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Unleavened Bread, a novel by Robert Grant |
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Book 3. The Success - Chapter 5 |
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_ BOOK III. THE SUCCESS CHAPTER V Lyons was chosen to Congress by a liberal margin. The Congressional delegation from his State was almost evenly divided between the two parties as the result of the election, and the majorities in every case were small. Consequently the more complete victory of Lyons was a feather in his cap, and materially enhanced his political standing. The sudden death of Mr. Parsons within a week of the election saved Selma's conscience from the strain of arranging a harmonious and equitable separation from him. She had felt that the enlargement of her sphere of life and the opportunity to serve her country which this marriage offered were paramount to any other considerations, but she was duly conscious that Mr. Parsons would miss her sorely, and she was considering the feasibility of substituting Miss Bailey as his companion in her place, when fate supplied a different solution. Selma had pledged her friends to secrecy, so that Mr. Parsons need know nothing until the plans for his happiness had been perfected, and he died in ignorance of the interesting matrimonial alliance which had been fostered under his roof. By the terms of his will Selma was bequeathed the twenty thousand dollars he had promised her. She and Mr. Lyons, with a third person, to be selected by them, were appointed trustees of the Free Hospital with which he had endowed Benham, and Mr. Lyons was nominated as the sole executor under the will. Selma's conception that her third betrothal was coincident with spiritual development, and that she had fought her way through hampering circumstances to a higher plane of experience, had taken firm hold of her imagination. She presently confessed to Lyons that she had not hitherto appreciated the full meaning of the dogma that marriage was a sacrament. She evinced a disposition to show herself with him at church gatherings, and to cultivate the acquaintance of his pastor. She felt that she had finally secured the opportunity to live the sober, simple life appropriate to those who believed in maintaining American principles, and in eschewing luxurious and effete foreign innovations; the sort of life she had always meant to live, and from which she had been debarred. She had now not only opportunity, but a responsibility. As the bride of a Congressman, it behooved her both to pursue virtue for its own sake and for the sake of example. It was incumbent on her to preserve and promote democratic conditions in signal opposition to so-called fashionable society, and at the same time to assert her own proper dignity and the dignity of her constituents by a suitable outward show. This last subtlety of reflection convinced Selma that they ought to occupy the house on the River Drive. Lyons himself expressed some doubts as to the advisability of this. He admitted that he could afford the expense, and that it was just such a residence as he desired, but he suggested that their motives might not be understood, and he questioned whether it were wise, with the State so close, to give his political enemies the chance to make unjust accusations. "Of course you ought to understand about this matter better than I," she said; "but I have the feeling, James, that your constituents will be disappointed if we don't show ourselves appreciative of the dignity of your position. We both agree that we should make Benham our home, and that it will be preferable if I visit Washington a month or two at a time during the session rather than for us to set up housekeeping there, and I can't help believing that the people will be better pleased if you, as their representative, make that home all which a beautiful home should be. They will be proud of it, and if they are, you needn't mind what a few fault-finders say. I have been thinking it over, and it seems to me that we shall make a mistake to let this house go. It just suits us. I feel sure that in their hearts the American people like to have their public men live comfortably. This house is small compared to many in New York, and I flatter myself that we shall be able to satisfy everyone that we are rootedly opposed to unseemly extravagance of living." Lyons yielded readily to this argument. He had been accustomed to simple surroundings, but travel and the growth of Benham itself had demonstrated to him that the ways of the nation in respect to material possessions and comforts had undergone a marked change since his youth. He had been brought in contact with this new development in his capacity of adviser to the magnates of Benham, and he had fallen under the spell of improved creature comforts. Still, though he cast sheep's eyes at these flesh pots, he had felt chary, both as a worker for righteousness and an ardent champion of popular principles, of countenancing them openly. Yet his original impulse toward marriage had been a desire to secure an establishment, and now that this result was at hand he found himself ambitious to put his household on a braver footing, provided this would do injury neither to his moral scruples nor to his political sincerity. The problem was but another phase of that presented to him by his evolution from a jury lawyer, whose hand and voice were against corporations, to the status of a richly paid chamber adviser to railroads and banking houses. He was exactly in the frame of mind to grasp at the euphemism offered by Selma. He was not one to be convinced without a reason, but his mind eagerly welcomed a suggestion which justified on a moral ground the proceeding to which they were both inclined. The idea that the people would prefer to see him as their representative living in a style consistent with the changes in manners and customs introduced by national prosperity, affording thereby an example of correct and elevating stewardship of reasonable wealth, by way of contrast to vapid society doings, came to him as an illumination which dissipated his doubts. The wedding took place about three months after the death of Mr. Parsons. In her renovated outlook regarding matrimony, Selma included formal preparations for and some pomp of circumstances at the ceremony. It suited her pious mood that she was not required again to be married off-hand, and that she could plight her troth in a decorous fashion, suitably attired and amid conventional surroundings. Her dress was a subject of considerable contemplation. She guided her lover's generosity until it centred on a diamond spray for her hair and two rings set with handsome precious stones. She did not discourage Miss Luella Bailey from heralding the approaching nuptials in the press. She became Mrs. Lyons in a conspicuous and solemn fashion before the gaze of everybody in Benham whom there was any excuse for asking to the church. After a collation at the Parsons house, the happy pair started on their honeymoon in a special car put at their service by one of the railroads for which the bridegroom was counsel. This feature delighted Selma. Indeed, everything, from the complimentary embrace of her husband's pastor to the details of her dress and wedding presents, described with elaborate good will in the evening newspapers, appeared to her gratifying and appropriate. They were absent six weeks, during which the Parsons house was to be redecorated and embellished within and without according to instructions given by Selma before her departure. Their trip extended to California by way of the Yosemite. Selma had never seen the wonders of the far western scenery, and this appropriate background for their sentiment also afforded Lyons the opportunity to inspect certain railroad lines in which he was financially interested. The atmosphere of the gorgeous snow-clad peaks and impressive chasms served to heighten still further the intensity of Selma's frame of mind. She managed adroitly on several occasions to let people know who they were, and it pleased her to observe the conductor indicating to passengers in the common cars that they were Congressman Lyons and his wife on their honeymoon. She was looking forward to Washington, and as she stood in the presence of the inspiring beauties of nature she was prone to draw herself up in rehearsal of the dignity which she expected to wear. What were these mountains and canyons but physical counterparts of the human soul? What but correlative representatives of grand ideas, of noble lives devoted to the cause of human liberty? She felt that she was very happy, and she bore testimony to this by walking arm in arm with her husband, leaning against his firm, stalwart shoulder. It seemed to her desirable that the public should know that they were a happy couple and defenders of the purity of the home. On their way back the train was delayed on Washington's birthday for several hours by a wash-out, and presently a deputation made up of passengers and townspeople waited on Lyons and invited him to deliver an open-air address. He and Selma, when the committee arrived, were just about to explore the neighborhood, and Lyons, though ordinarily he would have been glad of such an opportunity, looked at his wife with an expression which suggested that he would prefer a walk with her. The eyes of the committee followed his, appreciating that he had thrown the responsibility of a decision on his bride. Selma was equal to the occasion. "Of course he will address you," she exclaimed. "What more suitable place could there be for offering homage to the father of our country than this majestic prairie?" She added, proudly, "And I am glad you should have the opportunity to hear my husband speak." Some letters requiring attention were forwarded to Lyons at one of the cities where they stopped. As they lay on his dressing-table Selma caught sight of the return address, Williams & Van Horne, printed on the uppermost envelope. The reminder aroused a host of associations. Flossy had not been much in her thoughts lately, yet she had not failed to plume herself occasionally with the reflection that she could afford now to snap her fingers at her. She had wondered more than once what Flossy would think when she heard that she was the wife of a Representative. "Do you know these people personally?" she inquired, holding up the envelope. "Yes. They are my--er--financial representatives in New York. I have considerable dealings with them." Selma had not up to this time concerned herself as to the details of her husband's affairs. He had made clear to her that his income from his profession was large, and she knew that he was interested in a variety of enterprises. That he should have connections with a firm of New York brokers was one more proof to her of his common sense and capacity to take advantage of opportunities. "Mr. Littleton used to buy stocks through Williams and Van Horne--only a few. He was not very clever at it, and failed to make the most of the chances given him to succeed in that way. We knew the Williamses at one time very well. They lived in the same block with us for several years after we were married." "Williams is a capable, driving sort of fellow. Bold, but on the whole sagacious, I think," answered Lyons, with demure urbanity. It was rather a shock to him that his wife should learn that he had dealings in the stock market. He feared lest it might seem to her inconsistent with his other propensities--his religious convictions and his abhorrence of corporate rapacity. He preferred to keep such transactions private for fear they should be misunderstood. At heart he did not altogether approve of them himself. They were a part of his evolution, and had developed by degrees until they had become now so interwoven with his whole financial outlook that he could not escape from them at the moment if he would. Indeed some of them were giving him anxiety. He had supposed that the letter in question contained a request for a remittance to cover depreciation in his account. Instead he had read with some annoyance a confidential request from Williams that he would work for a certain bill which, in his capacity as a foe of monopoly, he had hoped to be able to oppose. It offended his conscience to think that he might be obliged secretly to befriend a measure against which his vote must be cast. As has been intimated, he would have preferred that his business affairs should remain concealed from his wife. Yet her remarks were unexpectedly and agreeably reassuring. They served to furnish a fresh indication on her part of intelligent sympathy with the perplexities which beset the path of an ambitious public man. They suggested a subtle appreciation of the reasonableness of his behavior, notwithstanding its apparent failure to tally with his outward professions. Selma's reply interrupted this rhapsody. "I ought to tell you, I suppose, that I quarrelled with Mrs. Williams before I left New York. Or, rather, she quarrelled with me. She insulted me in my own house, and I was obliged to order her to leave it." "Quarrelled? That is a pity. An open break? Open breaks in friendship are always unfortunate." Lyons looked grieved, and fingered his beard meditatively. "I appreciate," said Selma, frankly, "that our falling out will be an inconvenience in case we should meet in Washington or elsewhere, since you and Mr. Williams have business interests in common. Of course, James, I wish to help you in every way I can. I might as well tell you about it. I think she was jealous of me and fancied I was trying to cut her out socially. At all events, she insinuated that I was not a lady, because I would not lower my standards to hers, and adopt the frivolous habits of her little set. But I have not forgotten, James, your suggestion that people in public life can accomplish more if they avoid showing resentment and strive for harmony. I shall be ready to forget the past if Mrs. Williams will, for my position as your wife puts me beyond the reach of her criticism. She's a lively little thing in her way, and her husband seems to understand about investments and how to get ahead." They went direct to Washington without stopping at Benham. It was understood that the new session of Congress was to be very short, and they were glad of an opportunity to present themselves in an official capacity at the capital as a conclusion to their honeymoon, before settling down at home. Selma found a letter from Miss Bailey, containing the news that Pauline Littleton had accepted the presidency of Wetmore College, the buildings of which were now practically completed. Selma gasped as she read this. She had long ago decided that her sister-in-law's studies were unpractical, and that Pauline was doomed to teach small classes all her days, a task for which she was doubtless well fitted. She resented the selection, for, in her opinion, Pauline lacked the imaginative talent of Wilbur, and yet shared his subjective, unenthusiastic ways. More than once it had occurred to her that the presidency of Wetmore was the place of all others for which she herself was fitted. Indeed, until Lyons had offered himself she had cherished in her inner consciousness the hope that the course of events might demonstrate that she was the proper person to direct the energies of this new medium for the higher education of women. It irritated her to think that an institution founded by Benham philanthropy, and which would be a vital influence in the development of Benham womanhood, should be under the control of one who was hostile to American theories and methods. Selma felt so strongly on the subject that she thought of airing her objections in a letter to Mr. Flagg, the donor, but she concluded to suspend her strictures until her return to Benham. She sent, however, to Miss Bailey, who was now regularly attached to one of the Benham newspapers, notes for an article which should deplore the choice by the trustees of one who was unfamiliar and presumably out of sympathy with Benham thought and impulse. Selma's emotions on her arrival in Washington were very different from those which she had experienced in New York as the bride of Littleton. Then she had been unprepared for, dazed, and offended by what she saw. Now, though she mentally assumed that the capital was the parade ground of American ideas and principles, she felt not merely no surprise at the august appearance of the wide avenues, but she was eagerly on the lookout, as they drove from the station to the hotel, for signs of social development. The aphorism which she had supplied to her husband, that the American people prefer to have their representatives live comfortably, dwelt in her thoughts and was a solace to her. Despite her New York experience, she had the impression that the doors of every house in Washington would fly open at her approach as the wife of a Congressman. She did not formulate her anticipations as to her reception, but she entertained a general expectation that their presence would be acknowledged as public officials in a notable way. She dressed herself on the morning after their arrival at the hotel with some showiness, so as to be prepared for flattering emergencies. She had said little to her husband on the subject, for she had already discovered that, though he was ambitious that they should appear well, he was disposed to leave the management of social concerns to her. His information had been limited to bidding her come prepared for the reception to be given at the White House at the reassembling of Congress. Selma had brought her wedding-dress for this, and was looking forward to it as a gala occasion. The hotel was very crowded, and Selma became aware that many of the guests were the wives and daughters of other Congressmen, who seemed to be in the same predicament as herself--that is, without anyone to speak to and waiting in their best clothes for something to happen. Lyons knew a few of them, and was making acquaintances in the corridors, with some of whom he exchanged an introduction of wives. As she successively met these other women, Selma perceived that no one of them was better dressed than herself, and she reflected with pleasure that they would doubtless be available allies in her crusade against frivolity and exclusiveness. 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 which Selma clutched his arm in the pride of her patriotism and of her pleasure that he was to be one of the makers of history within its splendid 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 the contemplation of their own possible future. What greater earthly prize for man than political distinction among a people capable of monuments like this? What grander arena for a woman eager to demonstrate truth and promote righteousness? There was, of course, too much to see for any one visit. They went up to the gallery of the House of Representatives and looked down on the theatre of Lyons's impending activities. He was to take his seat on the day after the morrow as one of the minority party, but a strong, vigorous minority. Selma pictured him standing in the aisle and uttering ringing words of denunciation against corporate monopolies and the money power. "I shall come up here and listen to you often. I shall be able to tell if 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 eye crowded with spectators. "You must make a long speech very soon." "That is very unlikely indeed. They tell me a new member rarely gets a chance 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 own breast. "I shall take advantage of every opportunity to obtain recognition, 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 portraits of distinguished statesmen and heroes, and the representations of famous episodes in American history with which the walls of the landings and the rotunda are lined. "Some day you will be here," said Selma. "I wonder who will paint you or make your bust. I have often thought," she added, wistfully, "that, if I had given my mind to it, I could have modelled well in clay. Some day I'll try. It would be interesting, wouldn't it, to have you here in marble 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, my dear. I am sure of one thing--if my bust or portrait ever is here, I shall owe my success largely to your devotion and good sense. I felt certain of it before, but our honeymoon has proved to me that we were meant 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 a member of her husband's Congressional delegation had called. She had hoped to find that their presence in Washington was known and appreciated. It seemed to her, moreover, that they were not treated at the 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 of the people would be made much of, and distinguished from the rest of the world, if not by direct attention, by being pointed out and looked at admiringly. Still, as Lyons showed no signs of disappointment, she forbore to express her own perplexity, which was temporarily relieved by an invitation from him to drive. The atmosphere was mild enough for an open carriage, and Selma's appetite for processional effect derived some crumbs of comfort from the process of showing herself in a barouche by the side of her husband. They proceeded in an opposite direction from the Capitol, and after surveying the outside of the White House, drove along the avenues and circles occupied by private residences. Selma noticed that these houses, though attractive, were less magnificent and conspicuous 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 of the country--a society of their wives and daughters living worthily, energetically, and with becoming stateliness, yet at the same time rebuking by their example frivolity and rampant luxury. She observed with satisfaction the passage of a number of private carriages, and that their occupants were stylishly clad. She reflected that, as, the wife of a Congressman, her place was among them, and she was glad that they recognized the claims of social development so far as to dress well and live in comfort. Before starting she had herself fastened a bunch of red roses at her waist as a contribution to her picturesqueness as a public woman. While she was thus absorbed in speculation, not altogether free from worrying suspicions, in spite of her mental vision as to the occupants of these private residences, she uttered an ejaculation of surprise as a jaunty victoria passed by them, and she turned her head in an eager attempt to ascertain if her surprise and annoyance were well-founded. The other vehicle was moving rapidly, but a similar curiosity impelled one of its occupants to look hack also, and the eyes of the two women met. "It's she; I thought it was." "Who, my dear?" said Lyons. "Flossy Williams--Mrs. Gregory Williams. I wonder," she added, in a severe tone, "what she is doing here, and how she happens to be associating with these people. That was a private carriage." "Williams has a number of friends in Washington, I imagine. I thought it likely that he would be here. That was another proof of your good sense, Selma--deciding to let bygones be bygones and to ignore your disagreement 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," she exclaimed, with tragic emphasis. "I don't understand about social matters, Selma. I must leave those to you. But," he added, showing that he shrewdly realized the cause of her anguish better than she did herself, "as soon as we get better acquainted, I'm sure you will find that we shall get ahead, and that you will be able to hold your own with anybody, however exclusive." Selma colored at the unflattering simplicity of his deduction. "I don't desire 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 force of sound ideas and principles. The men and women of to-day," he continued, with melodious asseveration, "are the grand-children of those who built the splendid halls we visited this morning as a monument to our nation's love of truth and righteousness. A few frivolous, worldly minded spirits are not the people of the United States to whom we look for 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 to aid 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 several hundred. What did you expect? That the President and his wife would come and take us to drive?" "Of course not." She paused a moment, then she said: "I suppose that, as you are not on the side of the administration, we cannot expect much notice to be taken of us until you speak in the House. I will try not to be 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 fear that this city also may be contaminated just as New York is." _ |
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