III

The Montgomerys had come to Washington for the first time at the

beginning of the previous winter, while the Madisons were in England.

Lady Mary had left her note of introduction the day before Betty's

declaration of independence.

Betty was anxious to meet the young Englishwoman, not only because she

possessed the charmed key to political society, but her history as

related by certain gossips of authority commanded interest.

Randolph Montgomery, a young Californian millionaire, had followed his

mother's former ward, Lady Maundrell, to England, nursing an old and

hopeless passion. What passed between him and the beautiful young

countess the gossips did not attempt to state, but he left England two

days after the tragedy which shelved Cecil Maundrell into the House of

Lords, and returned to California accompanied by his mother and Lady

Barnstaple's friend, Lady Mary Montgomery. Bets were exchanged freely

as to the result of this bold move on the part of a girl too fastidious

to marry any of the English parvenus that addressed her, too poor to

marry in her own class. The wedding took place a few months later,

immediately after Mrs. Montgomery's death; an event which left Lady

Mary the guest in a foreign country of a young bachelor.

From all accounts, the marriage, although a wide deflection from the

highest canons of romance, was a successful one, and the Montgomerys

were living in splendid state in Washington. Lady Mary was approved by

even the "Old Washingtonians"--a thoughtful Californian of lineage had

given her a letter to Miss Carter, who in turn had given her a tea--and

as her husband was brilliant, accomplished, and of the best blood of

Louisiana, the little set, tenaciously clinging to its traditional

exclusiveness amidst the whirling ever-changing particles of the

political maelstrom, found no fault in him beyond his calling. And as

he was a man of tact and never mentioned politics in its presence, and

as his wife was not at home to the public on the first Tuesday of the

month, reserving that day for such of her friends as shunned political

petticoats, the young couple were taken straight into the bosom of that

inner set which the ordinary outsider might search for a very glimpse

of in vain.

How Lady Mary stood with the large and heterogeneous political set

Betty had no means of knowing, and she was curious to ascertain; she

could think of no position more trying for an Englishwoman of Mary

Gifford's class.

As she drove toward the house several hours after announcing her plan

of campaign to her mother, she found Massachusetts Avenue blocked with

carriages and recalled suddenly that Tuesday was "Representatives'

day." She gave a little laugh as she imagined Mrs. Madison's plaintive

distaste. And then she felt the tremor and flutter, the pleasurable

desire to run away, which had assailed her on the night of her first

ball. That was eight years ago, and she had not experienced a moment of

nervous trepidation since.

"Am I about to be re-born?" she thought. "Or merely rejuvenated? I

certainly do feel young again."

She looked about critically as she entered the house. Her own home,

which was older than the White House, was large and plain, with lofty

rooms severely trimmed in the colonial style. There were no portieres,

no modern devices of decoration. Everything was solid and comfortable,

worn, and of a long and honourable descent. The dining-room and large

square hall were striking because of the blackness of their oak walls,

the many family portraits, and certain old trophies of the chase, as

vague in their high dark corners as fading daguerreotypes.

So imbued was Betty with the idea that anything more elaborate was the

sign manifest of too recent fortune, that she had indulged in caustic

criticism of the modern palaces of certain New York friends. But

although the immediate impression of the Montgomery house was of soft

luxurious richness, and it was indubitably the home of wealthy people

determined to enjoy life, Miss Madison's dainty nose did not lift

itself.

"At all events, the money is not laid on with a trowel," she thought.

And then she became aware of a curious sensuous longing as she looked

again at the dim rich beauty about her, the smothered windows, the

suggested power of withdrawal from every vulgar or annoying contact

beyond those stately walls.

"I should like--I should like--" thought Betty, striving to put her

vague emotion into words, "to live in this sort of house when I marry."

And then her humour flashed up: it was a sense that sat at the heels of

every serious thought. "What a combination with the twang and the

toothpick! Can they really be my fate? Of course I might reform both,

and cut off his Uncle Sam beard while he slept."

She had taken the wrong direction and entered a room in which there was

not even a stray guest. A loud buzz of voices rose and fell at the end

of a long hall, and she slowly made her way to the drawing-room,

pausing once to watch a footman who was busily sorting visiting-cards

into separate packs at a table. She handed him her card, and he slipped

it into a pack marked "I Street."

The drawing-room was thronged with people, and as many of them

surrounded the hostess, while constant new-comers pressed forward to

shake a patient hand, Betty decided to stand apart for a few moments

and look at the crowd. She was in a new world, and as eager and curious

as if she had been shot from Earth to Mars.

Lady Mary was quite as handsome as her portraits: a cold blue and white

and ashen beauty whose carriage and manifest of race were in curious

contrast, Lee had told Betty, to a nervous manner and the loud voice of

one who conceived that social laws had been invented for the middle

class. But there was little vivacity in her manner to-day, and her

voice was not audible across the large room. She looked tired. It was

half-past five o'clock, and doubtless she had been on her feet since

three. But she was smiling graciously upon her visitors, and gave each

a warmth of welcome which betrayed the wife of the ambitious politician.

"Her mouth is not so selfish as in her photographs," observed the

astute Betty. "I suppose in the depths of her soul she hates this, but

she does it; and if she loves the man, she must think it well worth

while."

She turned her attention to the visitors. There were many women

superbly dressed, in taste as perfect as her own. She never had seen

any of them before, but they had the air of women of importance. The

majority looked frigid and bored, a few dignified and easy of manner.

The younger women of the same class were more animated, but no less

irreproachable in style.

There were others, middle-aged and young, with all the native style of

the second-class, and still others who were clad in coarse serges,

cashmeres, or cheap silks, shapelessly made with the heavy hand of many

burdens. These did not detain the hostess in conversation, but gathered

in groups, or walked about the room gazing at the many beautiful

pictures and ornaments. There were only three or four really

vulgar-looking women present, and they were clothed in conspicuous

raiment. One, and all but her waist was huge, wore a bodice of

transparent gauze; another, also of middle years, had crowned her hard

over-coloured face with a large gentian-blue hat turned up in front

with a brass buckle. Another was in pink silk and heavily powdered. But

although these women were offensively loud, they did not suggest any

lack of that virtue whose exact proportions so often elude the most

earnest seeker after truth.

Betty turned impulsively to an old woman clad in shabby black who stood

besides her gazing earnestly at the crowd. Her large bony face was

crossed by the lines and wrinkles of long years of care, and her eyes

were dim; but her mouth was smiling.

"Tell me," exclaimed Betty, "please--are all these people in politics?

I--I--am a stranger, and I should like to know who they are."

"Well, I can tell you pretty near everything you want to know, I

guess," replied the old lady. She had the drawl and twang and accent of

rural New England. "I guess you've come here, like myself, jest to see

the folks. A few here, like you and me, ar'n't in official life, but

the most are, I guess. Nearly all the Cabinet ladies are here to-day

and a good many Senators' wives and darters. That there lady in

heliotrope and fur is the wife of the Secretary of War, and the one in

green velvet and chinchilla is Mis' Senator Maxwell. That real stylish

handsome girl just behind is her darter, and I guess she has a good

many beaux. They're real elegant, ar'n't they? I guess we have good

cause to be proud of our ladies."

She paused that Betty might express her approval, and upon being

assured that Paris was responsible for many of the gowns present,

continued in her monotonous but kindly drawl,

"And some of them began life doin' their own work. The President ain't

no aristocrat, and most of his friends ain't neither; but I tell you

when their wives begin to entertain they do it jest as if they was born

to it. I presume if my husband--he was a physician--had gone into

politics and had luck, I'd have been jest like those ladies; but as he

didn't, I'm still doin' most of my own work and look it. But the Lord

knows what he's about, I guess. Senator Maxwell's a swell; they've

always been rich, the Maxwells, and he married a New York girl, so she

didn't have much to learn, I guess. Mis' Senator Shattuc--she's the one

in wine colour--was the darter of a big railroad man out West, so I

guess she had all the schoolin' and Yurrup she wanted. Now that real

pretty little woman jest speakin' to Lady Montgomery is Mis' Senator

Freeman. They do say as how she was the darter of a baker in Chicago

and used to run barefoot around the streets, but she looks as well as

any of 'em now and she dines at every Embassy in Washington. Her

dresses are always described in the _Post_: she wears pink and blue

mostly. You kin tell by her face that she's got a lot of determination

and that she'd git where she had a mind to. I guess she'd dine with

Queen Victoria if she had a mind to."

"I feel exactly as if I were at a pantomime," cried Betty, delightedly.

"Even you--" She caught herself up. "I mean I always thought the New

England playwrights invented all their characters. Who are these

plainly dressed women and--and--half-way ones?" "Oh, they're

Representatives' wives mostly," drawled the old lady, who looked

puzzled. "They take a day off and call on each other. One or two is

Senators' wives. Some of the Senators is rich, but some ar'n't. Mis'

Montgomery's jest as nice to them as to the swells, and she told me to

be sure and go into the next room and have a cup of tea. I don't care

much about tea excep' for lunch, and she don't have a collation--I

presume she can't; too many people'd come, and I guess she has about

enough. Now, those ladies that don't look exactly as if they was

ladies," indicating the large birds of tawdry plumage and striking

complexions, "they don't live here. Washington ladies don't dress like

that. I guess they're the wives of men out West that have made their

pile lately and come here to see the sights. First they look at all the

public buildin's, and I guess they about walk all over the Capitol, and

hear a speech or two in the Ladies' Gallery--from their Senators, if

they can--and after that they go about in Society a bit. You see,

Washington is a mighty nice place fur people who haven't much show at

home--those that live in small towns, fur instance. There is so many

public receptions they can go to--The White House, the Wednesdays of

the Cabinet ladies, the Thursdays of the Senator's wives, and six or

seven Representatives--mebbe more--who have real elegant houses; and

then there is several Legations that give public receptions. You can

always see in the _Post_ who's goin' to receive; and those women can go

home and talk fur the rest of their lives about the fine time they had

in Washington society. Amurricans heighst themselves whenever they git

a chance. I don't care to do that. My sister--she's a heap younger 'n I

am and awful spry--and I come down from the north of New Hampshire

every winter and keep a boardin'-house in Washington so that we can see

the world. We don't go home with ten dollars over railroad fare in our

pockets, but we don't mind, because the farm keeps us and we've had a

real good time. I often sit down up in New Hampshire and think of the

beautiful houses and dresses and pictures I've seen, and I can always

remember that I've shaken hands with the President and his wife and the

ladies of the Cabinet. They're just as nice as they can be."

Betty, whose sympathies were quick and keen, winked away a tear. "I'm

so glad you enjoy it so much," she exclaimed, "and that there is so

much for you here to enjoy. I never thought of it in that way. I'm

awfully interested in it all, myself, and I feel deeply indebted to

you."

"Well, you needn't mind that. My sister says I always talk when I can

git anybody to listen to me, and I guess I do. Where air you from? New

York, I guess."

"Oh, I am a Washingtonian. My name is Madison."

"So? I don't remember seeing it in the society columns."

"We are never mentioned in society columns," exclaimed Betty, with her

first thrill of pride since entering the new world. "But I seldom have

passed a winter out of Washington, although--I am sorry to say--I never

have met any of these people."

"You don't say. I ain't curious, but you don't look as if you had to

stay to home and do the work. But Amurrican girls are so smart they can

about look anything they have a mind to." "Oh--I am really sorry, but

everybody seems to be going, and I haven't spoken to Lady Mary yet. I'm

_so_ much obliged to you."

"Now, you needn't be, for you're a real nice young lady, and I've

enjoyed talkin' to you. Likely we'll meet again, but I'd be happy to

have you call. Here's my card. Our house is right near here--in the

real fashionable part; and we've several ladies livin' with us that you

might like to meet."

"Oh, thanks! thanks!" Betty put the card carefully into her case, shook

her new friend warmly by the hand, and went forward. Lady Mary's tired

white face had set into an almost mechanical smile, but as her eyes met

Betty's they illumined with sudden interest and her hard-worked muscles

relaxed.

"You are Betty Madison!" she exclaimed. And as the two girls shook

hands they conceived one of those sudden and violent friendships which

are so full of interest while they last.

"How awfully good of you to call so soon!" continued Lady Mary, after

Betty had expatiated upon her long-cherished desire for this meeting.

"I hoped you would, although Miss Carter rather frightened me with her

account of your mother's aversion to political people. But they have

all been so good to me--all your delightful set." She lowered her

voice, which had rung out for a moment in something of its old style,

albeit platitudes had worn upon its edges. "I _couldn't_ stand just

this--although I must add that many of the official women are charming

and have the most stunning manners; but many are the reverse, and

unfortunately I can't pick and choose. It seems that when one gets into

politics in this country that is the end of nine-tenths of one's

personal life; and Washington is certainly the headquarters of

democracy. Here every American really does feel that he is as good as

every other American; I wish to heaven he didn't."

"Washington is a democracy with a kernel of the most exclusive

aristocracy," said Betty, with a laugh. "Some one has said that it is

the drawing-room of the Republic. It is the hotel drawing-room with a

Holy of Holies opening upon the area. I'm sick of the Holy of Holies,

and I 've never enjoyed a half-hour so much as while I've been looking

on here--waiting for you to be disengaged."

"Oh, this is nothing. You must let me take you to a large evening

reception. That is really interesting, for you see so many famous

people. Can't you dine with me to-morrow? We've a big political dinner

on. About fifteen members of a Senate and a House Committee that are

deliberating a very important bill are coming. Senator North--he is

well worth meeting--is Chairman of the Senate Committee, and my

husband, although a new member, stands very high with the Chairman of

his Committee, most of whom are old members of the House. Senator Ward

also will be here. Do come, if you have nothing more important on hand.

I can easily get another member of the House Committee."

"Come! I'd break twenty engagements to come." Betty's eyes sparkled and

she lifted her head with a motion peculiar to her when reminded that

she was the favoured of the gods. "I suppose there is a good deal of

fag about this sort of life to you, but it has all the charm of the

undiscovered country for me."

"Oh, I am deeply interested," said Lady Mary. The two women were alone

now, and the hostess, released after three hours of stereotyped

amenities, surrendered herself to the charm of natural intercourse with

one of her own sort, and rang for tea. "I always liked politics, and I

feel quite sure that my husband will achieve his high ambitions. It

interests me greatly to help him."

"Of course he'll be President!" cried Betty, enthusiastic in the warmth

of her new friendship and its possibilities. She was surprised by a

tilt of the nose and an emphatic shake of the head.

"No, indeed!" exclaimed Lady Mary, "Presidents are politicians only. My

husband aspires higher than that. To be a Senator of the first rank

requires very different qualities."

"Ah! I shall quote that to Mol--my mother. She is not predisposed in

their favour."

"Of course there are Senators and Senators," said Lady Mary, hastily.

"You can't get ninety men of equal ability together, anywhere. There

are the six who are admittedly the first,--North, Maxwell, Ward, March,

Howard, and Eustis,--and about ten who are close behind them. Then

there is the venerable group to which Senator Maxwell also belongs; and

the younger men of forty-five or so who are not quite broken in yet,

and whose enthusiasm is apt to take the wrong direction; and the

fire-eaters, Populists usually; and the hard-working second-rate men,

many of them millionaires (Western, as a rule) who are accused of

having bought their legislatures to get in, but who do good work on

Committee, whether or not they came under the delusion that they had

bought an honour with nothing beneath it: a man who presumed on his

wealth in the Senate would fare as badly as a boy at Eton who presumed

on his title. Beyond all, are the nonentities that are in every body.

So, you see, it is worth while to aim for the first place and to keep

it."

"There are certainly all sorts to choose from! I'll never mistrust my

instincts again. I am glad I shall meet Senator North to-morrow. I

suppose he is a courtly person of the old school with a Websterian

intellect."

"I don't know anything about Webster; I can't read your history and

live in it, too; but certainly there is nothing of the old school about

Senator North. He is very modern and has a truly Republican--or shall I

say aristocratic?--simplicity--although no one could dress

better--combined with a cold manner to most men and a warm manner to

most women."

"Tell me all about him!" exclaimed Betty, sipping her tea. "I never was

so happy and excited in my life. I feel as if I was Theodosia Burr, or

Nelly Custis, or Dolly Madison come to life. And now I'm going to know

an American statesman before his coat has turned to calf-skin. Quick!

How old is he?"

"Just sixty, and looks much younger, as most of the Senators do. He is

a hard worker--he is Chairman of one Committee and a member of five

others; a brilliant debater, the most accomplished legislator in the

Senate, unyielding in his convictions, and absolutely independent. He

is not popular, as it has never occurred to him to conciliate anybody.

He is very kind and attentive to his invalid wife and proud of his

sons, and he adored a daughter who died four years ago. Rumor has it

that more than one charming woman has consoled him for domestic

afflictions and political trials, but I do not pay much attention to

rumours of that sort. How odd that I, an alien, should be instructing a

Washingtonian in politics and the personalities of her Senators; but I

quite understand. I do hope Mrs. Madison will not object to your coming

to-morrow night."

"I shall come. And go now. I feel a brute to have let you talk so much,

but I never have been so interested!"

The two women kissed and parted; and Lady Mary's dreams that night were

undisturbed by any vision of herself in the ranks of the Fates.