. Soshe is getting on. "

"Getting on among society people?" said Selma drily. 

Flossy's eyes twinkled. "Society people is the generic name used forthem in the newspapers. I mean that she is making friends among thewomen who live in the quarter where I passed you the other day. "

Selma frowned. "It is not necessary, I imagine, to make friends of thatclass in order to have influence in Washington, --the best kind ofinfluence. I can readily believe that people of that sort would interestmost of our public women very little. "

"Very likely. I don't think you quite understand me, Mrs. Lyons, or weare talking at cross purposes. What I was trying to make clear is thatpolitical and social prominence in Washington are by no meanssynonimous. Of course everyone connected with the government whodesires to frequent Washington society and is socially available isreceived with open arms; but, if people are not socially available, itby no means follows that they are able to command social recognitionmerely because they hold political office, --except perhaps in the caseof wives of the Cabinet, of the Justices of the Supreme Court, or ofrich and influential Senators, where a woman is absolutely bent onsuccess and takes pains. I refer particularly to the wives, because asingle man, if he is reasonably presentable and ambitious, can go aboutmore or less, even if he is a little rough, for men are apt to bescarce. But the line is drawn on the women unless they are--er--reallyimportant and have to be tolerated for official reasons. Now every womanwho is not _persona grata_, as the diplomats say, anywhere else, is aptto attend the President's reception in all her finery, and that's why Isuggested that this sort of thing isn't exactly an edifying socialevent. It's amusing to come here now and then, just as it's amusing togo to a menagerie. You see what I mean, don't you?" Flossy asked, plyingher feathery fan with blithe nonchalance and looking into hercompanion's face with an innocent air. 

"I understand perfectly. And who are these people who draw the line?"

"It sometimes happens, " continued Flossy abstractedly, without appearingto hear this inquiry, "that they improve after they've been inWashington a few years. Take Mrs. Baker, the Secretary of the Interior'swife, receiving to-night. When her husband came to Washington threeyears ago she had the social adaptability of a solemn horse. But shepersevered and learned, and now as a Cabinet lady she unbends, and is nolonger afraid of compromising her dignity by wearing becoming clothesand smiling occasionally. But you were asking who the people are whodraw the line. The nice people here just as everywhere else; the peoplewho have been well educated and have fine sensibilities, and who believein modesty, and unselfishness and thorough ways of doing things. Youmust know the sort of people I mean. Some of them make too much of meremanners, but as a class they are able to draw the line because they drawit in favor of distinction of character as opposed to--what shall I callit?--haphazard custom-made ethics and social deportment. "

Flossy spoke with the artless prattle of one seeking to make herselfagreeable to a new-comer by explaining the existing order of things, butshe had chosen her words as she proceeded with special reference to herlistener's case. There was nothing in her manner to suggest that she wastrifling with the feelings of the wife of Hon. James O. Lyons, but toSelma's sensitive ear there was no doubt that the impertinent andunpatriotic tirade had been deliberately aimed at her. The closing wordshad a disagreeably familiar sound. Save that they fell from seeminglyfriendly lips they recalled the ban which Flossy had hurled at her atthe close of their last meeting--the ban which had decided her todeclare unwavering hostility against social exclusiveness. Its veiledreiteration now made her nerves tingle, but the personal affront stirredher less than the conclusion, which the whole of Flossy's commentarysuggested, that Washington--Washington the hearth-stone of Americanideals, was contaminated also. Flossy had given her to understand thatthe houses which she had assumed to be occupied by members of theGovernment were chiefly the residences of people resembling in characterthose whom she had disapproved of in New York. Flossy had intimated thatunless a woman were hand in glove with these people and ready to lowerherself to their standards, she must be the wife of a rich Senator to betolerated. Flossy had virtually told her that a Congressman's wife wasnobody. Could this be true? The bitterest part of all was that it wasevident Flossy spoke with the assurance of one uttering familiar truths. Selma felt affronted and bitterly disappointed, but she chose to meetMrs. Williams's innocent affability with composure; to let her see thatshe disagreed with her, but not to reveal her personal irritation. Shemust consider Lyons, whose swift political promotion was necessary forher plans. It was important that he should become rich, and if hisrelations with the firm of Williams & Van Horne tended to that end, nopersonal grievance of her own should disturb them. Even Flossy hadconceded that the wives of the highest officials could not be ignored. 

"I fear that we look at these matters from too different a standpoint todiscuss them further, " she responded, with an effort at smiling ease. "Evidently you do not appreciate that to the majority of the strongwomen of the country whose husbands have been sent to Washington asmembers of the Government social interests seem trivial compared withthe great public questions they are required to consider. These womendoubtless feel little inclination for fashionable and--or--frivolousfestivities, and find an occasion like this better suited to theirconception of social dignity. "

A reply by Flossy to this speech was prevented by the interruption ofLyons, who brought up Mr. Horace Elton for introduction to his wife. Selma knew him at once from his likeness to the description which herhusband had given. He was portly and thick-set, with a large neck, astrong, unemotional, high-colored face, and closely-shaven, small sidewhiskers. He made her a low bow and, after a few moments ofconversation, in the course of which he let fall a complimentaryallusion to her husband's oratorical abilities and gave her tounderstand that he considered Lyons's marriage as a wise and enviableproceeding, he invited her to promenade the room on his arm. Mr. Eltonhad a low but clear and dispassionate voice, and a concise utterance. His remarks gave the impression that he could impart more on any subjectif he chose, and that what he said proceeded from a reserve fund ofspecial, secret knowledge, a little of which he was willing to confideto his listener. He enlightened Selma in a few words as to a variety ofthe people present, accompanying his identification with a phrase or twoof comprehensive personal detail, which had the savor of being unknownto the world at large. 

"The lady we just passed, Mrs. Lyons, is the wife of the junior Senatorfrom Nevada. Her husband fell in love with her on the stage of a miningtown theatrical troupe. That tall man, with the profuse wavy hair andprominent nose, is Congressman Ross of Colorado, the owner of one of thelargest cattle ranches in the Far West. It is said that he has neversmoked, never tasted a glass of liquor, and never gambled in his life. "

In the course of these remarks Mr. Elton simply stated his interestingfacts without comment. He avoided censorious or satirical allusions tothe people to whom he called Selma's attention. On the contrary, hisobservations suggested sympathetically that he desired to point out toher the interesting personalities of the capital, and that he regardedthe entertainment as an occasion to behold the strong men and women ofthe country in their lustre and dignity. As they passed the lady inpomegranate velvet, Selma said, in her turn, "That is Mrs. Colman, Ibelieve. Senator Colman's child wife. " She added what was in herthoughts, "I understand that the society people here have taken her up. "

"Yes. She has become a conspicuous figure in Washington. I remember her, Mrs. Lyons, when she was Addie Farr--before she married CongressmanPolsen of Kentucky. She was a dashing looking girl in those days, withher black eyes and black ringlets. I remember she had a coltish way oftossing her head. The story is that when she accepted Polsen anotherKentuckian--a young planter--who was in love with her, drank laudanum. Now, as you say, she is being taken up socially, and her husband, theSenator, is very proud of her success. After all, if a woman isambitious and has tact, what can she ask better than to be the wife of aUnited States Senator?" He paused a moment, then, with a gallantsidelong glance at his companion, resumed in a concise whisper, whichhad the effect of a disclosure, "Prophecies, especially politicalprophecies, are dangerous affairs, but it seems to me not improbablethat before many years have passed the wife of Senator Lyons will beequally prominent--be as conspicuous socially as the wife of SenatorColman. "

Selma blushed, but not wholly with pleasure. Socially conspicuous beforemany years? The splendid prophecy, which went beyond the limit of HoraceElton's usual caution--for he combined the faculty of habitualdiscretion with his chatty proclivities--was dimmed for Selma by therasping intimation that she was not conspicuous yet. Worse still, hisstatement shattered the hope, which Flossy's fluent assertions hadalready disturbed, that she was to find in Washington a company ofcongenial spirits who would appreciate her at her full value forthwith, and would join with her and under her leadership in resisting theencroachments of women of the stamp of Mrs. Williams. 

"I am very ambitious for my husband, Mr. Elton, and of course I havehoped--do hope that some day he will be a Senator. What you said justnow as to the power of his voice to arouse the moral enthusiasm of thepeople seemed to be impressively true. I should be glad to be aSenator's wife, for--for I wish to help him. I wish to demonstrate thetruth of the principles to which both our lives are dedicated. But Ihoped that I might help him now--that my mission might be clear at once. It seems according to you that a Congressman's wife is not of muchimportance; that her hands are tied. "

"Practically so, unless--unless she has unusual social facility, and theright sort of acquaintances. Beauty, wealth and ambition are valuableaids, but I always am sorry for women who come here without friends, and--er--the right sort of introduction. At any rate, to answer yourquestion frankly, a Congressman's wife has her spurs to win just as hehas. If you were to set up house-keeping, here, Mrs. Lyons, I've nodoubt that a woman of your attractions and capabilities would soon makea niche for herself. You have had social experience, which Addie Farr, for instance, was without. "

"I lived in New York for some years with my husband, Mr. Littleton, so Ihave a number of Eastern acquaintances. "

"I remember you were talking with Mrs. Gregory Williams when I wasintroduced to you. The people with whom she is staying are among themost fashionable in Washington. What I said had reference to the wife ofthe every-day Congressman who comes to Washington expecting recognition. Not to Mrs. James O. Lyons. "

Selma bit her lip. She recognized the death-knell of her cherishedexpectations. She was not prepared to acknowledge formally herdiscomfiture and her disappointment. But she believed that Mr. Elton, though a plain man, had comprehensive experience and that he spoke withshrewd knowledge of the situation. She felt sure that he was not tryingto deceive or humiliate her. It was clear that Washington wascontaminated also. 

"I dare say I should get on here well enough after a time, though Ishould find difficulty in considering that it was right to give so muchtime to merely social matters. But Mr. Lyons and I have already decidedthat I can be more use to him at present in Benham. There I feel athome. I am known, and have my friends, and there I have importantwork--literary lectures and the establishment of a large public hospitalunder way. If the time comes, as you kindly predict, that my husband ischosen a United States Senator, I shall be glad to return here andaccept the responsibilities of our position. But I warn you, Mr. Elton, --I warn the people of Washington, " she added with a wave of herfan, while her eyes sparkled with a stern light "that when I am one oftheir leaders, I shall do away with some of the--er--false customs ofthe present administration. I shall insist on preserving our Americansocial traditions inviolate. "

Here was the grain of consolation in the case, which she clutched at andheld up before her mind's eye as a new stimulus to her patriotism andher conscience. Both Mr. Elton and Flossy had indicated that there was apoint at which exclusiveness was compelled to stop in its haughtydisregard of democratic ideals. There were certain women whom the peoplewho worshipped lack of enthusiasm and made an idol of cynicism wereobliged to heed and recognize. They might be able to ignore theintelligence and social originality of a Congressman's wife, but theydared not turn a cold shoulder on the wife of a United States Senator. And if a woman--if she were to occupy this proud position, what asatisfaction it would be to assert the power which belonged to it;assert it in behalf of the cause for which she had suffered so much! Herdisappointment tasted bitterly in her mouth, and she was conscious ofstern revolt; but the new hope had already taken possession of herfancy, and she hastened to prove it by the ethical standard withoutwhich all hopes were valueless to her. Even now had anyone told her thatthe ruling passion of her life was to be wooed and made much of by thevery people she professed to despise, she would have spurned the accuseras a malicious slanderer. Nor indeed would it have been wholly true. Mrs. Williams had practically told her this at their last meeting in NewYork, and its utterance had convinced her on the contrary of repugnanceto them, and of her desire to be the leader of a social protest againstthem. Now here, in Washington of all places, she was confronted by thebitter suggestion that she was without allies, and that her enemies werethe keepers of the door which led to leadership and power. Despondencystared her in the face, but a splendid possibility--aye probability wasleft. She would not forsake her principles. She would not lower herflag. She would return to Benham. Washington refused her homage now, butit should listen to her and bow before her some day as the wife of oneof the real leaders of the State, whom Society did not dare to ignore. 

CHAPTER VII. 

At the close of the fortnight of her stay in Washington subsequent tothe reception at the White House, Selma found herself in the same frameof mind as when she parted from Mr. Elton. During this fortnight hertime was spent either in sight seeing or at the hotel. The exercises atthe Capitol were purely formal, preliminary to a speedy adjournment ofCongress. Consequently her husband had no opportunity to distinguishhimself by addressing the house. Of Flossy she saw nothing, though thetwo men had several meetings. Apparently both Lyons and Williams werecontent with a surface reconciliation between their wives which did notbar family intercourse. At least her husband made no suggestion that sheshould call on Mrs. Williams, and Flossy's cards did not appear. Beyondmaking the acquaintance of a few more wives and daughters in the hotel, who seemed as solitary as herself, Selma received no overtures from herown sex. She knew no one, and no one sought her out or paid herattention. She still saw fit to believe that if she were to establishherself in Washington and devote her energies to rallying these wivesand daughters about her, she might be able to prove that Flossy and Mr. Elton were mistaken. But she realized that the task would be less simplethan she had anticipated. Besides she yearned to return to Benham, andtake up again the thread of active life there. Benham would vindicateher, and some day Benham would send her back to Washington to claimrecognition and her rightful place. 

Lyons himself was in a cheerful mood and found congenial occupation invisiting with his wife the many historical objects of interest, and inchatting in various hotel corridors with the public men of the country, his associates in Congress. His solicitude in regard to the accountwhich Williams was carrying for him had been relieved temporarily by anupward turn in the stock market, and the impending prompt adjournment ofCongress had saved him from the necessity of taking action in regard tothe railroad bill which Williams had solicited him to support. MoreoverSelma had repeated to him Horace Elton's prophecy that it was notunlikely that some day he would become Senator. To be sure he recognizedthat a remark like this uttered to a pretty woman by an astute man ofaffairs such as Elton was not to be taken too seriously. There was novacancy in the office of Senator from his state, and none was likely tooccur. At the present time, if one should occur, his party in the statelegislature was in a minority. Hence prophecy was obviously a randomproceeding. Nevertheless he was greatly pleased, for, after all, Eltonwould scarcely have made the speech had he not been genuinely welldisposed. A senatorship was one of the great prizes of political life, and one of the noblest positions in the world. It would afford him agolden opportunity to leave the impress of his convictions on nationallegislation, and defend the liberties of the people by force of theoratorical gifts which he possessed. Elton had referred to these giftsin complimentary terms. Was it not reasonable to infer that Elton wouldbe inclined to promote his political fortunes? Such an ally would beinvaluable, for Elton was a growing power in the industrial developmentof the section of the country where they both lived. He had continued tofind him friendly in spite of his own antagonism on the public platformto corporate power. A favorite and conscientious hope in his politicaloutlook was that he might be able to make capital as well as laborbelieve him to be a friend without alienating either; that he mightobtain support at the polls from both factions, and thus be left freeafter election to work out for their mutual advantage appropriatelegislation. He had avowed himself unmistakably the champion of popularprinciples in order to win the confidence of the common people, but hispolicy of reasonable conciliation led him to cast sheep's eyes at vestedinterests when he could do so without exposing himself to the charge ofinconsistency. Many of his friends were wealthy men, and his privateambition was to amass a handsome fortune. That had been the cause of hisspeculative ventures in local enterprises which promised large returns, and in the stock market. Horace Elton was a friend of but three years'standing; one of the men who had consulted him occasionally in regard tolegal matters since he had become a corporation attorney. He admiredElton's strong, far-reaching grasp of business affairs, his capacity toformulate and incubate on plans of magnitude without betraying a sign ofhis intentions, and his power to act with lightning despatch andoverwhelming vigor when the moment for the consummation of his purposesarrived. He also found agreeable Elton's genial, easy-going ways outsideof business hours, which frequently took the form of socialentertainment at which expense seemed to be no consideration andgastronomic novelties were apt to be presented. Lyons attended one ofthese private banquets while in Washington--a dinner party served to acarefully chosen company of public men, to which newspaper scribes wereunable to penetrate. This same genial, easy-going tendency of Elton's tomake himself acceptable to those with whom he came in contact took theform of a gift to Mrs. Lyons of a handsome cameo pin which he presentedto her a day or two after their dialogue at the President's reception, and for which, as he confidentially informed Selma, he had been seekinga suitable wearer ever since he had picked it up in an out-of-the-waystore in Brussels the previous summer. 

On the day of their departure Selma, as she took a last look from thecar window at the Capitol and the Washington Monument, said to herhusband: "This is a beautiful city--worthy in many respects of thegenius of the American people--but I never wish to return to Washingtonuntil you are United States Senator. "

"Would you not be satisfied with Justice of the Supreme Court?" askedLyons, gayly. 

"I should prefer Senator. If you were Senator, you could probably beappointed to the Supreme Court in case you preferred that place. I amrelying on you, James, to bring me back here some day. "

She whispered this in his ear, as they sat with heads close togetherlooking back at the swiftly receding city. Selma's hands were clasped inher lap, and she seemed to her lover to have a dreamy air--an airsuggesting poetry and high ethical resolve such as he liked to associatewith her and their scheme of wedded life. It pleased him that his wifeshould feel so confident that the future had in store for him this greatprize, and he allowed himself to yield to the pathos of the moment andwhisper in reply:

"I will say this, Selma. My business affairs look more favorable, and, if nothing unforeseen happens, I do not see why we shouldn't get onreasonably fast. Nowadays, in order to be a United States Senatorcomfortably, it is desirable in the first place to have abundant means. "

"Yes. "

"We must be patient and God-fearing, and with your help, dear, and yoursympathy, we may live to see what you desire come to pass. Of course, myambition is to be Senator, and--and to take you back to Washington as aSenator's wife. "

Selma had not chosen to confide to Lyons in set terms her socialgrievance against the capital of her country. But she was glad toperceive from his last words that he understood she was not satisfiedwith the treatment accorded her, and that he also was looking forward togiving her a position which would enable her to rebuke the ungodly andpresumptuous. 

"Thank you, James, " she answered. "When that time comes we shall be ableto teach them a number of things. For the present though, I feel that Ican be of best service to you and to the truths which we are living forby interesting myself in whatever concerns Benham. We believe in Benham, and Benham seems inclined to believe in us and our ideas. "

The ensuing year passed uneventfully. Lyons was able to be at home fromthe first of April to the reassembling of Congress in the followingDecember. He was glad to give himself up to the enjoyment of hishandsome establishment. He resumed the tenor of his professionalpractice, feeling that as a sober-minded, married citizen he had becomeof more importance to the community, and he was eager to bear witness tohis sense of responsibility. He took a more active part in solicitingcontributions for evangelizing benighted countries, and he consented onseveral occasions to deliver an address on "Success in Life" tostruggling young men of Benham and the surrounding towns. His easy flowof words, his dignity and his sober but friendly mien made him afavorite with audiences, and constantly broadened his circle ofacquaintance. 

Selma, on her side, took up the organization of the Free Hospitalprovided by Mr. Parsons. Her husband left the decision of all but legaland financial questions to her and Miss Luella Bailey, who, at Selma'srequest, was made the third member of the board of trustees. She decidedto call in a committee of prominent physicians to formulate a programmeof procedure in matters purely medical; but she reserved a right ofrejection of their conclusions, and she insisted on the recognition ofcertain cardinal principles, as she called them. She specified that noone school of medicine should dictate the policy of the hospital asregards the treatment of patients. To the young physician whom sheselected to assist her in forming this administrative board she stated, with stern emotion: "I do not intend that it shall be possible in thishospital for men and women to be sacrificed simply because doctors areunwilling to avail themselves of the latest resources of brilliantindividual discernment. I know what it means to see a beloved one die, who might have been saved had the physician in charge been willing totry new expedients. The doors of this hospital must be ever open torising unconventional talent. There shall be no creeds nor caste ofmedicine here. "

She also specified that the matron in charge of the hospital should beMrs. Earle, whose lack of trained experience was more thancounterbalanced by her maternal, humanitarian spirit, as Selma expressedit. She felt confident that Mrs. Earle would choose as her assistantscompetent and skilful persons, and at the same time that her broad pointof view and sympathetic instincts would not allow her to turn a deaf earto aspiring but technically ignorant ability. This selection of Mrs. Earle was a keen pleasure to Selma. It seemed to her an ideal selection. Mrs. Earle was no longer young, and was beginning to find the constantlabor of lecture and newspaper work exhausting. This dignified andimportant post would provide her with a permanent income, and wouldafford her an attractive field for her progressive capabilities. 

Selma's choice of young Dr. Ashmun as the head of the medical board wasdue to a statement which came to her ears, that he was reviled by someof the physicians of Benham because he had patented certain discoveriesof his own instead of giving his fellow-practitioners the benefit of hisknowledge. Selma was prompt to detect in this hostility an enviousdisposition on the part of the regular physicians to appropriate thefruits of individual cleverness and to repress youthful revolt againstconventional methods. Dr. Ashmun regarded his selection as theprofessional chief of this new institution as a most auspiciousoccurrence from the standpoint of his personal fortunes. He wasambitious, ardent, and keen to attract attention, with an abundant fundof energy and a nervous, driving manner. He was, besides, good lookingand fluent, and he quickly perceived the drift of Selma's intentions inregard to the hospital, and accommodated himself to them withenthusiasm. They afforded him the very opportunity which he mostdesired--the chance to assert himself against his critics, and to obtainpublic notice. The watchword of liberty and distrust of professionalcanons suited his purposes and his mood, and he threw himself eagerlyinto the work of carrying out Selma's projects. 

As a result of the selection of Dr. Ashmun and of the other members ofthe administrative board, who were chosen with a view to theiravailability as sympathetic colleagues, letters of protest from severalphysicians appeared in the newspapers complaining that the new hospitalwas being conducted on unscientific and shallow principles, disapprovedof by the leading men of the profession. Selma was indignant yetthrilled. She promptly took steps to refute the charge, and explainedthat the hostility of these correspondents proceeded from envy andhide-bound reluctance to adopt new and revolutionizing expedients. Through the aid of Mrs. Earle and Miss Luella Bailey a double-leadedcolumn in the Benham _Sentinel_ set forth the merits of the newdeparture in medicine, which was cleverly described as the revolt of thetalented young men of the profession from the tyranny of theirconservative elders. Benham became divided in opinion as to the meritsof this controversy, and Selma received a number of anonymous lettersthrough the post approving her stand in behalf of advanced, independentthought. Among the physicians who were opposed to her administration ofthe hospital she recognized with satisfaction the name of a Dr. Paget, who, as she happened to know, was Mrs. Hallett Taylor's medical adviser. 

Another matter in which Selma became interested was the case of Mrs. Hamilton. She was a woman who had been born in the neighborhood ofBenham, but had lived for twenty years in England, and had been tried inEngland by due process of law for the murder of her husband andsentenced to imprisonment for life. Some of the people of the state whohad followed the testimony as reported in the American newspapers haddecided that she ought not to have been convicted. Accordingly apetition setting forth the opinion of her former neighbors that she wasinnocent of the charge, and should as an American citizen be releasedfrom custody, was circulated for signature. A public meeting was heldand largely attended, at which it was resolved to send a monsterpetition to the British authorities with a request for Mrs. Hamilton'spardon, and also to ask the government at Washington to intercede onbehalf of the unfortunate sufferer. The statement of the case appealedvividly to Selma, and at the public meeting, which was attended chieflyby women, she spoke, and offered the services of her husband to lay thematter before the President. It was further resolved to obtain the namesof influential persons all over the country in order that the petitionmight show that the sentiment that injustice had been done was nationalas well as local. 

Selma espoused the case with ardor, and busied herself in obtainingsignatures. She called on Miss Flagg and induced her to sign by theassurance that the verdict was entirely contrary to the evidence. Shethen had recourse to her former sister-in-law, conceiving that thesignature of the President of Wetmore College would impress the English. She and Pauline had already exchanged visits, and Pauline had shown noumbrage at her marriage. The possibility of being rebuffed on thisoccasion did not occur to Selma. She took for granted that Pauline wouldbe only too glad to give her support to so deserving a petition, and sheconsidered that she was paying her a compliment in soliciting her namefor insertion among the prominent signers. Pauline listened to herattentively, then replied:

"I am sorry for the woman, if she is innocent: and if she has beenfalsely accused, of course she ought to be released. But what makes youthink she is innocent, Selma?"

"The testimony did not justify her conviction. Every one is of thatopinion. "

"Have you read the testimony yourself, Selma?"

"No, Pauline. "

"Or your husband?"

"My husband is satisfied from what others have told him, just as I am, that this poor American woman is languishing in prison as the result ofa cruel miscarriage of justice, and that she never committed the crimeof which she has been found guilty. My husband has had considerablelegal experience. "

Pauline's questions were nettling, and Selma intended by her response tosuggest the presumptuousness of her sister-in-law's doubts in the faceof competent authority. 

"I realize that your husband ought to understand about such matters, butmay one suppose that the English authorities would deliberately allow aninnocent woman to remain in prison? They must know that the friends ofMrs. Hamilton believe her innocent. Why should we on this side of thewater meddle simply because she was born an American?"

"Why?" Selma drew herself up proudly. "In the first place I believe--webelieve--that the English are capable of keeping her in prison on atechnicality merely because she is there already. They are worshippersof legal form and red tape, my husband says. And as to meddling, why isit not our duty as an earnest and Christian people to remonstrateagainst the continued incarceration of a woman born under our flag andaccustomed to American ideas of justice? Meddling? In my opinion, weshould be cowards and derelict in our duty if we did not protest. "

Pauline shook her head. "I cannot see it so. It seems to me aninterference which may make us seem ridiculous in the eyes of theEnglish, as well as offensive to them. I am sorry, Selma, not to be ableto do as you wish. "

Selma rose with burning cheeks, but a stately air. "If that is yourdecision, I must do without your name. Already we have many signatures, and shall obtain hundreds more without difficulty. We look at thingsdifferently, Pauline. Our point of view has never been the same. Ridiculous? I should be proud of the ridicule of people too selfish ortoo unenlightened to heed the outcry of aspiring humanity. If we had todepend on your little set to strike the note of progress, I fear weshould sit with folded hands most of the time. "

"I do not know what you mean by my little set, " said Pauline with asmile. "I am too busy with my college duties to belong to any set. I seemy friends occasionally just as you see yours; and as to progress--well, I fear that you are right in your statement that we shall never look atthings alike. To me progress presupposes in the individual or thecommunity attaining it a prelude of slow struggle, disheartening doubts, and modest reverence for previous results--for the accumulated wisdom ofthe past. "

"I mean by your set the people who think as you do. I understand yourpoint of view. I should have liked, " she added, "to ask you to sharewith me the responsibility of directing the policy of the Benham FreeHospital, had I not known that you would listen to the voice ofconservative authority in preference to that of fearless innovation. "

"I certainly should have hesitated long before I overruled theexperience of those who have devoted their lives to conscientious effortto discover truth. "

"That illustrates admirably the difference between us, Pauline. No oneis more eager to aid the discovery of truth than I, but I believe thattruth often is concealed from those who go on, day after day, followinghum-drum routine, however conscientious. I recognized that Dr. Ashmunwas a live man and had fresh ideas, so I chose him as our chief ofstaff, notwithstanding the doctors were unfriendly to him. As a result, my hospital has individuality, and is already a success. That's the sortof thing I mean. Good-by, " she said, putting out her hand. "I don'texpect to convert you, Pauline, to look at things my way, but you mustrealize by this time that it is the Benham way. "

"Yet the leading physicians of Benham disapprove of your plans for themanagement of the hospital, " said Pauline firmly. 

"But the people of Benham approve of them. I prefer their sanction tothat of a coterie of cautious, unenthusiastic autocrats. "

Selma, true to her intentions, did not return to Washington with herhusband when Congress reassembled in December. While she was absorbedwith her philanthropic plans in Benham, Lyons was performing his publicduties; seeking to do the country good service, and at the right momentto attract attention to himself. The opportunity to make a speech alongthe line of his public professions in behalf of labor against corporatemonopoly did not offer itself until late in the session. He improved thefew minutes allowed him to such advantage that he was listened to withclose attention, and was at once recognized as one of the persuasive andeloquent speakers of the minority. Before Congress adjourned he obtainedanother chance to take part in debate, by which he produced an equallyfavorable impression. The newspapers of the country referred approvinglyto his cogent gift of statement and dignified style of delivery. Boththe bills against which he spoke were passed by the Republican majority, but echoes of his words came back from some of their constituents, andLyons was referred to as certain to be one of the strong men of theHouse if he returned to Congress. He went home at the close of thesession in a contented frame of mind so far as his political prospectswere concerned, but he was not free to enjoy the congratulationsaccorded him for the reason that his business ventures were beginning togive him serious solicitude. The trend of the stock market was againdownward. In expectation of a rise from the previous depression, he hadadded to the line of shares which Williams & Van Horne were carrying forhim. A slight rise had come, sufficient to afford him a chance to escapefrom the toils of Wall street without loss. But he needed a profit torehabilitate his ventures in other directions--his investments in theenterprises of his own state, which had now for some months appearedquiescent, if not languishing, from a speculative point of view. Everything pointed, it was said, to a further advance as soon asCongress adjourned. So he had waited, and now, although the session wasover, the stock market and financial undertakings of every sort appearedsuddenly to be tottering. He had not been at home a month before pricesof all securities began to shrink inordinately and the business horizonto grow murky with the clouds of impending disaster. To add to hisworry, Lyons was conscious that he had pursued a fast and loose mentalcoarse in regard to the railroad bill in which his broker, Williams, wasinterested. He had given Williams to understand that he would try to seehis way to support it; yet in view of his late prominence in Washington, as a foe of legislation in behalf of moneyed interests, he was more thanever averse to casting a vote in its favor. The bill had not beenreached before adjournment, a result to which he had secretlycontributed, but it was certain to be called up shortly after Congressreassembled. It disturbed him to feel that his affairs in New York werein such shape that Williams could embarrass him financially if he chose. It disturbed him still more that he appeared to himself to be guilty ofbad faith. His conscience was troubled, and his favorite palliative ofconciliation did not seem applicable to the case. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Until this time the course of financial events in Benham since itsevolution from a sleepy country town began had been steadily prosperous. There had been temporary recessions in prices, transient haltings in thetendency of new local undertakings to double and quadruple in value. Afew rash individuals, indeed, had been forced to suspend payments andcompound with their creditors. But there had been no real set back tocommercial enthusiasm and speculative gusto. Those who desired to borrowmoney for progressive enterprises had found the banks accommodating andunsuspicious, and to Benham initiative it yet appeared that thedevelopment of the resources of the neighborhood by the unwearying, masterful energy of the citizens was still in its infancy. 

But now, after a few months of inactivity, which holders of speculativesecurities had spoken of as another healthy breathing spell, thetendency of prices had changed. Had not merely halted, but showed aradical tendency to shrink; even to tumble feverishly. Buyers werescarce, and the once accommodating banks displayed a heartlessdisposition to scrutinize collateral and to ask embarrassing questionsin regard to commercial paper. Rates of interest on loans wereruthlessly advanced, and additional security demanded. A pall ofdejection hung over Benham. Evil days had come; days the fruit of a longperiod of inflation. A dozen leading firms failed and carried down withthem diverse small people. Amid the general distrust and anxiety alleyes were fixed on Wall street, the so-called money centre of thecountry, the Gehenna where this cyclone had first manifested itself. Thenewspapers, voicing Benham public opinion, cast vituperation at thebankers and brokers of Wall street, whose unholy jugglings with fortunehad brought this commercial blight on the community. Wall street hadlocked up money; consequently funds were tight in Benham, and the plansof its honest burghers to promote enterprise and develop the lawfulindustries of the country were interrupted. So spoke public opinion, and, at the same time, hundreds of private letters were being despatchedthrough the Benham Post Office in response to requests for more marginson stocks held for the honest burghers by the fraternity of Wall streetgamblers. There was private wailing and gnashing of teeth also, for inthe panic a few of these bankers and brokers had been submerged, and thecollateral of Benham's leading citizens had been swept away. 

The panic itself was brief as panics always are, but it left behind iteverywhere a paralyzed community. So far as Benham was concerned, only afew actually failed, but, in a host of instances, possessors of propertywho had thought themselves wealthy a year before found that they wereface to face with the knotty problem of nursing their dwarfed resourcesso as to avoid eventual insolvency. Everything had shrunk fifty--oftenone hundred--per cent. , for the basis of Benham's semi-fabulousdevelopment had been borrowed money. Many of Benham's leading citizenswere down to hard pan, so to speak. Their inchoate enterprises werebeing carried by the banks on the smallest margins consistent with thesolvency of those institutions, and clear-headed men knew that months ofrecuperation must elapse before speculative properties would show lifeagain. Benham was consequently gloomy for once in despite of its nativebuoyancy. It would have arisen from the ashes of a fire as strenuous asa young lion. But, with everybody's stocks and merchandise pledged tothe money lenders, enterprise was gripped by the throat. In the pride ofits prosperity Benham had dreamed that it was a law unto itself, andthat even Wall street could not affect its rosy commercial destinies. Itappeared to pious owners of securities almost as though God had desertedhis chosen city of a chosen country. 

Lyons was among those upon whom the harrow of this fall in prices andsubsequent hand-to-mouth struggle with the banks pressed with unpleasantrigor. In business phraseology he was too much extended. Consequently, as the margins of value of the securities on which he had borroweddropped away, he was kept on tenter-hooks as to the future. In case theprocess of shrinkage went much further, he would be required to supplymore collateral; and, if the rate of money did not fall, the banks wouldrefuse to renew his notes as they became due, unless he could furnishclear evidence of his solvency. He was owing over one hundred and fiftythousand dollars on paper secured only by the stock and bonds ofbrand-new enterprises, which had no market negotiability. From the moneywhich he had borrowed he had sent, from time to time, to Williams andVan Horne an aggregate of forty thousand dollars to protect some twothousand shares of railroad stocks. Williams had especially commendedthe shares of the coal-carrying roads to his attention, and the drop inprices had been uniformly severe in these properties. Instead of beingthe possessor of a stable quarter of a million, which he considered tobe the value of his property at the time of his election to Congress, Lyons suddenly realized that he was on the brink of a serious financialcollapse through which he might lose everything before he coulddischarge his liabilities. It seemed cruel to him, for he believed thatall his ventures were sound, and that if he were not forced to sacrificehis possessions, their future value would attest his sagacity. But atpresent the securities of speculative enterprises were practicallyworthless as procurers of ready money. The extreme circumstances hadcome upon him with startling rapidity, so that he found himself in theunpleasant predicament of having used for temporary relief some of thebonds belonging to the Parsons estate which he held as executor. He hadforwarded these to Williams merely as a matter of convenience before hehad become anxious, expecting to be able to replace them with fundscoming to him within thirty days from a piece of real estate for whichhe had received an offer. He had held off in the hope of obtaining ahigher price. The following week, when signs of danger were multiplying, he had found the would-be purchaser unwilling to buy at any price. Realizing the compromising position in which he had placed himself byhis action, he had cast about feverishly for the means to redeem thehypothecated securities, but all his resources were taxed of a sudden bythe advent of the panic. It occurred to him to ask Selma to allowsubstitution of the twenty thousand dollars, which had been apportioned, to her as her legacy, for the bonds, but at first he had shrunk from themortification of disclosing his condition to her, and now that thesituation had developed, he feared that he might be obliged to borrowthis money from her for the protection of his other interests. It gavehim sore concern that he, a champion of moral ideas, a leading churchmember, and a Representative of the Federal Government should be put insuch an equivocal position. Here again there was no opportunity forconciliation, and dignified urbanity was of no avail. If the conditionof drooping prices and general distrust, a sort of commercial dry-rot, which had succeeded the panic, continued much longer he would be drivento the wall unless relief were forthcoming. Nor was it much consolationthat many others were on the verge of failure. Financial insolvency forhim would mean the probable loss of his seat in Congress, and theserious interruption of his political career. From what source could hehope for relief? The preparations for the autumn campaign were alreadybeing considered, and there was likelihood of another close contestbetween the two political parties. But for the worry occasioned by hisplight, he would have resumed the contest with hopeful ardor, appreciating that the pecuniary distress of the community would belikely to work to his advantage. His own nomination was assured; hisre-election appeared probable. But after it what could he expect but thedeluge?

One source of the effectiveness of Horace Elton was that he was wont toexercise foresight, and make his plans in advance while other men wereslumbering. He had been prepared for the panic because he had beenexpecting it for more than a year, and the ship of his financialfortunes was close reefed to meet the fury of the overdue gale. Also hewas quick to recognize that the wide-spread depreciation of values wouldinevitably be followed by a period of business inactivity which wouldthrow out of employment a large number of wage earners whose ballots asa consequence would be cast against the political party in power. As farback as the time when he made the acquaintance of Selma at Washingtonand selected her as the wearer of his cameo pin, he had been incubatingon a scheme for the consolidation of the gas companies in the cities andtowns of the state into one large corporation. For this corporation herequired a liberal charter, which the next legislature would be invitedto grant. He expected to be able to procure this franchise from thelegislature, but he judged that the majority in favor of the bill wouldnot be large enough to pass it over the Governor's veto. Accordingly itwas of the first importance that the Governor should be friendly to themeasure. 

This was the year of the Presidential election. Both political partieswere seeking to nominate their strongest candidates for the variousfederal and state offices. A promoter of large business schemes was at adisadvantage in a campaign where party feelings ran high and nationalissues were involved, and Elton knew it. He commonly chose an off yearin politics for the consummation of his business deals. But he hadchosen to push his bill this year for the reason that he wished to be ina position to buy out the sub-companies cheaply. The community waspressed for ready money, and many men who would be slow in prosperoustimes to extract gas shares from their tin boxes and stockings would beglad to avail themselves of a reasonable cash offer. Elton was aRepublican on national issues. His experience had been that theRepublican Party was fundamentally friendly to corporations, in spite ofoccasional pious ejaculations in party platforms to the contrary. He hada Republican candidate for Governor in mind who would be faithful to hisinterests; but this candidate was put aside in the convention indeference to the sentiment that only a man of first-rate mental andmoral calibre could command the allegiance of independent voters, whoseco-operation seemed essential to party success. The Republican stateconvention was held three weeks prior to the date fixed for that oftheir opponents. Within twenty-four hours subsequent to the nominationof Hon. John Patterson as the Republican candidate for Governor, whilethe party organs were congratulating the public on his selection, andthe leaders of the party were endeavoring to suppress the murmurs of thedisappointed lower order of politicians who, in metaphorical phrase, felt that they were sewed up in a sack for another two years by thechoice of this strong citizen, one of the most widely circulateddemocratic newspapers announced in large type on its front page thatHon. James O. Lyons was the only Democrat who could defeat him in thegubernatorial contest. Behind the ledger sheet of this newspaper--whichwas no other than the Benham _Sentinel_--lurked the keen intelligence ofHorace Elton. He knew that the candidate of his own party would neverconsent to indicate in advance what his action on the gas bill would be, and that he would only prejudice his chances of obtaining favorableaction when the time arrived by any attempt to forestall a decision. This did not suit Horace Elton. He was accustomed to be able to obtainan inkling before election that legislation in which he was interestedwould not encounter a veto. His measures were never dishonest. That is, he never sought to foist bogus or fraudulent undertakings upon thecommunity. He was seeking, to be sure, eventual emolument for himself, but he believed that the franchise which he was anxious to obtain wouldresult in more progressive and more effectual public service. He hadnever before felt obliged to refrain from asking direct or indirectassurance that his plans would be respected by the Governor. Yet he hadforeseen the possibility of just such an occurrence. The one chance in ahundred had happened and he was ready for it. He intended to contributeto the Republican national campaign fund, but he did not feel that theinterests of his State would suffer if he used all the influences at hiscommand to secure a Governor who would be friendly to his scheme, andCongressman Lyons appeared to him the most available man for hispurpose. 

It had already occurred to Lyons that his nomination as Governor was apossibility, for the leaders of the party were ostensibly looking aboutfor a desirable Democrat with whom to confront Patterson, and had shownan intention to turn a cold shoulder on the ambition of severalaspirants for this honor who might have been encouraged in an ordinaryyear as probable victors. He knew that his name was under consideration, and he had made up his mind that he would accept the nomination if itwere offered to him. He would regret the interruption of hisCongressional career, but he felt that his election as Governor in apresidential year after a close contest would make him the leader of theparty in the State, and, in case the candidate of his party were chosenPresident, would entitle him to important recognition from the newadministration. Moreover, if he became Governor, his financial statuswould be strengthened. The banks would be more likely to accommodate onein such a powerful position, and he might be able to keep his head abovewater until better times brought about a return of public confidence anda recovery in prices. Yet he felt by no means sure that even as Governorhe could escape betraying his financial embarrassment, and his mind wasso oppressed by the predicament in which he found himself that he madeno effort on his own part to cause the party leaders to fix their choiceon him. Nor did he mention the possibility of his selection to Selma. Mortification and self-reproach had made him for the moment inert as tohis political future, and reluctant to confide his troubles to her. 

The clarion declaration of the Benham _Sentinel_ in favor of Lyonsevoked sympathetic echoes over the State, which promptly convinced thepolitical chieftains that he was the strongest candidate to pit againstPatterson. The enthusiasm caused by the suggestion of his name spreadrapidly, and at the end of a week his nomination at the convention wasregarded as certain. 

The championship of the _Sentinel_ was a complete surprise to Selma. Shehad assumed that her husband would return to Washington, and thatpolitical promotion for the present was out of the question. When shesaw her husband's features looking out at her from a large cut on thefront page of the morning newspaper, and read the conspicuous headingwhich accompanied it--"The _Sentinel_ nominates as Governor the Hon. James O. Lyons of Benham, the most eloquent orator and mostpublic-spirited citizen of the State"--her heart gave a bound, and sheeagerly asked herself, "Why not?" That was just what they needed, whatshe needed to secure her hold on the social evolution of Benham. As thewife of the Governor of the State she would be able to ignore the peoplewho held aloof from her, and introduce the reforms in social behavior onwhich her heart was set. 

"James, have you seen this?" she asked, eagerly. 

Lyons was watching her from across the breakfast table. He had seen it, and had laid the newspaper within her reach. 

"Yes, dear. It is very complimentary, isn't it?"

"But what does it mean? Are you to be Governor? Did you know of it, James?"

"I knew that my name, with others, had been mentioned by those who werelooking for a candidate whom we can elect. But this nomination of the_Sentinel_ comes from a clear sky. Would you like to have me Governor, Selma?"

"Yes, indeed. If the chance is offered you, James, you will surelyaccept it. It would please me immensely to see you Governor. We shouldnot be separated then part of the year, and--and I should be able herein Benham to help you as your wife ought to help you. I know, " sheadded, "that you have been looking forward to the next session ofCongress, in the hope of distinguishing yourself, but isn't this a fineropportunity? Doesn't it open the door to splendid possibilities?"

Lyons nodded. His wife's eager presentation of the case confirmed hisown conclusions. "It is an important decision to make, " he said, withgravity. "If I am not elected, I shall have lost my place in theCongressional line, and may find difficulty in recovering it later. Butif the party needs me, if the State needs me, I must not think of that. I cannot help being gratified, encouraged by the suggestion that myfellow-citizens of my political faith are turning to me as theirstandard-bearer at this time when great public issues are involved. If Ican serve God and my country in this way, and at the same time pleaseyou, my wife, what can I ask better?"

He spoke with genuine feeling and reverence, for it was in keeping withhis religious tendencies to recognize in advance the solemnresponsibilities of high office, and to picture himself as the agent ofthe heavenly powers. This attitude of mind always found Selmasympathetic and harmonious. Her eyes kindled with enthusiasm, and shereplied:

"You view the matter as I would have you view it, James. If this trustis committed to us by Providence, it is our duty to accept it as loversof our country and promoters of true progress. "

"It would seem so. And in some ways, " he said, as though he felt theimpulse to be reasonably frank toward Providence in his acceptance ofthe trust, "my election as Governor would be advantageous to mypolitical and business interests. I have not sought the office, " headded with dignified unction, "but my knowledge of local conditionsleads me to believe that this action of the _Sentinel_ signifies thatcertain powerful influences are working in my favor. I shall be able totell you more accurately in regard to this before long. "

Lyons happened to know that the Benham _Sentinel_ had enlarged its planttwo years previous, and that Horace Elton was still the holder of itsnotes for borrowed money. The transaction had passed through his bank, and in the course of his mental search for reasons to account for thesudden flat-footed stand of the newspaper, the thought came into hismind and dwelt there that Elton was at the bottom of it. If so, what wasElton's reason? Why should Elton, a Republican, desire his nomination?Surely not to compass his defeat. 

In this connection Elton's friendship and the prophecy made to Selma asto his political future occurred to him and forbade an invidioussupposition. "Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and thou shalt be what thouart promised!" Lyons left Selma with the conviction that he would findElton to be mainly responsible for what had taken place. Shortly afterreaching his office he received a note from him asking for anappointment. Punctually at twelve o'clock Elton arrived and was showninto Lyons's private room. Lyons gave orders that he was not to bedisturbed, for he believed that the results of the interview were likelyto have a serious bearing on his career as a statesman. 

Both men were of heavy physique, but as they sat facing each other anobserver would have remarked that Elton's visage possessed a clean-cutcompactness of expression despite its rotund contour. His closelytrimmed whiskers, his small, clear, penetrating eyes, and the effect ofneatness conveyed by his personal appearance were so many externalindications of his mental lucidity and precision. 

In contrast Lyons's moon-shaped face, emphasized by its smooth-shavenmobile mouth, below which his almost white chin beard hung pendent, expressed a curious interplay of emotional sanctity, urbane shrewdness, and solemn self-importance. 

"Governor Lyons, at your service, " said Elton, regarding him steadily. 

"Do you think so?"

"I know so, if you desire it. "

"The nomination, you mean?"

"The election by a comfortable majority. "

Lyons breathed hard with satisfaction. "If the people of the Statechoose to confide their interests to my custody, I shall not refuse toserve them. "

"So I supposed. You may be wondering, Lyons, why I, a Republican, shouldbe talking like this. I will tell you. Observation has led me to believethat the people of this State will elect a Democratic Governor thisyear. The hard times will hurt the administration. Consequently, as yourfriend and my own friend, I have taken the liberty to indicate to themanagers of your party their strongest man. I am responsible for whatyou saw on the front page of the _Sentinel_ this morning. There need notbe much difficulty, " he added, significantly, "in securing emphaticendorsement throughout the State of the _Sentinel's_ preference. "

Lyons looked grave. "You must be aware that our views on publicquestions--especially those which concern the relations of capital andlabor--are not the same. "

"Certainly. I tell you frankly that while, from a humanitarian point ofview, I respect your desire to relieve the inequalities of moderncivilization, as a business man and a man of some property I do notregard the remedies presented by your party platform as just oradequate. I recognize that your opinions are hostile to corporateinterests, but I have gathered also that you are disposed to bereasonable and conciliatory; that you are not inclined to regard all menand all measures as dangerous, merely because they have means or areintroduced in the name of capital. "

"It has always seemed to me that a conciliatory spirit secures the mostdefinite results for the public, " assented Lyons. 

"Precisely. See here, Lyons, " Elton said, leaning forward across thetable at which they were sitting, "I wish to be entirely frank with you. You know me well enough to understand that I have not offered you mysupport in any philanthropic spirit. I could not have deceived you as tothis had I tried. I am a practical man, and have an axe to grind. I amurging your election as Governor because I believe you to possessintelligent capacity to discriminate between what is harmful to thecommunity and what is due to healthy, individual enterprise--the energywhich is the sap of American citizenship. We capitalists have no fear ofan honest man, provided he has the desire and the ability to protectlegitimate business acumen against the slander of mere demagogues. Ihave a bill here, " he added, drawing a printed document from his pocket, "which I am desirous to see passed by the next legislature. It embodiesa charter authorizing the acquisition and merger in one corporation ofall the gas companies of this State, and an extension of corporatepowers so as to cover all forms of municipal lighting. Were your handsnot tied by your prospective election, I should be glad to offer you anopportunity to become one of the incorporators, for I believe that theundertaking will be lucrative. That, of course, is out of the question. Now then, this is a perfectly honest bill. On its face, to be sure, itsecures a valuable franchise for the petitioners, and consequently mayencounter some opposition. But, on the other hand, no one who considersthe matter candidly and closely can fail to recognize that the greatpublic will secure cheaper gas and more efficient service as the resultof the consolidation. And there is where I felt that I could count onyour intelligence. You would not allow the plea that capitalists wereinterested in obtaining a profitable franchise to obscure the more vitalconsideration that the community will be the true gainers. "

Lyons bowed graciously, and stroked his beard. "What is it you wish meto do?" he asked. 

"To read the bill in the first place; to convince yourself that what Ihave told you is true; to satisfy yourself that the measure isessentially harmless. The bill is not long. Read it now and let me hearyour objections. I have some papers here to look over which will occupyme a quarter of an hour, if you can spare me the time. "

Lyons acquiesced, and proceeded to peruse slowly the document. When hehad finished it he folded it solemnly and returned it to Elton. "It is abill framed in the interest of capital, but I cannot say that the publicwill be prejudiced by it. On the contrary, I should judge that the priceof gas in our cities and towns would be lowered as a consequence of thereduction in running expenses caused by the projected consolidation. What is it that you wish me to do?"

"Agree to sign the bill as it now stands if it passes the legislature. "

Lyons rested his head on his hand and his mouth moved tremulously. "If Iam elected governor, " he said, "I wish to serve the people honestly andfearlessly. "

"I am sure of it. I ask you to point out to me in what manner this billtrenches upon the rights of the people. You yourself have noted thecrucial consequence: It will lower the price of gas. If at the same timeI am benefited financially, why should I not reap the reasonable rewardof my foresight?"

"I will sign the bill, Elton, if it comes to me for signature. I may becriticised at first, but the improved public service and reduction ofthe gas bills will be my justification, and show that I have not beenunmindful of the interests of the great public whose burdens my party isseeking to lighten. "

"I shall count on you, then, " said Elton, after a pause. "The failure ofthe bill at the last stage when I was expecting its passage might affectmy affairs seriously. "

"If the legislature does its part, I will do mine, " responded Lyons, augustly. "I will sign the bill if it comes to me in the present form. "

"I thank you, Governor. "

Lyons looked confused but happy at the appellation. 

"By the way, " said Elton, after he had returned the papers to hispocket, "these are trying times for men with financial obligations. Itis my custom to be frank and not to mince matters where importantinterests are concerned. A candidate for office in this campaign willneed the use of all his faculties if he is to be successful. I should bevery sorry for the sake of my bill to allow your mind to be distractedby solicitude in regard to your private affairs. Some of the best andmost prudent of our business men are pressed to-day for ready money. Iam in a position to give you temporary assistance if you require it. Injustice to my interests you must not let delicacy stand in the way ofyour accepting my offer. "

Lyons's bosom swelled with the tide of returning happiness. He hadscarcely been able to believe his ears. Yet here was a definite, spontaneous proposition to remove the incubus which weighed upon hissoul. Here was an opportunity to redeem the bonds of the Parsons estateand to repair his damaged self-respect. It seemed to him as though theclouds of adversity which had encompassed him had suddenly been sweptaway, and that Providence was smiling down at him as her approved andfavorite son. His emotion choked his speech. His lip trembled and hiseyes looked as though they would fill with tears. After a brief pause hearticulated that he was somewhat pressed for ready money. Someexplanation of his affairs followed, the upshot of which was that Eltonagreed to indorse Lyons's promissory notes held by the banks to theamount of $60, 000, and to accept as collateral for a personal loan of$40, 000 certain securities of new local enterprises which had no presentmarketable value. By this arrangement his property was amply protectedfrom sacrifice; he would be able to adjust his speculative account inNew York; and he could await with a tranquil soul the return ofcommercial confidence. Lyons's heart was overflowing with satisfaction. He pressed Elton's hand and endeavored to express his gratitude withappropriate grandiloquence. But Elton disclaimed the obligation, asserting that he had acted merely from self-interest to make theelection of his candidate more certain. 

The loan of $40, 000 was completed within forty-eight hours, and beforethe end of another week Lyons had rescued the bonds of the Parsonsestate from pawn, and disposed of his line of stocks carried by Williams& Van Horne. They were sold at a considerable loss, but he made up hismind to free his soul for the time being from the toils and torment ofspeculation and to nurse his dwarfed resources behind the bulwark ofElton's relief fund until the financial situation cleared. He felt asthough he had grown ten years younger, and without confiding to Selmathe details of these transactions he informed her ecstatically that, owing to certain important developments, due partly to the friendlinessof Horace Elton, the outlook for their future advancement had never beenso bright. When a month later he was nominated as Governor he threwhimself into the contest with the convincing ardor of sincere, untrammelled faith in the reforms he was advocating. His speechesreflected complete concentration of his powers on the issues of thecampaign and evoked enthusiasm throughout the State by their eloquentarraignment of corporate rapacity at the expense of the sovereignpeople. In several of his most telling addresses he accused the nationaladministration of pandering to the un-American gamblers who bought andsold stocks in Wall street. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Lyons was chosen Governor by a large majority, as Elton had predicted. The Republican Party was worsted at the polls and driven out of powerboth at Washington and in the State. Lyons ran ahead of his ticket, receiving more votes than the presidential electors. The campaign wasfull of incidents grateful to Selma's self esteem. Chief among these wasthe conspicuous allusions accorded her by the newspapers. The campaignitself was a fervid repetition of the stirring scenes of two yearsprevious. Once more torch-light processions in vociferous serriedcolumns attested the intensity of party spirit. Selma felt herself anadept through her former experience, and she lost no opportunity to showherself in public and bear witness to her devotion to her husband'scause. It pleased her to think that the people recognized her when sheappeared on the balcony or reviewing stand, and that her presence evokedan increase of enthusiasm. 

But the newspaper publicity was even more satisfying, for it centredattention unequivocally on her. Columns of descriptive matter relativeto her husband's personality began to appear as soon as it becameobvious that he was to be Governor. These articles aimed to beexhaustive in their character, covering the entire scope of his pastlife, disclosing pitiless details in regard to his habits, tastes, andprivate concerns. Nothing which could be discovered or ferreted out wasomitted; and most of these biographies were illuminated by a variety ofmore or less hideous cuts showing, for example, his excellency as helooked as a school boy, his excellency as a fledgling attorney, thehumble home where his excellency was born, and his excellency's presentstately but hospitable residence on Benham's River Drive. Almost everynewspaper in the State took its turn at contributing something which itconceived to be edifying to this reportorial budget. And after theGovernor, came the turn of the Governor's lady, as she was called. 

Selma liked best the articles devoted exclusively to herself; where sheappeared as the special feature of the newspaper issue, not merely as anadjunct to her husband. But she liked them all, and she was mostbenignant in her reception of the several newspaper scribes, principallyof her own sex, who sought an interview for the sake of copy. Shewithheld nothing in regard to her person, talents, household, or tasteswhich would in her opinion be effective in print. She had a photographof herself taken in simple, domestic matronly garb to supplement thosewhich she already possessed, one of which revealed the magnificence ofthe attire she wore at the President's Reception; another portrayedLittleton's earnest bride, and still a fourth disclosed her as thewistful, aspiring school-mistress on the threshold of womanhood. These, and the facts appropriate to them, she meted out to her biographers fromtime to time, lubricating her amiable confidences with the assertionthat both she and her husband felt that the people were entitled to bemade familiar with the lives of their public representatives. As theresult of her gracious behavior, her willingness to supply interestingdetails concerning herself, and her flattering tendency to becomeintimate on the spot with the reporters who visited her, the newspaperarticles in most cases were in keeping with Selma's prepossessions. Those which pleased her most emphasized in the first place herintellectual gifts and literary talents, intimating delicately that shehad refused brilliant offers for usefulness with her pen and on thelecture platform in order to become the wife of Congressman Lyons, towhom her counsel and high ideals of public service were a constantstimulus. Emphasized in the second place her husband's and her own pioustastes, and strong religious convictions, to which their constant churchattendance and the simple sanctity of their American home boretestimony. Emphasized in the third place--reproducing ordinarily asketch and cut of her drawing-room--her great social gifts and graces, which had made her a leader of society in the best sense of the wordboth in Benham and in New York. A few of the articles stated injudicious terms that she had been twice a widow. Only one of them setthis forth in conspicuous and opprobrious terms: "Her Third Husband! OurChief Magistrate's Wife's Many Marriages!" Such was the unsympathetic, alliterative heading of the malicious statement which appeared in anopposition organ. It did no more than recall the fact that she hadobtained a divorce from her first husband, who had in his despair takento drink, and intimate that her second husband had not been altogetherhappy. Selma wept when she read the article. She felt that it was crueland uncalled for; that it told only half the truth and traduced herbefore the American people. She chose to conceive that it had beeninspired by Pauline and Mrs. Hallett Taylor, neither of whom had senther a word of congratulation on her promotion to be the Governor's wife. Who but Pauline knew that her marriage with Littleton had not beencompletely harmonious? Who but Mrs. Taylor or one of her set would havethe malice to insinuate that she had been merciless to Babcock? This wasone libel in a long series of complimentary productions. Therepresentation of the family group was made complete by occasionalreferences to the Governor elect's mother--"Mother Lyons, the venerableparent of our chief magistrate. " Altogether Selma felt that the picturepresented to the public was a truthful and inspiring record of pious andenterprising American life, which showed to the community that itschoice of a Governor had been wise and was merited. 

Close upon the election and these eulogistic biographies came theinauguration, with Lyons's eloquent address. Selma, of course, hadspecial privileges--a reserved gallery in the State House, to which sheissued cards of admission to friends of her own selection. Occupying infestal attire the centre of this conspicuous group, she felt that shewas the cynosure of every eye. She perceived that she was constantlypointed out as the second personage of the occasion. To the fewlegislators on the floor whom she already knew she took pains to bowfrom her seat with gracious cordiality, intending from the outset to aidher husband by captivating his friends and conciliating the leaders ofthe opposition party. On her way to and from the gallery she was joinedby several members, to each of whom she tried to convey subtly theimpression that she purposed to take an earnest interest in legislativeaffairs, and that her husband would be apt to consult her in regard toclose questions. On the morning after the inauguration she had thesatisfaction of seeing her own portrait side by side with that of herhusband on the front page of two newspapers, a flattering indication, asshe believed, that the press already recognized her value both as ahelpmate to him and an ornament to the State. She took up her life asthe Governor's lady feeling that her talents and eagerness to do goodhad finally prevailed and that true happiness at last was in store forher. She was satisfied with her husband and recognized his righteouspurpose and capacity as a statesman, but she believed secretly that hisrapid success was due in a large measure to her genius. Her promptinghad inspired him to make a notable speech in his first Congress. Hercharms and clever conversation had magnetized Mr. Elton so that he hadseen fit to nominate him for Governor. A fresh impulse to herself-congratulation that virtue and ability were reaping their rewardwas given a few weeks later by the announcement which Lyons read fromthe morning newspaper that the firm of Williams & Van Horne had faileddisastrously. The circumstances attending their down-fall weresensational. It appeared that Van Horne, the office partner, who managedthe finances, had shot himself as the culmination of a series offraudulent hypothecations of securities and misrepresentations to whichit was claimed that Williams was not a party. The firm had beenhopelessly insolvent for months, and had been forced to the wall at lastby a futile effort on the part of Van Horne to redeem the situation by afinal speculation on a large scale. It had failed owing to thecontinuation of the state of dry rot in the stock market, and utter ruinfollowed. 

The regret which Lyons entertained as he read aloud the tragic story wasovershadowed in his mind by his own thankfulness that he had redeemedthe bonds and settled his account with them before the crash came. Hewas so absorbed by his own emotions that he failed to note thetriumphant tone of his wife's ejaculation of amazement. "Failed!Williams & Van Horne failed! Oh, how did it happen? I always felt surethat they would fail sooner or later. "

Selma sat with tightly folded hands listening to the exciting narrative, which Lyons read for her edification with the urbanely mournful emphasisof one who has had a narrow escape. He stopped in the course of it torelieve any solicitude which she might be feeling in regard to hisdealings with the firm, by the assertion that he had only two monthsprevious closed out his account owing to the conviction that prudentinvestors were getting under cover. This assurance gave the episode astill more providential aspect in Selma's eyes. In the first flush ofher gratitude that Flossy had been superbly rebuked for her frivolousexistence, she had forgotten that they were her husband's brokers. Moreover the lack of perturbation in his manner was not calculated toinspire alarm. But the news that Lyons had been shrewd enough to escapeat the twelfth hour without a dollar's loss heightened the justice ofthe situation. She listened with throbbing pulses to the particulars. She could scarcely credit her senses that her irrepressible andlight-hearted enemy had been confounded at last--confronted withbankruptcy and probable disgrace. She interrupted the reading to expressher scepticism regarding the claim that Williams had no knowledge of thefrauds. 

"How could he be ignorant? He must have known. He must have bribed thereporters to put that in so as to arouse the sympathy of some of theirfashionable friends. Van Horne is dead, and the lips of the dead aresealed. "

Selma spoke with the confidence born of bitterness. She was pleased withher acumen in discerning the true inwardness of the case. Her husbandnodded with mournful acquiescence. "It would seem, " he said, "as if hemust have had an inkling, at least, of what was going on. "

"Of course he had. Gregory Williams, with all his faults, was awide-awake man. I always said that. "

Lyons completed the reading and murmured with a sigh, which was halfpity, half grateful acknowledgment of his own good fortune--"It's a badpiece of business. I'm glad I had the sense to act promptly. "

Selma was ruminating. Her steel bright eyes shone with exultation. Hersense of righteousness was gratified and temporarily appeased. "They'llhave to sell their house, of course, and give up their horses andsteam-yacht? I don't see why it doesn't mean that Flossy and her husbandmust come down off their pedestal and begin over again? It follows, doesn't it, that the heartless set into which they have wormed their waywill drop them like hot coals?"

All these remarks were put by Selma in the slightly interrogative form, as though she were courting any argument to the contrary which could beadduced in order to knock it in the head. But Lyons saw no reason todiffer from her verdict. "It means necessarily great mortification forthem and a curtailment of their present mode of life, " he said. "I amsorry for them. "

"Sorry? Of course, James, it is distressing to hear that misfortune hasbefallen any person of one's acquaintance, and so far as GregoryWilliams himself is concerned I have no wish to see him punished simplybecause he has been worldly and vainglorious. You thought him able in abusiness way, and liked to meet him. But as for her, Flossy, his wife, "Selma continued, with a gasp, "it would be sheer hypocrisy for me toassert that I am sorry for her. I should deem myself unworthy of beingconsidered an earnest-minded American woman if I did not maintain thatthis disgrace which has befallen them is the logical and legitimateconsequence of their godless lives--especially of her frivolity andpresumptuous indifference to spiritual influences. That woman, James, isutterly hostile to the things of the spirit. You have no conception--Ihave never told you, because he was your friend, and I was willing tolet bygones be bygones on the surface on your account--you have noconception of the cross her behavior became to me in New York. Fromalmost the first moment we met I saw that we were far apart as the polesin our views of the responsibilities of life. She sneered at everythingwhich you and I reverence, and she set her face against true progressand the spread of American principles. She claimed to be my friend, andto sympathize with my zeal for social truth, yet all the time she wastoadying secretly the people whose luxurious exclusiveness made metremble sometimes for the future of our country. She and her husbandwere prosperous, and everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. Itmay sound irreverent, James, but there was a time during my life in NewYork when I was discouraged; when it seemed as though heaven weremocking me and my husband in our homely struggle against the forces ofevil, and bestowing all its favors on a woman whose example was a menaceto American womanhood! Sorry? Why should I be sorry to see justicetriumph and shallow iniquity rebuked? I would give Florence Williamsmoney if she is in want, but I am thankful, very thankful, that herheartless vanity has found its proper reward. "

Lyons fingered his beard. "I didn't know she was as bad as that, Selma. Now that they have come to grief, we are not likely to be brought incontact with them, and in all probability they will pass out of ourlives. Williams was smart and entertaining, but I never liked his takingadvantage of the circumstances of my having an account in his office tourge me to support a measure at variance with my political convictions. "

"Precisely. The trouble with them both, James, is that they have noconscience; and it is eminently just they should be made to realize thatpeople who lack conscience cannot prosper in this country in the longrun. 'They have loosed the awful lightnings of his terrible swiftsword. '"

"I say 'amen' to that assuredly, Selma, " Lyons answered. Hispredilection to palliate equivocal circumstances was never proof againstclear, evidence of moral delinquency. When his religious scruples werefinally offended, he was grave and unrelenting. 

The downfall of the Williamses continued to be a sweet solace and sourceof encouragement to Selma. It made her, when taken in conjunction withher own recent progress, feel that the whirligig of time was working inher behalf after all; and that if she persevered, not merely Flossy, butall those who worshipped mammon, and consequently failed to recognizeher talents, would be made to bite the dust. At the moment these enemiesseemed to have infested Benham. Numerically speaking, they wereunimportant, but they had established an irritating, irregular skirmishline, one end of which occupied Wetmore College, another held secretmidnight meetings at Mrs. Hallett Taylor's. Rumors of variousundertakings, educational, semi-political, artistic, or philanthropic, agitated or directed by this fringe of society, came to her ears fromtime to time, but she heard them as an outsider. When she became theGovernor's wife she had said to herself that now these aristocrats wouldbe compelled to admit her to their counsels. But she found, to herannoyance, that the election made no difference. Neither Pauline norMrs. Taylor nor any of the coterie had asked her to join them, and shewas unpleasantly conscious that there were people on the River Drive whoshowed no more desire to make her acquaintance than when she had beenMrs. Lewis Babcock. What did this mean? It meant simply--she began toargue--that she must hold fast to her faith and bide her time. That ifshe and her friends kept a bold front and resisted the encroachments ofthis pernicious spirit, Providence would interfere presently andconfound these enemies of social truth no less obviously than it hadalready overwhelmed Mrs. Gregory Williams. As the wife of the Governor, she was clearly in a position to maintain this bold front effectively. Every mail brought to her requests for her support, and the sanction ofher signature to social or charitable enterprises. Her hospital wasflourishing along the lines of the policy which she had indicated, andwas feeling the advantage of her political prosperity. She was able togive the petition in behalf of Mrs. Hamilton, which contained nowtwenty-five thousand signatures, fresh value and solemnity by means ofan autograph letter from the Governor's wife, countersigned by theGovernor. This, with the bulky list of petitioners, she addressed anddespatched directly to Queen Victoria. Her presence was in constantdemand at all sorts of functions, at many of which she had theopportunity to make a few remarks; to express the welcome of the State, or to utter words of sympathy and encouragement to those assembled. Inthe second month of her husband's administration, she had thesatisfaction of greeting, in her double capacity as newly-electedPresident of the Benham Institute and wife of the Governor, theFederation of Women's Clubs of the United States, on the occasion of itsannual meeting at Benham. This federation was the incorporated fruit ofthe Congress of Women's Clubs, which Selma had attended as a delegatejust previous to her divorce from Babcock, and she could not refrainfrom some exultation at the progress she had made since then as she satwielding the gavel over the body of women delegates from every State inthe Union. The meeting lasted three days. Literary exercises alternatedwith excursions to points of interest in the neighborhood, at all ofwhich she was in authority, and the celebration was brought to abrilliant close by a banquet, to which men were invited. At this Selmaacted as toastmaster, introducing the speakers of the occasion, whichincluded her own husband. Lyons made a graceful allusion to herstimulating influence as a helpmate and her executive capacity, whichelicited loud applause. Succeeding this meeting of the Federation ofWomen's Clubs came a series of semi-public festivities under thepatronage of women--philanthropic, literary or social in character--forthe fever to perpetuate in club form every congregation, of free-borncitizens, except on election day, had seized Benham in common with theother cities of the country in its grasp, to each of which theGovernor's wife was invited as the principal guest of honor. Selma thusfound a dozen opportunities to exhibit herself to a large audience andtestify to her faith in democratic institutions. 

On the 22d of February, Washington's birthday, she held a reception attheir house on River Drive, for which cards had been issued a fortnightprevious. She pathetically explained to the reporters that, had thedimensions and resources of her establishment permitted, she and theGovernor would simply have announced themselves at home to the communityat large; that they would have preferred this, but of course it wouldnever do. The people would not be pleased to see a rabble confound thehospitality of the chief magistrate and his wife. The people demandedproper dignity from their representatives in office. The list ofinvitations which Selma sent out was, however, comprehensive. She aimedto invite everyone of social, public, commercial or politicalimportance. A full band was in attendance, and a liberal collation wasserved. Selma confided to some of her guests, who, she thought, mightcriticise the absence of wine, that she had felt obliged, out ofconsideration for her husband's political prospects, to avoid woundingthe feelings of total abstainers. The entertainment lasted from four toseven, and the three hours of hand-shaking provided a deliciousexperience to the hostess. She gloried in the consciousness that thiscrush of citizens, representing the leaders of the community in thewidest sense, had been assembled by her social gift, and that they hadcome to offer their admiring homage to the clever wife of theirGovernor. It gratified her to think that Pauline and Mrs. Taylor and thepeople of that class, to all of whom she had sent cards, should beholdher as the first lady of the State, and mistress of a beautiful home, dispensing hospitality on broad, democratic lines to an admiringconstituency. When Mr. Horace Elton approached, Selma perpetrated alittle device which she had planned. As they were in the act of shakinghands a very handsome rose fell--seemingly by chance--from the bouquetwhich she carried. He picked it up and tendered it to her, but Selmamade him keep it, adding in a lower tone, "It is your due for thegallant friendship you have shown me and my husband. " She felt as thoughshe were a queen bestowing a guerdon on a favorite minister, and yet awoman rewarding in a woman's way an admirer's devotion. She meant Eltonto appreciate that she understood that his interest in Lyons was largelydue to his partiality for her. It seemed to her that she could recognizeto this extent his chivalrous conduct without smirching her blamelessrecord as an American housewife. 

Meantime the Governor was performing his public duties with becomingdignity and without much mental friction. The legislature was engaged indigesting the batch of miscellaneous business presented for itsconsideration, among which was Elton's gas consolidation bill. Alreadythe measure had encountered some opposition in committee, but Lyons wasled to believe that the bill would be passed by a large majority, andthat its opponents would be conciliated before his signature wasrequired. Lyons's reputation as an orator had been extended by his termin the House of Representatives and his recent active campaign, and hewas in receipt of a number of invitations from various parts of thecountry to address august bodies in other States. All of these weredeclined, but when, in the month of April, opportunity was afforded himto deliver a speech on patriotic issues on the anniversary of the battleof Lexington, he decided, with Selma's approval, to accept theinvitation. He reasoned that a short respite from the cares of officewould be agreeable; she was attracted by the glamour of revisiting NewYork as a woman of note. New York had refused to recognize hersuperiority and to do her homage, and New York should realize herpresent status, and what a mistake had been made. The speech was asuccess, and the programme provided for the entertainment of the oratorand his wife included the hospitality of several private houses. Selmafelt that she could afford to hold her head high and not to thaw tooreadily for the benefit of a society which had failed to appreciate herworth when it had the chance. She was the wife now of one of the leadingpublic men of the nation, and in a position to set fashions, not to askfavors. Nevertheless she chose on the evening before their return toBenham to show herself at dinner at Delmonico's, just to let the worldof so-called fashion perceive her and ask who she was. There woulddoubtless be people there who knew her by sight, and who, when they weretold that she was now the wife of Governor Lyons, would regret if not beashamed of their short-sightedness and snobbery. She wore a strikingdress; she encouraged her husband's willingness to order an elaboratedinner, including champagne (for they were in a champagne country), andshe exhibited a sprightly mood, looking about her with a knowing air inobservation of the other occupants of the dining-room. 

While she was thus engaged the entrance of a party of six, whom the headwaiter conducted with a show of attention to a table which had evidentlybeen reserved for them, fettered Selma's attention. She stared unable tobelieve her eyes, then flushed and looked indignant. Her attentionremained rivetted on this party while they laid aside their wraps andseated themselves. Struck by the annoyed intensity of his wife'sexpression, Lyons turned to follow the direction of her gaze. 

"What is the matter?" he said. 

For a few moments Selma sat silent with compressed lips, intent on herscrutiny. 

"It's an outrage on decency, " she murmured, at last. "How dare she showherself here and entertain those people?"

"Of whom are you talking, Selma?"

"The Williamses. Flossy Williams and her husband. The two couples withthem live on Fifth Avenue, and used to be among her exclusive friends. Her husband has just ordered the dinner. I saw him give the directionsto the waiter. It is monstrous that they, who only a few months agofailed disgracefully and were supposed to have lost everything, shouldbe going on exactly as if nothing had happened. "

"People in New York have the faculty of getting on their feet againquickly after financial reverses, " said Lyons, mildly. "Like as not someof Williams's friends have enabled him to make a fresh start. "

"So it seems, " Selma answered, sternly. She sat back in her chair with adiscouraged air and neglected her truffled chicken. "It isn't right; itisn't decent. "

Lyons was puzzled by her demeanor. "Why should you care what they do?"he asked. "We can easily avoid them for the future. "

"Because--because, James Lyons, I can't bear to see godless peopletriumph. Because it offends me to see a man and woman, who arepractically penniless through their own evil courses, and should bediscredited everywhere, able to resume their life of vanity andextravagance without protest. "

While she was speaking Selma suddenly became aware that her eyes had metthose of Dr. George Page, who was passing their table on his way out. Recognition on both sides came at the same moment, and Selma turned inher chair to greet him, cutting off any hope which he may have had ofpassing unobserved. She was glad of the opportunity to show the companythat she was on familiar terms with a man so well known, and she had onher tongue what she regarded as a piece of banter quite in keeping withhis usual vein. 

"How d'y do, Dr. Page? We haven't met for a long time. You do not knowmy husband, Governor Lyons, I think. Dr. Page used to be our familyphysician when I lived in New York, James. Everyone here knows that hehas a very large practice. "

Selma was disposed to be gracious and sprightly, for she felt that Dr. Page must surely be impressed by her appearance of prosperity. 

"I had heard of your marriage, and of your husband's election. Icongratulate you. You are living in Benham, I believe, far from thishurly-burly?"

"Yes, a little bird told me the other day that a no less distinguishedperson than Dr. Page had been seen in Benham twice during the last threemonths. Of course a Governor's wife is supposed to know everything whichgoes on, and for certain reasons I was very much interested to hear thisbit of news. I am a very discreet woman, doctor. It shall go nofurther. "

The physician's broad brow contracted slightly, but his habitualself-control concealed completely the inclination to strangle hisbright-eyed, over-dressed inquisitor. He was the last man to shirk thevicissitudes of playful speech, and he preferred this mood of Selma's toher solemn style, although his privacy was invaded. 

"I should have remembered, " he said, "that there is nothing in the worldwhich Mrs. Lyons does not know by intuition. "

"Including the management of a hospital, Dr. Page. Perhaps you don'tknow that I am the managing trustee of a large hospital?"

"Yes, I was informed of that in Benham. I should scarcely venture totell you what my little bird said. It was an old fogy of a bird, with apartiality for thorough investigation and scientific methods, and athorough distrust of the results of off-hand inspiration in thetreatment of disease. "

"I dare say. But we are succeeding splendidly. The next time you come toBenham you must come to see me, and I will take you over our hospital. Idon't despair yet of converting you to our side, just as you evidentlydon't despair of inducing a certain lady some day to change her mind. I, for one, think that she is more fitted by nature to be a wife than acollege president, so I shall await with interest more news from mylittle bird. " Selma felt that she was talking to greater advantage thanalmost ever before. Her last remark banished every trace of a smile fromher adversary's face, and he stood regarding her with a preternaturalgravity, which should have been appalling, but which she welcomed as asign of serious feeling on his part. She felt, too, that at last she hadgot the better of the ironical doctor in repartee, and that he wastaking his leave tongue-tied. In truth, he was so angry that he did nottrust himself to speak. He simply glared and departed. 

"Poor fellow, " she said, by way of explanation to Lyons, "I suppose hisemotion got the better of him, because he has loved her so long. Thatwas the Dr. Page who has been crazy for years to marry PaulineLittleton. When he was young he married a woman of doubtful character, who ran away from him. I used to think that Pauline was right inrefusing to sacrifice her life for his sake. But he has been veryconstant, and I doubt if she has originality enough to keep her positionas president of Wetmore long. He belongs to the old school of medicine. It was he who took care of Wilbur when he died. I fancy that case mayhave taught him not to mistrust truth merely because it isn't labelled. But I bear him no malice, because I know he meant to do his best. Theyare just suited for each other, and I shall be on his side after this. "

The interest of this episode served to restore somewhat Selma'sserenity, but she kept her attention fixed on the table where theWilliamses were sitting, observing with a sense of injury their gaybehavior. To all appearances, Flossy was as light-hearted and volatileas ever. Her attire was in the height of fashion. Had adversity taughther nothing? Had the buffet of Providence failed utterly to sober herfrivolous spirit? It seemed to Selma that there could be no otherconclusion, and though she and Lyons had finished dinner, she was unableto take her eyes off the culprits, or to cease to wonder how it waspossible for people with nothing to continue to live as though they hadeverything. Her moral nature was stirred to resentment, and she satspell-bound, seeking in vain for a point of consolation. 

Meantime Lyons, like a good American, had sent for an evening paper, andwas deep in its perusal. A startled ejaculation from him aroused Selmafrom her nightmare. Her husband was saying to her across the table:

"My dear, Senator Calkins is dead. " He spoke in a solemn, excitedwhisper. 

"Our Senator Calkins?"

"Yes. This is the despatch from Washington: 'United States SenatorCalkins dropped dead suddenly in the lobby of the Senate chamber, at teno'clock this morning, while talking with friends. His age was 52. Thecause of his death was heart-failure. His decease has cast a gloom overthe Capital, and the Senate adjourned promptly out of respect to thememory of the departed statesman. '"

"What a dreadful thing!" Selma murmured. 

"The ways of Providence are inscrutable, " said Lyons. "No one could haveforeseen this public calamity. " He poured out a glass of ice-water anddrank it feverishly. 

"It's fortunate we have everything arranged to return to-morrow, for ofcourse you will be needed at home. "

"Yes. Waiter, bring me a telegram. "

"What are you going to do?"

"Communicate to Mrs. Calkins our sympathy on account of the death of herdistinguished husband. "

"That will be nice, " said Selma. She sat for some moments in silenceobserving her husband, and spell-bound by the splendid possibility whichpresented itself. She knew that Lyons's gravity and agitation were notwholly due to the shock of the catastrophe. He, like herself, must beconscious that he might become the dead Senator's successor. He pouredout and drained another goblet of ice-water. Twice he drew himself upslightly and looked around the room, with the expression habitual to himwhen about to deliver a public address. Selma's veins were tingling withexcitement. Providence had interfered in her behalf again. As the wifeof a United States Senator, everything would be within her grasp. 

"James, " she said, "we are the last persons in the world to fail inrespect to the illustrious dead, but--of course you ought to haveSenator Calkins's place. "

Lyons looked at his wife, and his large lips trembled. "If the people ofmy State, Selma, feel that I am the most suitable man for the vacantsenatorship, I shall be proud to serve them. "

Selma nodded appreciatively. She was glad that her husband shouldapproach the situation with a solemn sense of responsibility. 

"They are sure to feel that, " she said. "It seems to me that you arepractically certain of the party nomination, and your party has a clearmajority of both branches of the Legislature. "

Lyons glanced furtively about him before he spoke. "I don't see at themoment, Selma, how they can defeat me. "

CHAPTER X. 

The body of Senator Calkins was laid to rest with appropriate ceremoniesin the soil of his native State, and his virtues as a statesman andcitizen were celebrated in the pulpit and in the public prints. On theday following the funeral the contest for his place began in deadearnest. There had been some quiet canvassing by the several candidateswhile the remains were being transported from Washington, but publicutterance was stayed until the last rites were over. Then it transpiredthat there were four candidates in the field; a Congressman, anex-Governor, a silver-tongued orator named Stringer, who was a member ofthe upper branch of the State Legislature and who claimed to be a truedefender of popular rights, and Hon. James O. Lyons. Newspaper commentconcerning the candidacy of these aspirants early promulgated thedoctrine that Governor Lyons was entitled to the place if he desired it. More than one party organ claimed that his brilliant services had givenhim a reputation beyond the limit of mere political prestige, and thathe had become a veritable favorite son of the State. By the end of afortnight the ex-Governor had withdrawn in favor of Lyons; while thefollowing of the Congressman was recognized to be inconsiderable, andthat he was holding out in order to obtain terms. Only thesilver-tongued orator, Stringer, remained. On him the opposition withinthe party had decided to unite their forces. To all appearances theywere in a decided minority. There was no hope that the Republicanmembers of the Legislature would join them, for it seemed scarcely goodpolitics to rally to the support of a citizen whose statesmanship hadnot been tested in preference to the Governor of the State. It wasconceded by all but the immediate followers of Stringer that Lyons wouldreceive the majority vote of either house, and be triumphantly electedon the first joint ballot. 

And yet the opposition to the Governor, though numerically small, wasgenuine. Stringer was, as he described himself, a man of the plainpeople. That is he was a lawyer with a denunciating voice, a keen mind, and a comprehensive grasp on language, who was still an attorney forplaintiffs, and whose ability had not yet been recognized bycorporations or conservative souls. He was where Lyons had been tenyears before, but he had neither the urbanity, conciliatory tendencies, nor dignified, solid physical properties of the Governor. He was pleasedto refer to himself as a tribune of the people, and his thin, nervousfigure, clad in a long frock-coat, with a yawning collar and black whisptie, his fiery utterance and relentless zeal, bore out the character. Helooked hungry, and his words suggested that he was in earnest, carryingconviction to some of his colleagues in the Legislature. The election atwhich Lyons had been chosen chief magistrate had brought into this Stategovernment a sprinkling of socialistic spirits, as they were called, whoapplauded vigorously the thinly veiled allusions which Stringer made indebate to the lukewarm democracy of some of the party leaders. When hespoke with stern contempt of those who played fast and loose with sacredprinciples--who were staunch friends of the humblest citizens on thepublic platform, and behind their backs grew slyly rich on the revenuesof wealthy corporations, everyone knew that he was baiting the Governor. These diatribes were stigmatized as in wretched taste, but thepoliticians of both parties could not help being amused. They admittedbehind their hands that the taunt was not altogether groundless, andthat Lyons certainly was on extremely pleasant terms with prosperity foran out and out champion of popular rights. Nevertheless the leadingparty newspapers termed Stringer a demagogue, and accused him ofendeavoring to foment discord in the ranks of the Democracy byquestioning the loyalty of a man who had led them to notable victorytwice in the last three years. He was invited to step down, and toseason his aspirations until he could present a more significant publicrecord. What had he done that entitled him to the senatorship? He hadgifts undeniably, but he was young and could wait. This was a takingargument with the legislators, many of whom had grown gray in the partyservice, and Lyons's managers felt confident that the support accordedto this tribune of the people would dwindle to very small proportionswhen the time came to count noses. 

Suddenly there loomed into sight on the political horizon, and camebearing down on Lyons under full sail, Elton's bill for theconsolidation of the gas companies. The Benham _Sentinel_ had not beenone of the promoters of Lyons's senatorial canvass, but it had notespoused the cause of any of his competitors, and latterly had referredin acquiescent terms to his election as a foregone conclusion. He hadnot happened to run across Elton during these intervening weeks, andpreferred not to encounter him. He cherished an ostrich-like hope thatElton was in no haste regarding the bill, and that consequently it mightnot pass the legislature until after his election as Senator. If he wereto come in contact with Elton, the meeting might jog the busy magnate'smemory. It was a barren hope. Immediately after the _Sentinel_ announcedthat Governor Lyons was practically sure to be the next United StatesSenator, the gas bill was reported favorably by the committee which hadit in charge, and was advanced rapidly in the House. Debate on itsprovisions developed that it was not to have entirely plain sailing, though the majority recorded in its favor on the first and secondreadings was large. It was not at first regarded as a party measure. Itssupporters included most of the Republicans and more than half of theDemocrats. Yet the opposition to it proceeded from the wing of theDemocracy with which Stringer was affiliated. Elton's interest in thebill was well understood, and the work of pledging members in advance, irrespective of party, had been so thoroughly done, that but for theexigencies of the senatorial contest it would probably have slippedthrough without notice as a harmless measure. As it was, the oppositionto it in the lower branch was brief and seemed unimportant. The billpassed the House of Representatives by a nearly two-thirds vote and wentpromptly to the Senate calendar. Then suddenly it became obvious toLyons not merely that Elton was bent on securing its passage while thepresent Governor was in office, but that his rival, Stringer, hadconceived the cruel scheme of putting him in the position, by a hue andcry against monopoly and corporate interests, where his election to thesenatorship would be imperilled if he did not veto the measure. By acaustic speech in the Senate Stringer drew public attention to theskilfully concealed iniquities of the proposed franchise, and publicattention thus aroused began to bristle. Newspapers here and therethroughout the state put forth edicts that this Legislature had beenchosen to protect popular principles, and that here was an opportunityfor the Democratic party to fulfil its pledges and serve the people. Stringer and his associates were uttering in the Senate burning wordsagainst the audacious menace of what they termed the franchise octopus. Did the people realize that this bill to combine gas companies, whichlooked so innocent on its face, was a gigantic scheme to wheedle themout of a valuable franchise for nothing? Did they understand that theywere deliberately putting their necks in the grip of a monster whosetentacles would squeeze and suck their life-blood for its ownenrichment? Stringer hammered away with fierce and reiterated invective. He had no hope of defeating the bill, but he confidently believed thathe was putting his adversary, the Governor, in a hole. It had beennoised about the lobbies by the friends of the measure earlier in thesession that the Governor was all right and could be counted on. Stringer reasoned that Lyons was committed to the bill; that, if hesigned it, his opponents might prevent his election as Senator on theplea that he had catered to corporate interests; that if he vetoed it, he would lose the support of powerful friends who might seek to revengethemselves by uniting on his opponent. Stringer recognized that he wasplaying a desperate game, but it was his only chance. One thing wasevident already: As a result of the exposure in the Senate, considerablepublic hostility to the bill was manifesting itself. Petitions for itsdefeat were in circulation, and several Senators who had been supposedto be friendly to its passage veered round in deference to the views oftheir constituents. Its defeat had almost become a party measure. Amajority of the Democrats in the Senate were claimed to be against it. Nevertheless there was no delay on the part of those in charge inpushing it to final action. They had counted noses, and their margin ofsupport had been so liberal they could afford to lose a few deserters. After a fierce debate the bill was passed to be engrossed by a majorityof eleven. The Democrats in the Senate were just evenly divided on theballot. 

What would the Governor do? This was the question on everyone's lips. Would he sign or veto the bill? Public opinion as represented by thenewspapers was prompt to point out his duty. The verdict of a leadingparty organ was that, in view of all the circumstances, Governor Lyonscould scarcely do otherwise than refuse to give his official sanction toa measure which threatened to increase the burdens of the plain people. The words "in view of all the circumstances" appeared to be an euphemismfor "in view of his ambition to become United States Senator. " Severaljournals declared unequivocally that it would become the duty of theparty to withdraw its support from Governor Lyons in case he allowedthis undemocratic measure to become law. On the other hand, certainparty organs questioned the justice of the outcry against the bill, arguing that the merits of the case had been carefully examined in theLegislature and that there was no occasion for the Governor to disturbthe result of its action. On the day after the bill was sent to thechief magistrate, an editorial appeared in the Benham _Sentinel_presenting an exhaustive analysis of its provisions, and pointing outthat, though the petitioners might under certain contingencies reap areasonable profit, the public could not fail in that event to secure alower price for gas and more effective service. This article was quotedextensively throughout the State, and was ridiculed or extolledaccording to the sympathies of the critics. Lyons received a marked copyof the _Sentinel_ on the morning when it appeared. He recognized theargument as that which he had accepted at the time he promised to signthe bill if he were elected Governor. In the course of the same day aletter sent by messenger was handed to him in the executive chamber. Itcontained simply two lines in pencil in Elton's handwriting--"Itcontinues to be of vital importance to my affairs that the pending billshould receive your signature. " That was obviously a polite reminder oftheir agreement; an intimation that the circumstances had not altered, and that it was incumbent on him to perform his part of their compact. Obviously, too, Horace Elton took for granted that a reminder wasenough, and that he would keep his word. He had promised to sign thebill. He had given his word of honor to do so, and Elton was relying onhis good faith. 

The situation had become suddenly oppressive and disheartening. Justwhen his prospects seemed assured this unfortunate obstacle had appearedin his path, and threatened to confound his political career. He mustsign the bill. And if he signed it, in all probability he would lose thesenatorship. His enemies would claim that the party could not afford tostultify itself by the choice of a candidate who favored monopolies. Hehad given his promise, the word of a man of honor, and a business man. What escape was there from the predicament? If he vetoed the bill, wouldhe not be a liar and a poltroon? If he signed it, the senatorship wouldslip through his fingers. The thought occurred to him to send for Eltonand throw himself on his mercy, but he shrank from such an interview. Elton was a business man, and a promise was a promise. He had enjoyedthe consideration for his promise; his notes were secure and thehypothecated bonds had been redeemed. He was on his feet and Governor, thanks to Elton's interposition, and now he was called on to do hispart--to pay the fiddler. He must sign the bill. 

Lyons had five days in which to consider the matter. At the end of thattime if he neither signed nor vetoed the bill, it would become lawwithout his signature. He was at bay, and the time for deliberation wasshort. An incubus of disappointment weighed upon his soul and cloudedhis brow. His round, smooth face looked grieved. It seemed cruel to himthat such an untoward piece of fortune should confront him just at themoment when this great reward for his political services was within hisgrasp and his opportunities for eminent public usefulness assured. Hebrooded over his quandary in silence for twenty-four hours. On thesecond day he concluded to speak of the matter to Selma. He knew thatshe kept a general run of public affairs. Not infrequently she had askedhim questions concerning measures before the Legislature, and he waspleasantly aware that she was ambitious to be regarded as a politician. But up to this time there had been no room for question as to what hisaction as Governor should be in respect to any measure. It had happened, despite his attitude of mental comradeship with his wife, that he hadhitherto concealed from her his most secret transactions. He had lefther in the dark in regard to his true dealings with Williams & VanHorne; he had told her nothing as to his straitened circumstances, thecompact by which he had been made Governor, and his relief at the handsof Elton from threatened financial ruin. Reluctance, born of the theoryin his soul that these were accidents in his life, not typicalhappenings, had sealed his lips. He was going to confide in her now notbecause he expected that Selma's view of this emergency would differfrom his own, but in order that she might learn before he acted that hewas under an imperative obligation to sign the bill. While he wassitting at home in the evening with the topic trembling on his tongue, Selma made his confession easy by saying, "I have taken for granted thatyou will veto the gas bill. "

Selma had indeed so assumed. In the early stages of the bill she hadbeen ignorant of its existence. During the last fortnight, since thecontroversy had reached an acute phase and public sentiment had beenaroused against its passage, she had been hoping that it would pass sothat Lyons might have the glory of returning it to the Legislaturewithout his signature. She had reasoned that he would be certain to vetothe measure, for the bill was clearly in the interest of monopoly, andthough her nerves were all on edge with excitement over the impendingelection of a Senator, she had not interfered because she took forgranted that it was unnecessary. Even when Lyons, after reading thearticle in the _Sentinel_, had dropped the remark that the measure wasreally harmless and the outcry against it unwarranted, she had supposedthat he was merely seeking to be magnanimous. She had forgotten thisspeech until it was recalled by Lyons's obvious state of worry duringthe last few days. She had noticed this at first without specialconcern, believing it due to the malicious insinuations of Stringer. Nowthat the bill was before him for signature there could be no question asto his action. Nevertheless her heart had suddenly been assailed by ahorrible doubt, and straightway her sense of duty as a wife and of dutyto herself had sought assurance in a crucial inquiry. 

"I was going to speak to you about that this evening. I wish to tell youthe reasons which oblige me to sign the bill, " he answered. Lyons'smanner was subdued and limp. Even his phraseology had been stripped ofits stateliness. 

"Sign the bill?" gasped Selma. "If you sign it, you will lose thesenatorship. " She spoke like a prophetess, and her steely eyes snapped. 

"That is liable to be the consequence I know. I will explain to you, Selma. You will see that I am bound in honor and cannot help myself. "

"In honor? You are bound in honor to your party--bound in honor to me toveto it. "

"Wait a minute, Selma. You must hear my reasons. Before I was nominatedfor Governor I gave Horace Elton my word, man to man, that I would signthis gas bill. It is his bill. I promised, if I were elected Governor, not to veto it. At the time, I--I was financially embarrassed. I did nottell you because I was unwilling to distress you, but--er--my affairs inNew York were in disorder, and I had notes here coming due. Nothing wassaid about money matters between Elton and me until he had agreed tosupport me as Governor. Then he offered to help me, and I accepted hisaid. Don't you see that I cannot help myself? That I must sign thebill?"

Selma had listened in amazement. "It's a trap, " she murmured. "HoraceElton has led you into a trap. " The thought that Elton's politeness toher was a blind, and that she had been made sport of, took precedence inher resentment even of the annoyance caused her by her husband's deceit. 

"Why did you conceal all this from me?" she asked, tragically. 

"I should not have done so, perhaps. "

"If you had told me, this difficulty never would have arisen. Pshaw! Itis not a real difficulty. Surely you must throw Elton over. Surely youmust veto the bill. "

"Throw him over, " stammered Lyons. "You don't understand, Selma. I gavemy word as a business man. I am under great obligations to him. " He toldbriefly the details of the transaction; even the hypothecation of theParsons bonds. For once in his life he made a clean breast of hisbosom's perilous stuff. He was ready to bear the consequences of hisplight rather than be false to his man's standard of honor, and yet hiswife's opposition had fascinated as well as startled him. He set forthhis case--the case which meant his political checkmate, then waited. Selma had risen and stood with folded arms gazing into distance with thefar away look by which she was wont to subdue mountains. 

"Have you finished?" she asked. "What you are proposing to do is tosacrifice your life--and my life, James Lyons, for the sake ofa--er--fetish. Horace Elton, under the pretence of friendship for us, has taken advantage of your necessities to extract from you a promise tosupport an evil scheme--a bill to defraud the plain American people oftheir rights--the people whose interests you swore to protect when youtook the oath as Governor. Is a promise between man and man, as you callit, more sacred than everlasting truth itself? More binding than the tieof principle and political good faith? Will you refuse to veto a billwhich you know is a blow at liberty in order to keep a technicalbusiness compact with an over-reaching capitalist, who has no sympathywith our ideas? I am disappointed in you, James. I thought you could seeclearer than that. "

Lyons sighed. "I examined the bill at the time with some care, and didnot think it inimical to the best public interest; but had I foreseenthe objections which would be raised against it, I admit that I neverwould have agreed to sign it. "

"Precisely. You were taken in. " She meant in her heart that they hadboth been taken in. "This is not a case of commercial give and take--ofpurchase and sale of stocks or merchandise. The eternal verities areconcerned. You owe it to your country to break your word. The triumph ofAmerican principles is paramount to your obligation to Elton. Whom willthis gas bill benefit but the promoters? Your view, James, is theold-fashioned view. Just as I said to you the other day that Dr. Page isold-fashioned in his views of medicine, so it seems to me, if you willforgive my saying so, you are, in this instance, behind the times. Andyou are not usually behind the times. It has been one of the joyousfeatures of my marriage with you that you have not lacked Americaninitiative and independence of conventions. I wish you had confided inme. You were forced to give that promise by your financial distress. Will you let an old-fashioned theory of private honor make you a traitorto our party cause and to the sovereign people of our country?"

Lyons bowed his head between his hands. "You make me see that there aretwo sides to the question, Selma. It is true that I was not myself whenElton got my promise to sign the bill. My mind had been on the rack forweeks, and I was unfit to form a correct estimate of a complicatedpublic measure. But a promise is a promise. "

"What can he do if you break it? He will not kill you. "

"He will not kill me, no; but he will despise me. " Lyons reflected, ashe spoke, that Elton would be unable to injure him financially. Hewould, be able to pay his notes when they became due, thanks to theimprovement in business affairs which had set in since the beginning ofthe year. 

"And your party--the American people will despise you if you sign thebill. Whose contempt do you fear the most?"

"I see--I see, " he murmured. "I cannot deny there is much force in yourargument, dear. I fear there can be no doubt that if I let the billbecome law, public clamor will oblige the party to throw me over andtake up Stringer or some dark horse. That means a serious setback to mypolitical progress; means perhaps my political ruin. "

"Your political suicide, James. And there is another side to it, "continued Selma, pathetically. "My side. I wish you to think of that. Iwish you to realize that, if you yield to this false notion of honor, you will interfere with the development of my life no less than yourown. As you know, I think, I became your wife because I felt that as apublic woman working, at your side in behalf of the high purposes inwhich we had a common sympathy, I should be a greater power for goodthan if I pursued alone my career as a writer and on the lectureplatform. Until to-day I have felt sure that I had made no mistake--thatwe had made no mistake. Without disrespect to the dead, I may say thatfor the first time in my life marriage has meant to me what it shouldmean, and has tended to bring out the best which is in me. I have grown;I have developed; I have been recognized. We have both made progress. Only a few days ago I was rejoicing to think that when you became aUnited States Senator, there would be a noble field for my abilities aswell as yours. We are called to high office, called to battle for greatprinciples and to lead the nation to worthy things. And now, in a momentof mental blindness, you are threatening to spoil all. For my sake, ifnot for your own, James, be convinced that you do not see clearly. Donot snatch the cup of happiness from my lips just as at last it is full. Give me the chance to live my own life as I wish to live it. "

There was a brief silence. Lyons rose and let fall his hand on the tablewith impressive emphasis. His mobile face was working with emotion; hiseyes were filled with tears. "I will veto the bill, " he said, grandiloquently. "The claims of private honor must give way to thegeneral welfare, and the demands of civilization. You have convinced me, Selma--my wife. My point of view was old-fashioned. Superior ethicspermit no other solution of the problem. Superior ethics, " he repeated, as though the phrase gave him comfort, "would not justify a statesman insacrificing his party and his own powers--aye, and his politicalconscience--in order to keep a private compact. I shall veto the bill. "

"Thank God for that, " she murmured. 

Lyons stepped forward and put his arm around her. "You shall live yourown life as you desire, Selma. No act of mine shall spoil it. "

"Superior ethics taught you by your wife! Your poor, wise wife in whomyou would not confide!" She tapped him playfully on his fat cheek. "Naughty boy!"

"There are moments when a man sees through a glass, darkly, " heanswered, kissing her again. "This is a solemn decision for us, Selma. Heaven has willed that you should save me from my own errors, and my ownblindness. "

"We shall be very happy, James. You will be chosen Senator, and all willbe as it should be. The clouds on my horizon are one by one passingaway, and justice is prevailing at last. What do you suppose I heardto-day? Pauline Littleton is to marry Dr. Page. Mrs. Earle told me so. Pauline has written to the trustees that after the first of next Januaryshe will cease to serve as president of Wetmore; that by that time thecollege will be running smoothly, so that a successor can take up thework. There is a chance now that the trustees will choose a genuineeducator for the place--some woman of spontaneous impulses and a largeoutlook on life. Pauline's place is by the domestic hearth. She couldnever have much influence on progress. "

"I do not know her very well, " said Lyons. "But I know this, Selma, youwould be just the woman for the place if you were not my wife. You wouldmake an ideal president of a college for progressive women. "

"I am suited for the work, and I think I am progressive, " she admitted. "But that, of course, is out of the question for me as a married womanand the wife of a United States Senator. But I am glad, James, to haveyou appreciate my strong points. "

On the following day Lyons vetoed the gas bill. His message to theLegislature described it as a measure which disposed of a valuablefranchise for nothing, and which would create a monopoly detrimental tothe rights of the public. This action met with much public approval. Onenewspaper expressed well the feeling of the community by declaring thatthe Governor had faced the issue squarely and shown the courage of hiswell-known convictions. The Benham _Sentinel_ was practically mute. Itstated merely in a short editorial that it was disappointed in GovernorLyons, and that he had played into the hands of the demagogues and thesentimentalists. It suggested to the Legislature to show commendableindependence by passing the bill over his veto. But this was obviously avain hope. 

The vote in the House against the veto not merely fell short of therequisite two-thirds, but was less than a plurality, showing that theaction of the chief magistrate had reversed the sentiment of theLegislature. The force of Stringer's opposition was practically killedby the Governor's course. He had staked everything on the chance thatLyons would see fit to sign the bill. When the party caucus for thechoice of a candidate for Senator was held a few days later, hisfollowers recognized the hopelessness of his ambition and prevailed onhim to withdraw his name from consideration. Lyons was elected Senatorof the United States by a party vote by the two branches of theLegislature assembled in solemn conclave. Apparently Elton had realizedthat opposition was useless, and that he must bide his time for revenge. Booming cannon celebrated the result of the proceedings, and Selma, waiting at home on the River Drive, received a telegram from the capitalannouncing the glad news. Her husband was United States Senator, and thefuture stretched before her big with promise. She had battled with life, she had suffered, she had held fast to her principles, and at last shewas rewarded. 

Lyons returned to Benham by the afternoon train, and a salute of onehundred guns greeted him on his arrival. He walked from the station likeany private citizen. Frequent cheers attended his progress to his house. In the evening the shops and public buildings were illuminated, and theJames O. Lyons Cadets, who considered themselves partly responsible forhis rapid promotion, led a congratulatory crowd to the River Drive. TheSenator-elect, in response to the music of a serenade, stepped out onthe balcony. Selma waited behind the window curtain until the enthusiasmhad subsided; then she glided forth and showed herself at his elbow. Afresh round of cheers for the Senator's wife followed. It was a gloriousnight. The moon shone brightly. The street was thronged by the populace, and glittered with the torches of the cadets. Lyons stood bareheaded. His large, round, smooth face glistened, and the moonbeams, bathing hischin beard, gave him the effect of a patriarch, or of one inspired. Heraised his hand to induce silence, then stood for a moment, as was hishabit before speaking, with an expression as though he were strugglingwith emotion or busy in silent prayer. 

"Fellow citizens of Benham, " he began, slowly, "compatriots of thesovereign State which has done me to-day so great an honor, I thank youfor this precious greeting. You are my constituents and my brothers. Iaccept from your hands this great trust of office, knowing that I am butyour representative, knowing that my mission is to bear constant witnessto the love of liberty, the love of progress, the love of truth whichare enshrined in the hearts of the great American people. Your past hasbeen ever glorious; your future looms big with destiny. Still leaning onthe God of our fathers, to whom our patriot sires have ever turned, andwhose favors to our beloved country are seen in your broad prairies tallwith fruitful grain, and your mighty engines of commerce, I take up thework which you have given me to do, pledged to remain a democrat of thedemocrats, an American of the Americans. "

Selma heard the words of this peroration with a sense of ecstasy. Shefelt that he was speaking for them both, and that he was expressing theyearning intention of her soul to attempt and perform great things. Shestood gazing straight before her with her far away, seraph look, asthough she were penetrating the future even into Paradise.