Senator North | Page 7

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