Lyons was chosen Governor by a large majority, as Elton had predicted.
The Republican Party was worsted at the polls and driven out of power
both at Washington and in the State. Lyons ran ahead of his ticket,
receiving more votes than the presidential electors. The campaign was
full of incidents grateful to Selma's self esteem. Chief among these was
the conspicuous allusions accorded her by the newspapers. The campaign
itself was a fervid repetition of the stirring scenes of two years
previous. Once more torch-light processions in vociferous serried
columns attested the intensity of party spirit. Selma felt herself an
adept through her former experience, and she lost no opportunity to show
herself in public and bear witness to her devotion to her husband's
cause. It pleased her to think that the people recognized her when she
appeared on the balcony or reviewing stand, and that her presence evoked
an increase of enthusiasm.
But the newspaper publicity was even more satisfying, for it centred
attention unequivocally on her. Columns of descriptive matter relative
to her husband's personality began to appear as soon as it became
obvious that he was to be Governor. These articles aimed to be
exhaustive in their character, covering the entire scope of his past
life, disclosing pitiless details in regard to his habits, tastes, and
private concerns. Nothing which could be discovered or ferreted out was
omitted; and most of these biographies were illuminated by a variety of
more or less hideous cuts showing, for example, his excellency as he
looked as a school boy, his excellency as a fledgling attorney, the
humble home where his excellency was born, and his excellency's present
stately but hospitable residence on Benham's River Drive. Almost every
newspaper in the State took its turn at contributing something which it
conceived to be edifying to this reportorial budget. And after the
Governor, came the turn of the Governor's lady, as she was called.
Selma liked best the articles devoted exclusively to herself; where she
appeared as the special feature of the newspaper issue, not merely as an
adjunct to her husband. But she liked them all, and she was most
benignant in her reception of the several newspaper scribes, principally
of her own sex, who sought an interview for the sake of copy. She
withheld nothing in regard to her person, talents, household, or tastes
which would in her opinion be effective in print. She had a photograph
of herself taken in simple, domestic matronly garb to supplement those
which she already possessed, one of which revealed the magnificence of
the attire she wore at the President's Reception; another portrayed
Littleton's earnest bride, and still a fourth disclosed her as the
wistful, aspiring school-mistress on the threshold of womanhood. These,
and the facts appropriate to them, she meted out to her biographers from
time to time, lubricating her amiable confidences with the assertion
that both she and her husband felt that the people were entitled to be
made familiar with the lives of their public representatives. As the
result of her gracious behavior, her willingness to supply interesting
details concerning herself, and her flattering tendency to become
intimate on the spot with the reporters who visited her, the newspaper
articles in most cases were in keeping with Selma's prepossessions.
Those which pleased her most emphasized in the first place her
intellectual gifts and literary talents, intimating delicately that she
had refused brilliant offers for usefulness with her pen and on the
lecture platform in order to become the wife of Congressman Lyons, to
whom her counsel and high ideals of public service were a constant
stimulus. Emphasized in the second place her husband's and her own pious
tastes, and strong religious convictions, to which their constant church
attendance and the simple sanctity of their American home bore
testimony. Emphasized in the third place--reproducing ordinarily a
sketch 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 word
both in Benham and in New York. A few of the articles stated in
judicious terms that she had been twice a widow. Only one of them set
this forth in conspicuous and opprobrious terms: "Her Third Husband! Our
Chief Magistrate's Wife's Many Marriages!" Such was the unsympathetic,
alliterative heading of the malicious statement which appeared in an
opposition organ. It did no more than recall the fact that she had
obtained a divorce from her first husband, who had in his despair taken
to drink, and intimate that her second husband had not been altogether
happy. Selma wept when she read the article. She felt that it was cruel
and uncalled for; that it told only half the truth and traduced her
before the American people. She chose to conceive that it had been
inspired by Pauline and Mrs. Hallett Taylor, neither of whom had sent
her a word of congratulation on her promotion to be the Governor's wife.
Who but Pauline knew that her marriage with Littleton had not been
completely harmonious? Who but Mrs. Taylor or one of her set would have
the malice to insinuate that she had been merciless to Babcock? This was
one libel in a long series of complimentary productions. The
representation of the family group was made complete by occasional
references to the Governor elect's mother--"Mother Lyons, the venerable
parent of our chief magistrate." Altogether Selma felt that the picture
presented to the public was a truthful and inspiring record of pious and
enterprising American life, which showed to the community that its
choice of a Governor had been wise and was merited.
Close upon the election and these eulogistic biographies came the
inauguration, with Lyons's eloquent address. Selma, of course, had
special privileges--a reserved gallery in the State House, to which she
issued cards of admission to friends of her own selection. Occupying in
festal attire the centre of this conspicuous group, she felt that she
was the cynosure of every eye. She perceived that she was constantly
pointed out as the second personage of the occasion. To the few
legislators on the floor whom she already knew she took pains to bow
from her seat with gracious cordiality, intending from the outset to aid
her husband by captivating his friends and conciliating the leaders of
the opposition party. On her way to and from the gallery she was joined
by several members, to each of whom she tried to convey subtly the
impression that she purposed to take an earnest interest in legislative
affairs, and that her husband would be apt to consult her in regard to
close questions. On the morning after the inauguration she had the
satisfaction of seeing her own portrait side by side with that of her
husband on the front page of two newspapers, a flattering indication, as
she believed, that the press already recognized her value both as a
helpmate to him and an ornament to the State. She took up her life as
the Governor's lady feeling that her talents and eagerness to do good
had finally prevailed and that true happiness at last was in store for
her. She was satisfied with her husband and recognized his righteous
purpose and capacity as a statesman, but she believed secretly that his
rapid success was due in a large measure to her genius. Her prompting
had inspired him to make a notable speech in his first Congress. Her
charms and clever conversation had magnetized Mr. Elton so that he had
seen fit to nominate him for Governor. A fresh impulse to her
self-congratulation that virtue and ability were reaping their reward
was given a few weeks later by the announcement which Lyons read from
the morning newspaper that the firm of Williams & Van Horne had failed
disastrously. The circumstances attending their down-fall were
sensational. It appeared that Van Horne, the office partner, who managed
the finances, had shot himself as the culmination of a series of
fraudulent hypothecations of securities and misrepresentations to which
it was claimed that Williams was not a party. The firm had been
hopelessly insolvent for months, and had been forced to the wall at last
by a futile effort on the part of Van Horne to redeem the situation by a
final speculation on a large scale. It had failed owing to the
continuation of the state of dry rot in the stock market, and utter ruin
followed.
The regret which Lyons entertained as he read aloud the tragic story was
overshadowed in his mind by his own thankfulness that he had redeemed
the bonds and settled his account with them before the crash came. He
was so absorbed by his own emotions that he failed to note the
triumphant tone of his wife's ejaculation of amazement. "Failed!
Williams & Van Horne failed! Oh, how did it happen? I always felt sure
that 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 emphasis
of one who has had a narrow escape. He stopped in the course of it to
relieve any solicitude which she might be feeling in regard to his
dealings with the firm, by the assertion that he had only two months
previous closed out his account owing to the conviction that prudent
investors were getting under cover. This assurance gave the episode a
still more providential aspect in Selma's eyes. In the first flush of
her gratitude that Flossy had been superbly rebuked for her frivolous
existence, she had forgotten that they were her husband's brokers.
Moreover the lack of perturbation in his manner was not calculated to
inspire alarm. But the news that Lyons had been shrewd enough to escape
at the twelfth hour without a dollar's loss heightened the justice of
the situation. She listened with throbbing pulses to the particulars.
She could scarcely credit her senses that her irrepressible and
light-hearted enemy had been confounded at last--confronted with
bankruptcy and probable disgrace. She interrupted the reading to express
her scepticism regarding the claim that Williams had no knowledge of the
frauds.
"How could he be ignorant? He must have known. He must have bribed the
reporters to put that in so as to arouse the sympathy of some of their
fashionable friends. Van Horne is dead, and the lips of the dead are
sealed."
Selma spoke with the confidence born of bitterness. She was pleased with
her acumen in discerning the true inwardness of the case. Her husband
nodded with mournful acquiescence. "It would seem," he said, "as if he
must have had an inkling, at least, of what was going on."
"Of course he had. Gregory Williams, with all his faults, was a
wide-awake man. I always said that."
Lyons completed the reading and murmured with a sigh, which was half
pity, half grateful acknowledgment of his own good fortune--"It's a bad
piece of business. I'm glad I had the sense to act promptly."
Selma was ruminating. Her steel bright eyes shone with exultation. Her
sense of righteousness was gratified and temporarily appeased. "They'll
have to sell their house, of course, and give up their horses and
steam-yacht? I don't see why it doesn't mean that Flossy and her husband
must come down off their pedestal and begin over again? It follows,
doesn't it, that the heartless set into which they have wormed their way
will 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 be
adduced in order to knock it in the head. But Lyons saw no reason to
differ from her verdict. "It means necessarily great mortification for
them and a curtailment of their present mode of life," he said. "I am
sorry for them."
"Sorry? Of course, James, it is distressing to hear that misfortune has
befallen any person of one's acquaintance, and so far as Gregory
Williams himself is concerned I have no wish to see him punished simply
because he has been worldly and vainglorious. You thought him able in a
business 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 to
assert that I am sorry for her. I should deem myself unworthy of being
considered an earnest-minded American woman if I did not maintain that
this disgrace which has befallen them is the logical and legitimate
consequence of their godless lives--especially of her frivolity and
presumptuous indifference to spiritual influences. That woman, James, is
utterly hostile to the things of the spirit. You have no conception--I
have never told you, because he was your friend, and I was willing to
let bygones be bygones on the surface on your account--you have no
conception of the cross her behavior became to me in New York. From
almost the first moment we met I saw that we were far apart as the poles
in our views of the responsibilities of life. She sneered at everything
which you and I reverence, and she set her face against true progress
and the spread of American principles. She claimed to be my friend, and
to sympathize with my zeal for social truth, yet all the time she was
toadying secretly the people whose luxurious exclusiveness made me
tremble sometimes for the future of our country. She and her husband
were prosperous, and everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. It
may sound irreverent, James, but there was a time during my life in New
York when I was discouraged; when it seemed as though heaven were
mocking me and my husband in our homely struggle against the forces of
evil, and bestowing all its favors on a woman whose example was a menace
to American womanhood! Sorry? Why should I be sorry to see justice
triumph and shallow iniquity rebuked? I would give Florence Williams
money if she is in want, but I am thankful, very thankful, that her
heartless 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 in
contact with them, and in all probability they will pass out of our
lives. Williams was smart and entertaining, but I never liked his taking
advantage of the circumstances of my having an account in his office to
urge me to support a measure at variance with my political convictions."
"Precisely. The trouble with them both, James, is that they have no
conscience; and it is eminently just they should be made to realize that
people who lack conscience cannot prosper in this country in the long
run. 'They have loosed the awful lightnings of his terrible swift
sword.'"
"I say 'amen' to that assuredly, Selma," Lyons answered. His
predilection to palliate equivocal circumstances was never proof against
clear, evidence of moral delinquency. When his religious scruples were
finally offended, he was grave and unrelenting.
The downfall of the Williamses continued to be a sweet solace and source
of encouragement to Selma. It made her, when taken in conjunction with
her own recent progress, feel that the whirligig of time was working in
her behalf after all; and that if she persevered, not merely Flossy, but
all those who worshipped mammon, and consequently failed to recognize
her talents, would be made to bite the dust. At the moment these enemies
seemed to have infested Benham. Numerically speaking, they were
unimportant, but they had established an irritating, irregular skirmish
line, one end of which occupied Wetmore College, another held secret
midnight meetings at Mrs. Hallett Taylor's. Rumors of various
undertakings, educational, semi-political, artistic, or philanthropic,
agitated or directed by this fringe of society, came to her ears from
time to time, but she heard them as an outsider. When she became the
Governor's wife she had said to herself that now these aristocrats would
be compelled to admit her to their counsels. But she found, to her
annoyance, that the election made no difference. Neither Pauline nor
Mrs. Taylor nor any of the coterie had asked her to join them, and she
was unpleasantly conscious that there were people on the River Drive who
showed no more desire to make her acquaintance than when she had been
Mrs. Lewis Babcock. What did this mean? It meant simply--she began to
argue--that she must hold fast to her faith and bide her time. That if
she and her friends kept a bold front and resisted the encroachments of
this pernicious spirit, Providence would interfere presently and
confound these enemies of social truth no less obviously than it had
already 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 of
her signature to social or charitable enterprises. Her hospital was
flourishing along the lines of the policy which she had indicated, and
was feeling the advantage of her political prosperity. She was able to
give the petition in behalf of Mrs. Hamilton, which contained now
twenty-five thousand signatures, fresh value and solemnity by means of
an autograph letter from the Governor's wife, countersigned by the
Governor. This, with the bulky list of petitioners, she addressed and
despatched directly to Queen Victoria. Her presence was in constant
demand at all sorts of functions, at many of which she had the
opportunity to make a few remarks; to express the welcome of the State,
or to utter words of sympathy and encouragement to those assembled. In
the second month of her husband's administration, she had the
satisfaction of greeting, in her double capacity as newly-elected
President of the Benham Institute and wife of the Governor, the
Federation of Women's Clubs of the United States, on the occasion of its
annual meeting at Benham. This federation was the incorporated fruit of
the Congress of Women's Clubs, which Selma had attended as a delegate
just previous to her divorce from Babcock, and she could not refrain
from some exultation at the progress she had made since then as she sat
wielding the gavel over the body of women delegates from every State in
the Union. The meeting lasted three days. Literary exercises alternated
with excursions to points of interest in the neighborhood, at all of
which she was in authority, and the celebration was brought to a
brilliant close by a banquet, to which men were invited. At this Selma
acted as toastmaster, introducing the speakers of the occasion, which
included her own husband. Lyons made a graceful allusion to her
stimulating influence as a helpmate and her executive capacity, which
elicited loud applause. Succeeding this meeting of the Federation of
Women's Clubs came a series of semi-public festivities under the
patronage of women--philanthropic, literary or social in character--for
the fever to perpetuate in club form every congregation, of free-born
citizens, except on election day, had seized Benham in common with the
other cities of the country in its grasp, to each of which the
Governor's wife was invited as the principal guest of honor. Selma thus
found a dozen opportunities to exhibit herself to a large audience and
testify to her faith in democratic institutions.
On the 22d of February, Washington's birthday, she held a reception at
their house on River Drive, for which cards had been issued a fortnight
previous. She pathetically explained to the reporters that, had the
dimensions and resources of her establishment permitted, she and the
Governor would simply have announced themselves at home to the community
at large; that they would have preferred this, but of course it would
never do. The people would not be pleased to see a rabble confound the
hospitality of the chief magistrate and his wife. The people demanded
proper dignity from their representatives in office. The list of
invitations which Selma sent out was, however, comprehensive. She aimed
to invite everyone of social, public, commercial or political
importance. A full band was in attendance, and a liberal collation was
served. Selma confided to some of her guests, who, she thought, might
criticise the absence of wine, that she had felt obliged, out of
consideration for her husband's political prospects, to avoid wounding
the feelings of total abstainers. The entertainment lasted from four to
seven, and the three hours of hand-shaking provided a delicious
experience to the hostess. She gloried in the consciousness that this
crush of citizens, representing the leaders of the community in the
widest sense, had been assembled by her social gift, and that they had
come to offer their admiring homage to the clever wife of their
Governor. It gratified her to think that Pauline and Mrs. Taylor and the
people of that class, to all of whom she had sent cards, should behold
her as the first lady of the State, and mistress of a beautiful home,
dispensing hospitality on broad, democratic lines to an admiring
constituency. When Mr. Horace Elton approached, Selma perpetrated a
little device which she had planned. As they were in the act of shaking
hands a very handsome rose fell--seemingly by chance--from the bouquet
which she carried. He picked it up and tendered it to her, but Selma
made him keep it, adding in a lower tone, "It is your due for the
gallant friendship you have shown me and my husband." She felt as though
she were a queen bestowing a guerdon on a favorite minister, and yet a
woman rewarding in a woman's way an admirer's devotion. She meant Elton
to appreciate that she understood that his interest in Lyons was largely
due to his partiality for her. It seemed to her that she could recognize
to this extent his chivalrous conduct without smirching her blameless
record as an American housewife.
Meantime the Governor was performing his public duties with becoming
dignity and without much mental friction. The legislature was engaged in
digesting the batch of miscellaneous business presented for its
consideration, among which was Elton's gas consolidation bill. Already
the measure had encountered some opposition in committee, but Lyons was
led to believe that the bill would be passed by a large majority, and
that its opponents would be conciliated before his signature was
required. Lyons's reputation as an orator had been extended by his term
in the House of Representatives and his recent active campaign, and he
was in receipt of a number of invitations from various parts of the
country to address august bodies in other States. All of these were
declined, but when, in the month of April, opportunity was afforded him
to deliver a speech on patriotic issues on the anniversary of the battle
of Lexington, he decided, with Selma's approval, to accept the
invitation. He reasoned that a short respite from the cares of office
would be agreeable; she was attracted by the glamour of revisiting New
York as a woman of note. New York had refused to recognize her
superiority and to do her homage, and New York should realize her
present status, and what a mistake had been made. The speech was a
success, and the programme provided for the entertainment of the orator
and his wife included the hospitality of several private houses. Selma
felt that she could afford to hold her head high and not to thaw too
readily for the benefit of a society which had failed to appreciate her
worth when it had the chance. She was the wife now of one of the leading
public men of the nation, and in a position to set fashions, not to ask
favors. Nevertheless she chose on the evening before their return to
Benham to show herself at dinner at Delmonico's, just to let the world
of so-called fashion perceive her and ask who she was. There would
doubtless be people there who knew her by sight, and who, when they were
told that she was now the wife of Governor Lyons, would regret if not be
ashamed of their short-sightedness and snobbery. She wore a striking
dress; she encouraged her husband's willingness to order an elaborate
dinner, including champagne (for they were in a champagne country), and
she exhibited a sprightly mood, looking about her with a knowing air in
observation of the other occupants of the dining-room.
While she was thus engaged the entrance of a party of six, whom the head
waiter conducted with a show of attention to a table which had evidently
been reserved for them, fettered Selma's attention. She stared unable to
believe her eyes, then flushed and looked indignant. Her attention
remained rivetted on this party while they laid aside their wraps and
seated themselves. Struck by the annoyed intensity of his wife's
expression, 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 her
scrutiny.
"It's an outrage on decency," she murmured, at last. "How dare she show
herself here and entertain those people?"
"Of whom are you talking, Selma?"
"The Williamses. Flossy Williams and her husband. The two couples with
them live on Fifth Avenue, and used to be among her exclusive friends.
Her husband has just ordered the dinner. I saw him give the directions
to the waiter. It is monstrous that they, who only a few months ago
failed disgracefully and were supposed to have lost everything, should
be going on exactly as if nothing had happened."
"People in New York have the faculty of getting on their feet again
quickly after financial reverses," said Lyons, mildly. "Like as not some
of Williams's friends have enabled him to make a fresh start."
"So it seems," Selma answered, sternly. She sat back in her chair with a
discouraged air and neglected her truffled chicken. "It isn't right; it
isn'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 people
triumph. Because it offends me to see a man and woman, who are
practically penniless through their own evil courses, and should be
discredited everywhere, able to resume their life of vanity and
extravagance without protest."
While she was speaking Selma suddenly became aware that her eyes had met
those 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 in
her chair to greet him, cutting off any hope which he may have had of
passing unobserved. She was glad of the opportunity to show the company
that she was on familiar terms with a man so well known, and she had on
her tongue what she regarded as a piece of banter quite in keeping with
his usual vein.
"How d'y do, Dr. Page? We haven't met for a long time. You do not know
my husband, Governor Lyons, I think. Dr. Page used to be our family
physician when I lived in New York, James. Everyone here knows that he
has 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. I
congratulate you. You are living in Benham, I believe, far from this
hurly-burly?"
"Yes, a little bird told me the other day that a no less distinguished
person than Dr. Page had been seen in Benham twice during the last three
months. Of course a Governor's wife is supposed to know everything which
goes on, and for certain reasons I was very much interested to hear this
bit of news. I am a very discreet woman, doctor. It shall go no
further."
The physician's broad brow contracted slightly, but his habitual
self-control concealed completely the inclination to strangle his
bright-eyed, over-dressed inquisitor. He was the last man to shirk the
vicissitudes of playful speech, and he preferred this mood of Selma's to
her solemn style, although his privacy was invaded.
"I should have remembered," he said, "that there is nothing in the world
which Mrs. Lyons does not know by intuition."
"Including the management of a hospital, Dr. Page. Perhaps you don't
know that I am the managing trustee of a large hospital?"
"Yes, I was informed of that in Benham. I should scarcely venture to
tell you what my little bird said. It was an old fogy of a bird, with a
partiality for thorough investigation and scientific methods, and a
thorough distrust of the results of off-hand inspiration in the
treatment of disease."
"I dare say. But we are succeeding splendidly. The next time you come to
Benham you must come to see me, and I will take you over our hospital. I
don't despair yet of converting you to our side, just as you evidently
don'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 a
college president, so I shall await with interest more news from my
little bird." Selma felt that she was talking to greater advantage than
almost ever before. Her last remark banished every trace of a smile from
her adversary's face, and he stood regarding her with a preternatural
gravity, which should have been appalling, but which she welcomed as a
sign of serious feeling on his part. She felt, too, that at last she had
got the better of the ironical doctor in repartee, and that he was
taking his leave tongue-tied. In truth, he was so angry that he did not
trust himself to speak. He simply glared and departed.
"Poor fellow," she said, by way of explanation to Lyons, "I suppose his
emotion got the better of him, because he has loved her so long. That
was the Dr. Page who has been crazy for years to marry Pauline
Littleton. When he was young he married a woman of doubtful character,
who ran away from him. I used to think that Pauline was right in
refusing to sacrifice her life for his sake. But he has been very
constant, and I doubt if she has originality enough to keep her position
as 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 may
have 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. They
are just suited for each other, and I shall be on his side after this."
The interest of this episode served to restore somewhat Selma's
serenity, but she kept her attention fixed on the table where the
Williamses were sitting, observing with a sense of injury their gay
behavior. To all appearances, Flossy was as light-hearted and volatile
as ever. Her attire was in the height of fashion. Had adversity taught
her nothing? Had the buffet of Providence failed utterly to sober her
frivolous spirit? It seemed to Selma that there could be no other
conclusion, and though she and Lyons had finished dinner, she was unable
to take her eyes off the culprits, or to cease to wonder how it was
possible for people with nothing to continue to live as though they had
everything. Her moral nature was stirred to resentment, and she sat
spell-bound, seeking in vain for a point of consolation.
Meantime Lyons, like a good American, had sent for an evening paper, and
was deep in its perusal. A startled ejaculation from him aroused Selma
from her nightmare. Her husband was saying to her across the table:
"My dear, Senator Calkins is dead." He spoke in a solemn, excited
whisper.
"Our Senator Calkins?"
"Yes. This is the despatch from Washington: 'United States Senator
Calkins dropped dead suddenly in the lobby of the Senate chamber, at ten
o'clock this morning, while talking with friends. His age was 52. The
cause of his death was heart-failure. His decease has cast a gloom over
the Capital, and the Senate adjourned promptly out of respect to the
memory of the departed statesman.'"
"What a dreadful thing!" Selma murmured.
"The ways of Providence are inscrutable," said Lyons. "No one could have
foreseen this public calamity." He poured out a glass of ice-water and
drank it feverishly.
"It's fortunate we have everything arranged to return to-morrow, for of
course 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 her
distinguished husband."
"That will be nice," said Selma. She sat for some moments in silence
observing her husband, and spell-bound by the splendid possibility which
presented itself. She knew that Lyons's gravity and agitation were not
wholly due to the shock of the catastrophe. He, like herself, must be
conscious that he might become the dead Senator's successor. He poured
out and drained another goblet of ice-water. Twice he drew himself up
slightly and looked around the room, with the expression habitual to him
when about to deliver a public address. Selma's veins were tingling with
excitement. Providence had interfered in her behalf again. As the wife
of a United States Senator, everything would be within her grasp.
"James," she said, "we are the last persons in the world to fail in
respect to the illustrious dead, but--of course you ought to have
Senator Calkins's place."
Lyons looked at his wife, and his large lips trembled. "If the people of
my State, Selma, feel that I am the most suitable man for the vacant
senatorship, I shall be proud to serve them."
Selma nodded appreciatively. She was glad that her husband should
approach the situation with a solemn sense of responsibility.
"They are sure to feel that," she said. "It seems to me that you are
practically certain of the party nomination, and your party has a clear
majority of both branches of the Legislature."
Lyons glanced furtively about him before he spoke. "I don't see at the
moment, Selma, how they can defeat me."