Senator North. Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton
gallantly. "And although you are a great deal younger than I—I am forty-four—my father, who was in Congress before me, was a great friend of your father's. He wears a watch to this day that Mr. Madison gave him. He always expressed regret that he never met your mother, but she seemed to have an unconquerable aversion to politics."
"And they met at Chamberlin's!" exclaimed Betty, with a delighted laugh. "It will be the last straw—my having gone into dinner with the son of one of papa's hated boon companions. My mother is a lovely intelligent woman," she added hastily, "but she is intensely Southern and conservative. Her great pride is that she never changes a standard once established."
"Oh, that's a very safe quality in a woman. But of course you have a right to establish your own, and I am glad it points in our direction. And anything you want to know I'll be glad to tell you. Can't I take you up to the Senate to-morrow and put you in our private gallery? There ought to be some good debating, for North is going to attack an important bill that is on the calendar."
"I will go; but let me meet you there. I must ask you to call in due form first, as my poor mother must not have too many shocks. Will you come a week from Sunday?—I am going to New York for a few days."
"I will, indeed. If I were unselfish, I should let you listen for a few minutes, for they are all talking politics; not bills, however, but the possibility of war with Spain. I don't think I shall, though. Tell me what you want to know and I will begin our lessons right here." "Why should we go to war with Spain?"
"Oh dear! Oh dear! Where have you been? There is a small island off the coast of Florida called Cuba. It has many natives, and they are oppressed, tormented, tortured by Spain."
"I visited Cuba once. They are nothing but a lot of negroes and frightfully dirty. Why should we go to war about them?"
"Only about one-third are negroes and there is a large brilliantly educated and travelled upper class. And I see you need instruction in more things than politics—humanity, for instance. Forget that you are a Southerner, divorce yourself from traditions, and try to imagine several hundred thousand people—women and children, principally—starving, hopeless, homeless, unspeakably wretched. Cannot you feel for them?"
"Oh, yes! Yes!" Betty's quick sympathy sent the tears to her eyes, and he looked at her with deepening admiration—a fact the tears did not prevent her from grasping. "And are we going to war in order to release them?"
"Ah! I do not know. There is a war feeling growing in the country; there is no doubt of that. But how high it will grow no one can tell. The leading men in Congress are indifferent, and won't even listen to recognizing the Cubans as belligerents. North will not discuss the subject, and I doubt not is talking over the latest play with Lady Mary at the present moment."
"And you? Do you want war?"
"I do!" His manner gave sudden rein to its inherent nervousness, and his voice rang out for a moment as if he were angrily haranguing the Senate. "Of course I want it. Every human instinct I have compels me to want it, and I cannot understand the apathy and conservatism which prevents our being at war at the present moment. We have posed as the champions of liberty long enough; it is time we did something."
"Ah, this is the youthful enthusiasm of the Senate," thought Betty. "And I have been accustomed to think of forty-five as quite elderly. I feel a mere infant and shall not call myself an old maid till I'm fifty." She smiled approvingly into the Senator's illuminated face, and he plunged at once into details, including the entire history of Spanish colonial misrule. The history was told in head-lines, so to speak, but it was graphic and convincing. Betty nodded encouragingly and asked an occasional intelligent question. She knew the history of Spain as thoroughly as he did, but she would not have told him so for the world. It is only the woman with a certain masculine fibre in her brain who ever really understands men, and when these women have coquetry also, they convince the sex born to admire that they are even more feminine than their weaker sisters. When Senator Burleigh finished, Betty thanked him so graciously and earnestly, with such lively pleasure in her limpid hazel eyes, that he raised his glass impulsively and touched it to hers.
"You must have a salon" he exclaimed. "We need one in Washington, and it would do us incalculable good. Only you could accomplish it: you not only have beauty and brains—and tact?—but you are so apart that you can pick and choose without fear of giving offence. And you are not blas? of the subject like Congressmen's wives, nor has the wild rush and wear and tear of official society chopped up your individuality into a hundred little bits. It would be brutal to mention politics to a woman in political life, and consequently we feel as if no one takes any interest in us unless she has an axe to grind. But you are what we all have been waiting for I feel sure of that! Let it be understood that no mere politician, no man who bought his legislature or is under suspicion in regard to any Trust, can enter your doors. Of course you will have to study the whole question thoroughly; and mind, I am to be your instructor-in-chief."
Betty laughed and thanked him, wondering how well he understood her. He looked like a man who would waste no time on the study of woman's subtleties: he knew what he wanted, and recognized the desired qualities at once, but by a strong masculine instinct, not by analysis.
A few moments later the women went into the drawing-room, and the conversation for the next half-hour was a languid babble of politics, dress, New York, the lady of the White House, and the play. Betty thought the women very nice, but less interesting than the men, possibly because they were women. They certainly looked more intelligent than the average one sat with during the trying half-hour after dinner; but their conversation was fragmentary, and they oddly suggested having left their personality at home and taken their shell out to dinner. Betty also was interested to observe that their composite expression was a curious mingling of fatigue, unselfishness, and peremptoriness. "What does it mean?" she asked of Lady Mary, with whom she stood apart for a moment.
"Oh, they are worked to death—paying calls, entertaining, receiving people on all sorts of business, and helping their husbands in various ways. They have no time to be selfish—rich or poor—and they have acquired the art of disposing of bores and detrimentals in short order. Even their own sort they pass on much in the fashion of royalty. How do you like Senator Burleigh?"
"I never learned so much in two hours in my life. My head feels like a beehive."
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.