Unleavened Bread Part 29

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 a.s.sertion that he had only two months previous closed out his account owing to the conviction that prudent investors were getting under cover. This a.s.surance gave the episode a still more providential aspect in Selma's eyes. In the first flush of her grat.i.tude 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 fas.h.i.+onable 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 ac.u.men 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 a.s.sert 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 G.o.dless 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 pa.s.s out of our lives. Williams was smart and entertaining, but I never liked his taking advantage of the circ.u.mstances 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 a.s.suredly, Selma," Lyons answered. His predilection to palliate equivocal circ.u.mstances 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 wors.h.i.+pped 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 Babc.o.c.k. 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 flouris.h.i.+ng 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 pet.i.tion 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 pet.i.tioners, 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 a.s.sembled. 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 Inst.i.tute 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 Babc.o.c.k, 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 princ.i.p.al guest of honor. Selma thus found a dozen opportunities to exhibit herself to a large audience and testify to her faith in democratic inst.i.tutions.

On the 22d of February, Was.h.i.+ngton'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 a.s.sembled 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 cla.s.s, 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 const.i.tuency. 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 friends.h.i.+p 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 pa.s.sed 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 fas.h.i.+ons, 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 fas.h.i.+on 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 sn.o.bbery. 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 G.o.dless 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 pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sing un.o.bserved. 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 s.h.i.+rk 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 fas.h.i.+on. 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 e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n 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 Was.h.i.+ngton: '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 gla.s.s 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?"