, 
 
 RTRAND SMITH* 
 ACRES 01- BOON* 
 
 14% - FIC
 
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 HER SENATOR 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "MR, BARNES OF NEW YORK," ETC., ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HURST & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1898, 
 
 by 
 A. C. GUNTKR. 
 
 AD. ritffcta rwwrved.
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 M 
 
 PAGB. 
 
 S 
 
 II 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 WALL STREET IN 1873. 
 
 I. -The Word Under the Ocean 
 
 II._Two Helpless Ones," 
 
 III. The Shepherd's Fold, - - 25 
 
 IV. "I Sold the Bible," .^ 37 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CATCHING A SENATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER V. "I Will be his Cleopatra," - 46 
 
 VI. A Night at Koster & Bial's, - 63 
 
 " VII. " Beware of Alimony," - - 83 
 
 " VIII. Burning Her Bridges, - - 95 
 
 " IX The Saratoga Express, - - 104 
 
 X." His Gal!" - - - 116 
 
 " XI. Wanted a Duenna, - * - 135 
 
 2061723
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. The Hop at the Narragansett 
 
 Casino, .... 146 
 
 11 XIII. In the Shadow of the Gelatine 
 
 Trust, 154 
 
 " XIV. The Ambiguous Kiss, - - 167 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 THE CAMPAIGN IN WASHINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. Mrs. Montressor's Dinner Party, 183 
 
 " XVI. Prayers to the Devil, - - 202 
 
 " XVIL The Second Tenor Makes a Hit, 213 
 " XVIII. If I Say "Aye," 
 
 Will You Say Aye? - - 223 
 
 " XIX. The Battle for the Man, - - 239 
 *' XX "You Can't Ruin a United 
 
 States Senator," - - 253
 
 HER SENATOR. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 WALL STREET IN 1873. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE WORD UNDER THE OCEAN. 
 
 IT was the second day of April in the Year of Our 
 Lord eighteen hundred and seventy-three. The news- 
 boys were shouting extras telling of the loss of the 
 steamship Atlantic, by which seven hundred passengers 
 found a grave in the bosom of the ocean ; a disaster 
 that carried mourning into the homes of thousands a 
 calamity that even at this day has left scars of remem- 
 brance for lost ones on the hearts of those who loved 
 them. 
 
 Sitting in his private office in Exchange Place, a 
 business man occupied by his correspondence of the 
 day, the voice of the newsboys dominating the buzz of 
 the clerks in the outer office and coming to his ears: 
 "Wreck of the Atlantic seven hundred passengers un- 
 accounted for!" muttered nervously: "He cabled 
 me he would leave about the 2oth," then drooped his 
 head and sighed these curious words : " No SUCH 
 LUCK ! "
 
 6 HER SENATOR. 
 
 A moment after Overhand Guernsey rang his office 
 bell hurriedly, sent out for an extra, and looking it 
 over snarled; 
 
 "Pish! they don't telegraph the names! " 
 
 With that he rapidly wrote a cable, addressed to 
 the White Star Line, Liverpool, brief, pointed, and 
 bearing life and death in its significance : 
 
 " Did Arthur M. Ellison and children sail on the Atlantic? 
 Wire immediately." 
 
 This being dispatched he looked over in a faltering, 
 hesitating, broken-hearted manner certain memoranda 
 and accounts, and at last placing them carefully away 
 in his private safe and securely locking them up, gave a 
 sigh, apparently of relief, when they were out of sight. 
 
 A moment after, a bright, cheery voice broke into 
 his meditations. 
 
 "Come to lunch, old fellow," cried Curtis Wynans, 
 of the New York Stock Board. Then looking at the 
 man before him Wynans, who was a dashing, sunshiny 
 broker, said: "Why are you so silent and gloomy, 
 Guernsey ? " And his eye catching the extra that had 
 dropped upon the floor, he whispered quietly, in a 
 hushed voice: " No friends on board, I hope ? " 
 
 To this the mind of the man he questioned an- 
 swered: "No SUCH LUCK!" but his tongue said : "Yes, 
 I'm afraid one of my dearest friends and his 
 family Arthur Ellison you know him ? He left 
 New York in '68 to live in France. " 
 
 "A Wall Street man?" 
 
 "No! but still a lucky dabbler in stocks. A man of 
 little business capacity, but very fortunate. He had a 
 simple and blind faith in always buying the market at 
 the foot of a panic, and the happy tact of always 
 selling when he had a fair profit. You've heard of a 
 fool for luck?" added Guernsey, almost bitterly. 
 
 " Yes, I'm a living exanplc of it," remarked Wynans.
 
 HER SENATOR. 7 
 
 "I've sold the market short when everybody said it 
 was going up and look at the quotations ! But 
 come to lunch." 
 
 Together they strolled into the street, but curiously 
 enough Overhand Guernsey did not gaze at the quota- 
 tions, as he passed through the outer office. An act 
 of devotion to the bulletin board he had not omitted 
 for years, which produced some strange comments 
 from his clerks. 
 
 "By Jove!" remarked one of the juniors. "Did 
 you see that ? The governor must be hit hard." 
 
 " By what a woman or the market?" 
 
 "By neither," suggested the old bookkeeper. "I 
 think he fears the loss of a friend an intimate friend 
 of former days on the Atlantic. " 
 
 This stopped any laugh; for despite the rush of 
 business despite the excitement, latent or apparent, 
 that is always in the air of Wall Street despite the 
 unanimous bowing down to the golden calf that per- 
 meates the region of stocks, bonds, and insecurities, 
 the tremendous loss of life on the great liner that 
 should have been now at her pier in New York un- 
 loading her passengers, who had already become 
 "things of the past" in the chilling waves and icy 
 blasts of the North Atlantic, the recollection of faces 
 they would never see again, the remembrance of voices 
 their ears would never listen to cast its gloom even 
 over the worshippers in the Temple of Mammon. 
 
 Two minutes after Guernsey and Wynans were at 
 the home of the gourmands of that day Delmonico's 
 downtown restaurant. 
 
 Here the news of the great shipwreck dominated 
 the clatter of knives and forks, the buzz of the wait- 
 ers, and subdued the smiles produced by the last bon 
 mot of Travers or Jerome ; even subordinating to its 
 horror, speculators' thoughts pf the market, whic.h
 
 8 HER SENATOR. 
 
 was now presaging the panic of 1873, its quotations 
 being feverish, with gold rising and stocks declining. 
 
 Amid the clatter of knives and forks, the buzz of 
 conversation, and the hurried bolting of exquisite 
 dishes by brokers too eager to note their taste or 
 flavor, Guernsey and Wynans sat down to eat, though 
 the former apparently had no appetite, playing with 
 his oysters, but drinking feverishly, and once or twice 
 wiping abstractedly with his napkin the clammy per- 
 spiration of nervous agitation from the palms of his 
 unsteady hands. 
 
 "If you can forget your friend long enough to lis- 
 ten to me," whispered Wynans, "I may put you in the 
 line of something good." 
 
 " What is it ?" said the other, shortly. 
 
 "It's this: The Comstock mining stocks are very 
 low in California. You remember that two years ago 
 Crown Point went up from three dollars to three thou- 
 sand dollars a share in a year." 
 
 "You should have told me that two years ago, before 
 it rocketed," laughed Guernsey, nervously. 
 
 "Yes, but I've received a letter from an intimate 
 friend of mine you remember him Packard, a level- 
 headed fellow, who is now out there on a visit. He 
 tells me that some day or other he thinks there may 
 be a chance for a mine called the Consolidated Virginia, 
 that is selling somewhere between thirty and forty dol- 
 lars a share. You might make twenty points on gold 
 on extreme fluctuations; but this stock may go up to 
 hundreds, even thousands of dollars a share. Buy a 
 little and lock it up. I have done so." 
 
 Here Guernsey astonished his friend by saying: "I 
 will, if things go right with me." 
 
 "Why, there's nothing particular the matter, is 
 there, except the loss of your friend ? " 
 
 "Yes, that's it; I don't wish to speculate until I
 
 HER SENATOR. g 
 
 know where he is. You'll excuse me I hear another 
 extra outside." 
 
 With that Guernsey hurriedly dropped his knife 
 and fork and bolted from the restaurant, leaving his 
 companion gazing astonished after him and cogitating: 
 "He's the first man I ever knew that let the death of 
 a friend prevent his making money in stocks! What's 
 the matter with him, anyway ? " 
 
 The object of Wynans's speculation intercepted the 
 newsboy, bought another extra, but, curiously, did not 
 dare to read it on the street. He was afraid the news 
 might cause him to show uncontrollable agitation. 
 
 In the security of his private office he opened the 
 paper, gave a shrill, sudden, choking cry, and, gasping 
 these astonishing words: "By Heavens! my luck has 
 turned at last he's dead! ' sank overcome into a 
 chair 
 
 To him the bookkeeper, coming in on some business 
 five minutes after, picked up the paper, looked at it, 
 and reading in the list of lost the name of Arthur M. 
 Ellison, from Paris, glanced at the bowed head ot his 
 chief and muttered to himself: "Poor fellow! The 
 blow is sudden; they were old, old friends!" 
 
 But ten minutes afterward Guernsey recovered, un- 
 locked the door of his private safe, and pulled out the 
 memoranda he had been gazing at in despair. A mo- 
 ment after carefully placing them in the blazing grate 
 of his private office, he watched them burn, th^n gave 
 a great sigh of relief, called his bookkeeper, and said: 
 " Look over Ellison's accounts. Tell me if he has any 
 balance left, or not. I am afraid his poor children are 
 penniless. I see by this paper that Arthur left them 
 behind him in Paris." 
 
 For the dead and gone Ellison had been that fool of 
 a man in business called the " trusting man," and had 
 left an absolute power of attorney with his old friend.
 
 10 HER SENATOR. 
 
 Overhand Guernsey, and Guernsey had been speculat- 
 ing. Had Ellison returned alive, perchance the State's 
 Prison might have looked Mr. Guernsey in the face ; 
 for, compelled by the exigencies of the market, he had 
 been robbing his friend in Paris right and left for years. 
 
 Five minutes after Mr. Guernsey in the privacy of a 
 Safe Deposit vault, looked over a box of papers marked 
 "Arthur M. Ellison," and selecting a document in an 
 envelope indorsed : "My Last Will and Testament," 
 opened it, and reading it over smiled and murmured to 
 himself: "Arthur was trusting to the last. I am his 
 sole executor and guardian of his children, without 
 bonds or trustees. This will save inquiries that would 
 have been awkward. " Then with a sudden revulsion 
 of feeling he added: "But I'll do the right thing by 
 his children;" though he qualified it a moment after- 
 ward by "If the market turns!" 
 
 Coming out of the Safe Deposit building, with the 
 superstition of a gambler he suddenly thought: "By 
 Jove ! this has been a lucky day. What was that 
 mining stock Wynans spoke of? Oh, yes, Con. 
 Virginia. I'll follow my luck." 
 
 A few minutes afterward he had telegraphed a San 
 Francisco firm to buy for him five hundred shares of 
 Consolidated Virginia. 
 
 That night a cable message arrived in Paris addressed 
 to Mademoiselle Frontain, No. 24^ Boulevard Afults- 
 herles. It announced the death of Mr. Ellison, and 
 directed her to bring forthwith his two children, to 
 whom she was acting the part half of nurse, half of 
 governess, to America.
 
 HER SENATOR. II 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "TWO HELPLESS ONES." 
 
 THREE weeks afterwards a French woman of honest, 
 simple, bourgeois face led into the private office of 
 Mr. Overhand Guernsey two beautiful little girls 
 dressed in the extreme of French fashion, though clad 
 in deep mourning. Their arrival had been expected, 
 and a clerk had met them at the steamer. 
 
 tl Z,fS Demoiselles Eve et Mathilde Ellison, Monsieur 
 Guernsey" said the bonne with a salutation that indi- 
 cated she was of the peasant class. 
 
 "Ah, my dears," remarked the executor and guar- 
 dian, addressing the children, "come and give me a 
 kiss." 
 
 But the elder astonished him with these words: 
 " Mon papa told me never to kiss any gentleman but 
 him ; " and the younger irritated him by hiding her 
 head in her sister's dress and sobbing: '''Papa ! Oil e:>t 
 papa? Aujourd'hui, les baisers depapa! " 
 
 On this the French woman broke in, saying: " La petite 
 does not understand, and Mademoiselle Eve is very 
 difficile; she would kiss only her papa." 
 
 Then she went into a dissertation in broken but volu- 
 ble English, which she had learned in the family of the 
 American, to explain the dangers and discomforts of 
 the voyage. 
 
 To this Guernsey listened, scarcely heeding her, 
 delighted that the woman spoke sufficient English to 
 avoid the necessity of an interpreter, which might 
 have been inconvenient, for the market had not turned, 
 and he had been pondering for three weeks how he 
 should fulfill his stewardship to the dead man who had
 
 12 HER SENATOR. 
 
 trusted him, and had made up his mind that the only 
 thing to do for the children of Arthur Ellison was the 
 best thing for himself; and that was to treat them as if 
 they were paupers and had no financial claim upon 
 him whatsoever. 
 
 "If I gave them a little, some one would say: 
 1 Why does he give at all ? They must have some claim 
 upon him.' If I made a partial accounting, it might 
 be questioned in the courts. This is no case for half 
 measures. " 
 
 This resolve was easy to carry out from the peculiar 
 circumstances of the affair. 
 
 Ellison had been a cotton broker in New Orleans 
 and had married a beautiful Creole girl in that city. 
 Fleeing from the plague of yellow fever, which had 
 carried off all his wife's near relatives, he had sought 
 refuge in New York, bringing with him his spouse and 
 his daughter Evelyn, at that time his only child. 
 Three years after, having accumulated a few hundred 
 thousand dollars by lucky speculation, Ellison had 
 decided to leave business and pursue a life of leisure 
 in the French capital, his temperament being more 
 that of the artist than the business man. 
 
 In Paris, soon after the birth of his next child 
 Mathilde, his wife, who had never recovered entirely 
 from the slight attack of yellow fever she had con- 
 tracted in New Orleans, died. 
 
 Being a man of sedentary habits and devoted to an 
 amateur's pursuit of art, Ellison, as far as Guernsey 
 knew, had left but one intimate friend, himself, and 
 no near relatives. The children were practically in 
 his hands. Any letters from himself or documentary 
 evidence of the dead man's fortune had, so far as he 
 could discover, gone to the bottom of the Atlantic with 
 Ellison. Every other paper was in his (Guernsey's) 
 bands. He was free to act.
 
 HER SENATOR. 1 3 
 
 All this he had thought of often before, but he ran it 
 over again in his head as the French woman chattered 
 through her story. Then he turned to her and said : 
 "From your words I suppose you will not be sorry to 
 go back to France again. " 
 
 "del! Monsieur wishes me to return at once?" 
 replied the French woman, her eyes lighting up at the 
 thought of Paris. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "With the children?" 
 
 " No, they must remain here." 
 
 "But they love me. What shall I do away from 
 them in Paris? " 
 
 "Get married!" 
 
 " Married without a dot? Monsieur is un farceur" 
 
 " Not at all, " replied Guernsey. Then he went on to 
 explain to the woman that her dead employer had left, 
 by his will, the sum of five thousand francs to her for 
 her devotion to his family. " Though Monsieur Ellison 
 is, I am afraid, insolvent," he added. 
 
 "Insolvent! Man Dieu! Then I get nothzing," 
 muttered the French woman, tears coming into her 
 eyes. " And I had des espe'rances." 
 
 "You will not be disappointed. I am prepared to 
 advance the money to you and take the chance of 
 obtaining it from his estate," returned Guernsey 
 quietly; "as I think my dead friend would have 
 wished at least this provision in his will carried 
 out." 
 
 " But Monsieur always said he was rich." 
 
 " JFajrich! You understand ze ze bourse! "cried 
 the American, trying to give a Gallic roll of the 
 eyes to emphasize his use of the French word. 
 
 " Aha, les volleurs!" cried the bonne. 
 
 "But I have here a ticket for you on a steamer 
 leaving for France to-day, also a draft on Paris, unless
 
 14 HER SENATOR. 
 
 you would like it in gold, for the five thousand francs," 
 continued the speculator. 
 
 " I would prefer it in gold. Cinq mille francs. Que 
 de bonheur!" said the French woman eagerly, her eyes 
 lighting up; for into her mind had just flown the recol- 
 lection oithe bright face of a jovial French garcon, a 
 waiter, at one of the Paris cafes, who she knew would 
 be delighted to take her with a five-thousand-franc 
 dot for his wife. 
 
 Consequently within another hour, telling the 
 children she was sure they would be happy with 
 such a generous gentleman, and murmuring to herself 
 "Quelle veine!" Mademoiselle Marie Frontain, escorted 
 by one of Mr. Guernsey's clerks, was en route for a 
 steamship that left for Europe within four hours after 
 her arrival in New York. 
 
 Almost as the whisk of the bonne's skirts depart- 
 ing from the room grew faint in his ears, Guernsey 
 rang a bell and said nervously to the clerk who 
 answered it: " Has any one called to see me? " 
 
 " Nothing but the routine office business, sir." 
 
 " Very well, when the Reverend Mr. Mawley calls, 
 show him in to me at once. I expect him." 
 
 Then the clerk having gone out, the guardian and 
 executor turned his face toward his charges and 
 attempted in an elephantine manner to amuse them; 
 but the children looked at him astonished and did not 
 respond to his efforts at entertainment; for Guernsey 
 had forgotten how to amuse children, his only child, 
 James Bertram Guernsey, was already a youth of 
 twenty-one, and being a Yale man, had long since dis- 
 dained all childish frivolities. 
 
 ' ' I wish Jim were here, " thought the father. ' ' He's 
 always a good hand with the girls, and perhaps he 
 could come down to children." 
 
 Then looking at the two before him he muttered to
 
 HER SENATOR. 15 
 
 himself: "Good heavens! in a few years they will be 
 very beautiful. If I keep them by me, some day some 
 young men will ask them in marriage and perhaps sug- 
 gest an accounting. Mawley should be coming soon." 
 
 His jaw has set as he thought this, for, with Mawley's 
 arrival, Guernsey must burn his bridges behind him 
 every timber of them. After that discovery means 
 not only the contempt of mankind, but probably the 
 prison of the malefactor. 
 
 But gazing at the girls his purpose became fixed, es- 
 pecially as he noted the elder. Both were beautiful 
 very beautiful. The younger, Mathilde, was a child 
 of four, with hazel, trusting eyes and wavy chestnut 
 hair eyes that had in them a look of expectancy as 
 she murmured in childish voice, her little mouth draw- 
 ing down in baby pout: "Papa! You told me, Eve, I 
 should see mon papa! Sceur chMe, you said, aujour 
 d'hui, les baisers de papa." 
 
 To this the elder replied with a manner and serious 
 ness that astonished the man gazing at her, for she 
 was scarce ten years of age : " Mignonnette y ton papa'' 
 and the tears came into her eyes "will not come to 
 you to-day." Then she turned and leading him aside 
 whispered to Guernsey almost haughtily: "Monsieur, 
 I have been compelled to deceive my little sister. She 
 is very dear to me. I call her Mignonnette and she 
 calls me soeur chMe. I had not the heart to tell her 
 the truth. Papa! Oh, mon papa /" 
 
 Then the girl turned away her head and sobbed aw- 
 ful sobs for a child, for they were without tears, and 
 Guernsey for one moment repented of the cruel thing 
 that was in his mind to do, for the little maid was very 
 beautiful now; but yet more lovely in promise. Her 
 form was of course childish, but gave presage of ex- 
 quisite grace. Her skin was fair with that ivory- 
 like transparency peculiar to the most exquiwte
 
 1 6 HER SENATOR. 
 
 blonde beauty ; her eyes were blue, not perchance the 
 trustful blue, but the brilliant sapphire. The sparkle 
 of a budding intellect gave them piquancy, though they 
 showed a mind that would in time perhaps be too strong 
 for soft womanly beauty, did not her mobile features 
 varying with every emotion make spiritual, her 
 delicate face a face that was saddened now; for 
 the girl had evidently suffered with a precocity be- 
 yond her years for the loss of her dead father whose 
 body the Atlantic had taken to its depths forever. 
 
 But even as Guernsey repented, what the girl said 
 made him not dare to repent. She turned and spoke 
 to him in a voice and manner beyond her years, whis- 
 pering these words of awful import to his scheme: "I 
 heard you tell Marie my father was insolvent. Isn't 
 that the word for being very poor? I have forgotten, 
 monsieur, some of my English. " 
 
 " It is, my pet," answered Guernsey with a choking 
 voice, turning his head away, but giving a sudden start 
 as Mademoiselle Eve replied : 
 
 "That is not true! Papa told me he was rich; he 
 had dividends. He showed me letters from you with 
 dividends ! " 
 
 "Dividends!" snarled the guardian, "What does a 
 child like you know about dividends ? " Then he tried 
 to be facetious, patting the little one on the head and 
 saying: " What does Sissy know about dividends ? " 
 
 " I know they are money," answered the child pre- 
 cociously, "Money to spend money to buy clothes 
 with. This dress was bought by dividends ! " 
 
 And looking at its graceful folds, the sombre crape 
 bringing home her loss, the little one muttered: "I 
 am dressed in black because papa is dead," then sud- 
 denly cried: " Papa's letter the one he wrote tome 
 from England! " 
 
 With this, producing from the bosom ^* her gown a
 
 HER SENATOR. 17 
 
 letter, the very handwriting of which sent a thrill of 
 horror through Guernsey, who recognized the chiro- 
 graphy of his dead friend, little Evelyn Ellison read in 
 childish tones, with now and then a falter over some 
 word more difficult than the rest, the following, that 
 told her listener he must have no mercy to her, to save 
 himself: 
 "Mv DARLING DAUGHTER: 
 
 Papa leaves to-morrow morning to sail across the ocean 
 from you. He sends many kisses both to you and little 
 Mathilde. Give Mignonette many kisses for me, be good to her, 
 and guard her as you always have, like a little mother for 
 God has taksn yours away. If the chances of travel or the 
 cruel ocean should never let papa see you again, papa will still 
 know his little daughters are provided for. His old friend 
 Mr. Guernsey has in his hands ample fortune for you belonging 
 to your loving father, who kisses you a thousand times and will 
 telegraph his little daughters from the other side of the Atlantic. 
 With many kisses, once more, 
 
 Your doting papa, 
 
 ARTHUR M. ELLISON. 
 
 P.S. Keep this letter and remember Overhand Guernsey's 
 address, 64 Exchange Place, New York City." 
 
 " Read it yourself," said the little one holding the 
 letter trustfully towards him. " You are Mr. Guern- 
 sey; you know papa was rich." 
 
 " Was rich, my child," said the speculator taking 
 the letter from her hand, the characters of which 
 seemed to him his condemnation and the end of all his 
 scheme. "Was rich. Don't get foolish ideas into 
 your little head," and he patted the liitle girl's curls ; 
 then suddenly tossed the paper into the burning grate. 
 
 With a cry the child sprang forward trying to catch 
 it with her delicate hands; but the flames driving her 
 from it, she sobbed: "Papa's last words! What he 
 told me to keep! All I had to love him by till I see 
 him in Heaven!" Then Hunching her little hands,and
 
 18 HER SENATOR. 
 
 darting flashes of fire from her blue eyes upon this 
 thief of her birthright and destroyer of her father's 
 message of farewell she cried, "Vous etes un mttchant ! " 
 and stamped her little feet and muttered, "Vilain ! 
 Miserable ! " 
 
 At this moment a clerk announced the Reverend 
 Mr. Jonas Mawley. 
 
 "Aha! my dear Mr. Guernsey," said a voice that 
 would have been jovial had it not been wheedling, and a 
 fat-faced, broad-chested, well-fed, unctuous gentleman 
 in clerical black was shown in. 
 
 "Ah, my dear Mr. Guernsey!" And in another 
 second two flabby hands have seized the speculator's 
 digits and have cuddled, petted and let them go 
 caressingly as Mawley runs on; "I was delighted to 
 get your letter. I said to Mrs. Mawley, 'This means a 
 subscription for the Home.' It is from Guernsey the 
 capitalist; Guernsey whose name is great in finance, 
 but greater in the church." 
 
 " I haven't been to church for five years," answered 
 the Wall street man shortly. 
 
 " No, but you'll subscribe just the same; and you'll 
 go I know you mean to go to church some day." 
 Here the Reverend Mawley put his hat upon the table, 
 seated himself coolly and continued: "I won't go 
 without a subscription! I know that's why you seat 
 for me you dear old capitalist. " 
 
 "What! during this financial upheaval ? " 
 
 " How will the Home, how will the orphans live ? 
 Children will eat, children must be fed, even if there 
 are financial disturbances! Ah! children here! come 
 darlings How I love children!" 
 
 With that, reaching out one flabby hand, the Rev- 
 erend Jonas, despite a little cry, seized upon the petite 
 Mathilde and sat her on his lap giving her two oily 
 kisses.
 
 HER SENATOR. 19 
 
 "Don't 'ou do it don't 'ou kiss me dose kisses 
 are papa's ! " screamed the child. 
 
 "I always kiss children," guffawed the Reverend 
 Jonas. " It is a part of my ministerial duties." 
 
 "Mathilde does not like strangers," said the elder 
 girl coldly, and without apology lifted her sister from 
 the reverend gentleman's lap. Then she looked him 
 over and said with the wondrous insight of childish 
 ^yes: "You don't look like a minister! " 
 
 At which the Rev. Jonas Mawley grinned sardonic- 
 ally and muttered: "This ungodly girl has evidently 
 been brought up among people who are not acquainted 
 with the church." But all the same he writhed at the 
 child's remark, which had struck very close to his 
 flabby yet fishy heart, for the Reverend Jonas had 
 dubbed himself reverend for charitable purposes, never 
 having been ordained by the Church of God, though 
 possibly he might have received his orders from the 
 church of the devil. Charity and godliness did not 
 belong to him, neither did the garb of the Church nor 
 the right to preach Christ crucified all had been 
 assumed as part of his business as -philanthropist and 
 head of the Shepherd's Fold. Therefore his eyes were 
 not pleasant as he turned them upon Mile. Evelyn 
 Ellison, who, being a stout-hearted little lady, gave 
 the Rev. Jonas a haughty flash in return one that 
 would, perchance, cost her dear in the near future. 
 
 Into this scene Mr. Guernsey cuts, remarking: " Not- 
 withstanding I didn't send for you with the idea of 
 subscribing to your Home, still, Mr. Mawley, I wished 
 to see you on a matter of business which involves a 
 little money." 
 
 "Ah! Money!" 
 
 " But only a little money." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 Then taking him aside Guernsey continued in an
 
 20 HER SENATOR. 
 
 undertone: "These two children are daughters of an 
 unfortunate speculator who died a pauper." 
 
 "They are very well dressed," answered Mr. Maw- 
 ley, noting the exquisite garments that clothed the two 
 children. " That crape is of the richest four dollars 
 a yard if it's a York shilling. Those stockings are real 
 silk at least three dollars a pair." 
 
 "Yes; he was a man who lived rich to die poor , as a 
 good many of us do in Wall street. I knew him at 
 one time quite well," answered the guardian, "and as 
 no one else can do anything for them, and as I can do 
 but little, I have sent for you in order to put them in 
 your Fold. " 
 
 "Aha! The Shepherd's Fold! " and the eyes of Mr. 
 Mawley gleamed. 
 
 " I can afford to pay you one hundred dollars a year 
 for each one of them. It is entirely a charity. Will 
 you take them ?" muttered the financier, his eyes upon 
 the floor. 
 
 "Won't I?" said the Rev. Mr. Mawley, his face 
 lighting up. "A hundred dollars a year for each? 
 God bless your noble heart, you philanthropist ! " 
 
 Then had he not turned away suddenly with perhaps 
 a little shudder, for his conscience was smiting him, 
 hard and strong, Guernsey might perchance have re- 
 ceived a kiss of peace from the Rev. Jonas. 
 
 " I suppose, of course, the clothes the children have 
 on and all their other belongings go with them ? " 
 asked Mawley eagerly. 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "What have they got?" 
 
 " I don't know. Their two trunks of clothing have 
 just come from Paris with them." 
 
 "Ah! What they wear is very fine. Too fine 
 altogether for my home. We have a uniform there. 
 It is not well for little girls to think they are rich when
 
 HER SENATOR. 41 
 
 they are poor, and be educated to the lusts of the flesh 
 and superfine raiment," remarked Jonas meditatively, 
 for at this moment he was calculating how much the 
 beautiful French dresses of the little girls would bring 
 in cash of the United States, that Evelyn's silk stock- 
 ings and Paris boots could be turned into dollars, and 
 that perchance the trunks of these children contained 
 a few ornaments even unto jewels. Then his eyes 
 grew downcast as he cogitated: "Undoubtedly 
 Guernsey, who is a sharp fellow, has gathered in the 
 jewelry. Perhaps it is the proceeds of this he is giving 
 me." 
 
 But Guernsey had not thought of jewelry. He was 
 not a small thief, he would not rob the children of any 
 little knick-knacks that might be theirs. He had a soul 
 above such petty meannesses. 
 
 He would simply swindle them out of their birth- 
 right, their place in the world, their chance of being 
 happy, yea perhaps even good women, but no small 
 thieving for Overhand Guernsey, the director in banks 
 and stockholder in big companies. 
 
 Mawley was of different mould. He would confis- 
 cate a baby's jewelry and its little body likewise. 
 
 " Then the matter is arranged," muttered the exe- 
 cutor. Next ringing, he ordered a carriage for Mr. 
 Mawley and added : " You will excuse me now, I am 
 very busy," for he wanted to get his victims out of 
 his sight. 
 
 "Very well," replied the Reverend Jonas; "the 
 two hundred dollars in advance?" 
 
 "Certainly!" returned Guernsey, and sat down to 
 write a check. 
 
 As he did so, Mawley advanced authoritatively to 
 the little girls and said: " My pets, come with me! " 
 
 Something in his eyes seemed to inspire the children 
 with distrust. The younger fled to the corner of the
 
 32 HER SENATOR. 
 
 room with a little cry, the elder turned and said 
 haughtily but politely: "I shall not go with you, 
 Monsieur! " 
 
 ' ' This must be cut short ! " The speculator handed his 
 check to Mr. Mawley and remarked to the girls. " As 
 your guardian I have placed you at school with this 
 1 gentleman. You must be obedient to him, be good 
 children, learn your lessons and do as he tells you." 
 Then he said soothingly, "Evelyn dear, here are 
 two nice dollar bills. Mr. Mawley will take you 
 both to lunch. You shall pay for some bonbons with 
 them." 
 
 "Bonbons," cried the four year old. "Bonbons, 
 you are a goo-goo man! Evie, bonbons!" 
 
 Here to Guernsey's embarrassment, Mademoiselle 
 Evie remarked haughtily, "I need not trouble you, 
 Monsieur; m:,n cher papa left me pocket money when 
 he kissed me adieu," and she produced a handsome 
 silver-mounted monogramed porte-monnaie. Mawley's 
 gloating eyes noted that it was well filled with 
 golden twenty franc pieces as the little lady added in 
 formal voice and demoiselle dignity, "We will accom- 
 pany you to a restaurant, Monsieur, since Mignonnette 
 wants bonbons, and I am hungry." 
 
 " I'll take your two dollars for future bonbons. Eh, 
 philanthropist?" laughed Mawley, and with that the 
 flabby autocrat of "The Shepherd's Fold" departed 
 with his little charges, leaving Guernsey alone with a 
 conscience that was not altogether dead within him, 
 and produced almost immediately, an astonishing sur- 
 prise for the Reverend Mr. Mawley. 
 
 The office door had scarcely closed, the financier had 
 sunk into a chair and clasped his head wearily with 
 his hands, when suddenly something seemed to arouse 
 him to instantaneous tremendous action. 
 
 Perchance it was a faint cry from the little lady of
 
 HER SENATOR. 23 
 
 the portc-monnaie, perchance it was the scream of his 
 conscience. He sprang up, threw open his office door, 
 flew into the hall, seized Mawley by the throat and 
 dragged him back into his office. "You infernal 
 scoundrel," he hissed, "if I ever hear of your laying a 
 hand upon one of those children, I'll break every bone 
 in your cursed body! " 
 
 "I I was only taking the pocket-book from Evie 
 to pay for the lunch. She is a very obstinate child," 
 stammered the astounded Jonas. "The hand of chas- 
 tisement " 
 
 "Very well, only don't forget what I have said to 
 you. If I ever hear of the hand of chastisement fall- 
 ing upon these two children, my hand shall fall upon 
 you. Remember that! " 
 
 "I will remember," said the Master of The Shep- 
 herd's Fold. "I will remember, dear Mr. Guernsey, 
 as long as you do not forget to send me the two hun- 
 dred dollars yearly." 
 
 With this he departed, and the financier, anxious to 
 get the matter out of his mind, devoted himself to his 
 letters and telegrams. One of these was from his 
 son at college, and read : 
 
 " DEAR POP : Telegraph me five hundred instantly. You 
 cannot imagine how much it costs to be a Yale man. 
 
 JIM." 
 
 "My noble boy! " said the father; "a rare harum- 
 scarum, dashing, boy-will-be-boy kind of a boy," and 
 telegraphed the money. 
 
 Then trying to keep other people's children out of 
 his head he busied himself in his speculations, but the 
 market did not turn, and day by day grew more disas- 
 trous to his fortunes. 
 
 So in the great panic of the succeeding Sep- 
 tember, among the list of those gone to the wall, 
 busted, ruined by the fall of Northern Pacific,
 
 24 HER SENATOR. 
 
 Western Union, real estate, and everything else, whose 
 speculative value had been boomed upwards and 
 upwards, higher and higher since the end of the war, 
 was the name of Overhand Guernsey. 
 
 The only thing left to him in the world was the five 
 hundred shares of Consolidated Virginia, that none of 
 his creditors knew he owned, the stock being in the 
 name of a trustee. 
 
 With these shares in his possession, Guernsey left 
 New York and betook himself to the West; and the 
 stock market being vivacious in California, wrestled 
 with mining speculation in San Francisco until in 1875 
 the great boom in Consolidated Virginia took place. 
 
 Being of a double or nothing nature, this gentleman 
 bought more stock in the Bonanza Mines, and in the 
 course of that year found himself about five hundred 
 thousand dollars to the good. 
 
 Then having grown cautious in speculation, with a 
 portion of this money he purchased, in one of the terri- 
 tories touching on the Rocky Mountains, a large cattle 
 range, and located himself thereon, building a ranch 
 house and making for himself a summer home. 
 
 During these years Guernsey had said to himself 
 whenever he had thought about the matter, which had 
 been seldom: "If the market turns, I will do some- 
 thing for the children." 
 
 One day it suddenly flashed upon him he had for- 
 gotten to send Mawley the stipend agreed upon, and 
 chancing to be in New York he thought he would visit 
 The Shepherd's Fold to see how well the two helpless 
 ones had fared in the grip of the philanthropist.
 
 HER SENATOR. 25 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE SHEPHERD'S FOLD. 
 
 ON the same day that Mr. Overhand Guernsey's 
 conscience came into prominence once more in regard 
 to the children of the dead man who had trusted him, 
 on the outskirts of rapidly-growing New York, there 
 stood a two-story house in the midst of a tumble-down, 
 decayed, yet spacious, garden. Immediately at its 
 back ran a newly-opened street without sidewalk or 
 paving. Conspicuously above its entrance was in- 
 scribed: "The Shepherd's Fold." 
 
 Within it lived the Rev. Jonas Mawley and his un- 
 happy charges, the flotsam and jetsam of a great city, 
 whom he had gathered in to enable him to obtain State 
 funds, and permit him to put upon his Board of Direc- 
 tors the names of men high in the Church, strong 
 in philanthropy, and potent in affairs; but such busy 
 men that no one of them could give personal attention 
 or supervision to the institution ; men who as a com- 
 mittee visited it once a year pro forma for a few minutes, 
 and who could not conceive of a creature base enough to 
 use philanthropy as a profession by which to fatten his 
 flabby body on food literally torn from the despairing 
 mouths of suffering yet helpless childhood. 
 
 It was growing towards the evening of this day, when 
 to the sound of a bell in a large apartment within this 
 house, there marched in from the school room in pre- 
 cise order, two by two for the Reverend Mr. Mawley 
 was a stickler as to school etiquette most of the chil- 
 dren of the institution. 
 
 First the younger ones, some of them scarce old 
 enough or strong enough to toddle in, then children of
 
 2 6 HER SENATOR. 
 
 gradually increasing years, until the last who entered 
 was a girl of seventeen, though her dress was that of s. 
 child also, for they all wore the uniform of the institu- 
 tion, the girls being in gowns of neutral color, cheap 
 material and a scant cut that showed a large amount 
 of tissuey white stockings upon legs that grew gradually 
 thinner according to the length of time their owner had 
 been in the institution ; the only robust pair belong- 
 ing to a girl of fourteen who had been just recruited 
 from the Bowery where morality was scarce but pro- 
 visions at times plentiful. These white stockings ended 
 in feet shod in flimsy slippers. 
 
 Ranging themselves on the sides of the long, bare 
 table without a cloth, each sat upon the wooden form 
 in front of her own plate and cup. The plate had a 
 little piece of bread upon it, the cup contained milk 
 and water, chiefly water, as one cup of condensed milk 
 only was used for each meal in the institution. This 
 time, something like twenty children clustering about 
 the board, twenty cups of lukewarm water had been 
 added to drown the milk. But unappetizing as this 
 fare was, their hungry stomachs yearned for it, their 
 hungry eyes devoured it, their eager hands were 
 stretched toward it. Every little one wished that it 
 were more! 
 
 Suddenly the eldest girl, with a faint exclamation of 
 horror, rushed at a toddler of five, crying: "Sallie, 
 don't dare to eat until Mr. Mawley has said grace ! " 
 For the little one had suddenly fallen upon her piece 
 of bread and was devouring it with a hungry, wolfish 
 expression on her pale yet pretty face. 
 
 " Not a mouthful, please not a mouthful until after 
 grace ! " said the girl in charge in an awe-struck tone ; 
 for the Shepherd was wont to hold her responsible for 
 the shortcomings in regard to the discipline or deport- 
 ment of the flock if he was away; and Mr. Mawley be-
 
 HER SENATOR. 27 
 
 lieved with Solomon, "Spare the rod and spoil the 
 child," as Annie Graham, who was trying to keep 
 little Sallie's impatient teeth from her bread, very well 
 knew and understood. 
 
 "Oh, quit yer foolin', and let her eat her grub," 
 cried the fresh voice of Molly, the new girl, who had 
 just been rescued from the slums and plenty of the 
 Bowery, and placed in the famishing goodness of The 
 Shepherd's Fold. Then, to the dismay of the others, 
 this new import, whose spirit had not yet been crushed 
 by hard fare and stern discipline, scoffed: "Here the 
 old bloke comes! " 
 
 With this a hush fell upon the assembly. Annie 
 sprang quickly to her place, and every eye was turned up- 
 on the entrance, over which, in hideous mockery and cruel 
 sarcasm, was placarded the motto : ' ' Feed my lambs ! " 
 
 Beneath this inscription came in the Rev. Jonas 
 Mawley, perchance a little more plump and a little 
 more oily than the day, three years before, when he 
 had taken into his hands the two little waifs from 
 Paris. As he entered, his smooth voice said in com- 
 plaisant tones: "Restrain your appetites, my pets, 
 until after grace." 
 
 Then, standing at the head of the table, he command- 
 ed shortly, with the air of a pedagogue: " Stand up! " 
 
 And the children all rose and recited in unison: 
 "We thank thee, Heavenly Father, for the bounteous 
 and luxurious meal our good guardian, Dr. Mawley, 
 has prepared for us. " 
 
 With a soft wave of the hand the philanthropist 
 remarked: "All may partake!" And so they did 
 like ravening wolves, not like little children. 
 
 "Mattie!" Mawley's voice was imperative. 
 
 Every child awed by the Shepherd's mighty tones, 
 paused and looked at him but one; this one faltered: 
 "My name isn't Mattie; it's Mathilde!"
 
 28 HR SENATOR. 
 
 "It's what I chose to call you!" answered Mr. 
 Mawley, savagely. Then he continued, rolling his 
 fishy orbs upon the little girl who had not seated her- 
 self and was standing with wistful eyes and little lips 
 twisted with disappointed appetite: " Mathilde I 
 mean Mattie, why did you not say grace? " 
 
 "Because I ain't a going to have anything to eat," 
 said the child solemnly, pointing to her empty plate 
 and empty cup. 
 
 "Ha, ha! You have been disobedient, insubordinate. 
 You have not learned your lessons well!" remarked 
 the man of grace, throwing his eyes once more upon 
 the youngest child of the dead Ellison, whose pouting 
 mouth is now thin and drawn, and no longer chubby and 
 infantile, whose eyes are large, though there is no 
 smile in them, and the little figure which has increased 
 only in height, has no more the rounded outlines of 
 a well nurtured growth but is a veritable ghost of 
 childhood 
 
 "My saeur chtrie my sister!" murmured the little 
 one. 
 
 "Your sister has gone for medicine for the sick 
 child below: She couldn't fill your naughty stomach 
 for you could she, you little pampered thing! " sneered 
 Mawley. Then he uttered in awful tone: "Stop 
 whimpering!" for Mathilde has sent into the air a 
 faint wail. 
 
 Next, perchance to get the child's pleading eyes 
 from looking into his, the shepherd picked her up, 
 gave her a savage shake and stood her in a corner. 
 
 Then turning, he said : "Annie ! " and as the oldest 
 of the flock approached him, a wary readiness in her 
 demeanor to dodge any swinging slap that might come 
 upon her unawares, remarked: "I leave you in charge. 
 Be careful! You know me. I can be severe as well 
 as kind. Mattie is to eat nothing / I expect the Com-
 
 HER SENATOR. 20 
 
 mittee this afternoon to make an inspection. Let all 
 the children finish their supper quickly. I don't wish 
 the Committee to see them eat." 
 
 With this, motioning Annie to his place at the head 
 of the table, the Rev. Jonas Mawley, attracted by the 
 pleasant odors of a bounteous supper that awaits him 
 below, departs from the room, and restraint goes with 
 him. Mollie, the waif from the Bowery, cries sar- 
 donically: "Yes, if the Committee saw this starve, 
 it would be a give-away! Why, a Baxter Street all- 
 night house would turn up its nose at such a meal 
 as this." 
 
 "Silence, Mollie," says Annie pathetically. Then 
 she utters sneeringly: "Remember, you are but two 
 days out of the gutter!" For even in this home of 
 misery, the jealousy and pride of petty humanity had 
 not been altogether starved out of it. These vices can 
 subsist upon the smallest rations. 
 
 "And you bet I'm going back to the gutter again the 
 first chance I get," answered the recalcitrant Mollie. 
 
 Upon this the shrill voice of the little tot Sallie 
 comes in baby tones pleadingly: " My bread's all gone 
 and I'm so hungry yet." 
 
 To which the tough creature from the Bowery re- 
 marks: "So's mine, and I'm empty as a dance-house 
 after it's been pulled." Then she goes on in a voice of 
 such stridency that it makes Annie shudder: " They 
 call this the infant's home," and cries out these hideous 
 words, "Say! Has any more infants died since last 
 night ?" 
 
 "Hush, Mollie, be careful Mr. Mawley "gasps 
 
 the affrighted one in charge. 
 
 But here a voice comes to them that makes Annie 
 and all the rest start. It is from little Mathilde, who 
 falters, turning eyes big with suffering upon them: 
 "Something to eat to keep me from dying!"
 
 3 HER SENATOR. 
 
 Even in its misery, even in its hunger, even despite 
 its dread of Mawley, childhood, generous childhood, 
 would give her from its insufficiency. 
 
 "I tarn't I've bolted mine," sobs little Sallie. 
 
 "And I've bolted mine, too; but here's Annie's," 
 cries the Bowery importation, seizing the elder girl s 
 morsel. 
 
 But before Mollie can be generous with Annie's food, 
 there is a whisk of short calico skirts and a child of 
 strangely tragic demeanor, with flashing eyes and burn, 
 ing cheeks comes running in and whispers: " My sister 
 Mathilde for you, Mignonnette ! for you /" And 
 Mathilde is in the land of plenty. 
 
 "Why it's it's cakeV she cries, her brown eyes 
 big with astonishment, as she crunches her white teeth 
 greedily upon what has been given her. "Oh, my! 
 sceur chtric you have brought me pie\" she murmurs, 
 and bolts another piece. 
 
 "Great Five Points!" screams the Bowery girl, " if 
 French Eva isn't giving her sister sweet things. Where 
 did you get 'em ? Did you hook 'em when you went 
 out for the medicine ? Oh, Ginger! there's enough to 
 go round!" 
 
 "There's only enough for the little ones," answers 
 Evelyn Ellison. "Vicns t'ci, pauvre Sally." And the 
 girl calls the blue-eyed waif to her and gives her pie 
 also, as well as some endearing Paris phrases, the use 
 of which has gained for her the soubriquet by which 
 Mollie of the Bowery has addressed her. 
 
 This nick-name is not without reason ; for Evelyn's 
 manner has still some of the Gallic grace the little 
 maid had brought with her from Paris. Clad though 
 she is in cheap calico, its short skirts giving her an ap- 
 parent ungainly length of limb, there is a certain dain- 
 tiness about her. Her dress has no spot or stain upon 
 it, her stockings white, after t'-s fashion of that day are
 
 ER SENATOR. 31 
 
 like snow, her hair long, waving and sunny, floats about 
 her like a halo of gold, confined by a little blue ribbon 
 God knows how she got it! Above all this the girl 
 has an air of distinction, perchance even a certain 
 amount oichic about her, notwithstanding her surround- 
 ings have brought upon her face precocity and unnat- 
 ural sadness. Her great blue eyes have those same 
 perpetual welling tears behind them that have made 
 the picture of Beatrice Cenci immortal, in its unearthly 
 yet sublimely beautiful despair. Her poses, though 
 crude, give promise of a growing grace that even the 
 privations of these last years have not effaced; but 
 each of them is dominated by an astonishing self-com- 
 mand, one born of constant self-repression, for this 
 girl's life for years has been one continual struggle 
 to take sorrow from off her little sister unto herself. 
 
 Even as she speaks the last words, her French 
 vivacity of movement comes to her, for Evelyn is com- 
 pelled to defend the two little ones from the hands of 
 older children seeking to seize their morsels of tempt- 
 ing food food that has sweetness in it food that 
 makes the mouths of Mawley's half-starved proteges 
 water with longing. 
 
 "There is no more! " Eve says at last. "You are 
 hungry I am hungry, we are all hungry, but it was 
 for Mignonnette, my sister and la petite Sal lie. That's 
 why 1 did /'//" 
 
 " Did what ? " gasps Annie, fearing the delinquency 
 of the other may fall upon her. 
 
 "Never you mind what, I DID IT!" answers the 
 girl. Then she murmers: "del! J'aifaim. Have you 
 no bread and milk for me?" 
 
 " No, I I ate yours," says Annie falteringly. 
 
 With this the girl puts her hands up to her pale face 
 and mutters a subdued " Miserable ! how could you! 
 when when I have had nothing ? " Waning against
 
 3* HER SENATOR. 
 
 the table weak from hunger and disappointment 
 
 "Why I I supposed of course you had filled your 
 own stomach with pie and cake before you brought it 
 to any one else ?" stammers Annie. 
 
 " You would! " answers the other. 
 
 But here she utters a scream of amazement, for 
 Bowery Mollie with a sudden howl of rage has cried : 
 "You nasty thieving glutton!" and has fallen upon 
 Annie hand and foot. And the two girls combat with 
 one another, Annie after the feminine manner, with 
 teeth and nails, and the other after the more scientific 
 pugilistic methods she has seen in vogue at surrepti- 
 tious visits to The. Allen's and Harry Hill's. 
 
 Being less famished as well as more scientific, Mollie 
 is getting the best of it, when into the scene strides 
 Mawley, an awful look in his eye. 
 
 "What is this? Fighting! Unchristian conduct!" 
 he ejaculates, and boxes Annie and Mollie around the 
 room to their places; then commands sternly, " Come 
 to position ! " 
 
 At his word, the children scramble to their places at 
 the table all save Evelyn, who stands apart holding 
 her sister's hand, as the philanthropist, in severe voice, 
 remarks philosophically: "This insubordination alj 
 comes from over-eating. It makes you bilious, and 
 biliousness is the root of all evil. Half rations for the 
 rest of the week!" 
 
 This speech is effective hellishly effective! 
 
 A sigh that is half moan comes to him from the 
 helpless ones standing around the table. And Annie, 
 who had been made a sycophant and coward through 
 years of continued repression, bursts forth : " It wasn't 
 us, sir! It was Mattie and French Eva! " 
 
 "Aha, Mattie!" remarks the Shepherd, and turns 
 fishy eyes upon the little girl. " Mattie, the naughty 
 gourmand, the sulky child! " Then suddenly he gives
 
 HER SENATOR. 33 
 
 a start of horror and ejaculates: " God bless my soul! 
 Mattie looks fatter ; " next throwing investigating eyes 
 upon the floor, cries out: " Crumbs! You have been 
 eating!" As if this was the most horrible crime in 
 childhood's decalogue. 
 
 "I couldn't help it, 'deed I couldn't, sir! " shudders 
 Annie, who fears she has brought condemnation upon 
 herself. 
 
 But at this moment a matron, who would be comely 
 were she not severe in expression, enters the room. It 
 is Mrs. Patience Mawley, the wife of the Shepherd, 
 who remarks to him excitedly, "Jonas! " 
 
 And he turns and whispers, "My angel!" kissing 
 her very tenderly. 
 
 But she breaks out eagerly: " I want Annie instantly. 
 That sick child be'ow has got the fever." 
 
 "The fever! when I expect an inspection from the 
 committee to-day," moans the Reverend Jonas; then 
 mutters threateningly under his voice, "Wait until she 
 gets well!" 
 
 But his wife interjects, " If she is to get well I 
 must send Annie for the doctor." 
 
 "Then let it be the .y#0/ one ; you understand--! 
 don't like strange doctors; they sometimes make 
 hideous mistakes," grumbles the Shepherd. 
 
 His spouse echoes his idea, saying: "Yes, one actu- 
 ally said a child here died from lack of proper nourish- 
 ment." 
 
 "Couldn't tell the difference between starvation and 
 measles," whines the Reverend Jonas. 
 
 "But I will send for the old one, my love," whispers 
 his spouse; "do not fear. And the newsboys are 
 down stairs. " 
 
 "Oh, the newsboys! Ah, yes!" murmurs Mawley 
 placidly. ' 'The tvvo/a/or.es I selected to show to the com- 
 mittee to-dav." Then he commands, "Annie, send the
 
 34 HER SENATOR. 
 
 boys up ! After that, quick as you can, to the doctor's. " 
 
 With a hurried and timid "Yes, sir," Annie Graham 
 slips from the room, anxious to get away from the 
 presence of this man, who is her dread by day and her 
 horror by night, for she dreams of Mr. Mawley's pun- 
 ishments; even in her sleep, making night hideous to 
 her unfortunate companion by her wild cries for mercy 
 as she tosses upon her pallet bed. 
 
 A moment after, two fat, round, chubby-faced Arabs 
 of the street stride complacently in, with bundles of 
 evening papers under their arms, and look about them 
 with the unaffected complacency produced by a child- 
 hood whose rugged life upon the streets has given 
 them the self-confidence of manhood aye, even more, 
 the cheek of the newsboy. 
 
 "Say, boss," says Jakie, who is number one of the 
 duo, "what do you want of us? Have a paper?" 
 Then he raises up his voice in strident cry: "Telegram, 
 News, Evening Sun all about the battle of Plevna! " 
 
 Upon this Sammy, the second of the duet, screams: 
 " Extree extra! Osmond Pasha a-butchering the Rus- 
 sen wounded! Schoboleft a-fightin' of Mm too the 
 death ! Massarnr* of the Bosphorous ! " 
 
 The din they make is so unendurable that Mrs. Maw- 
 ley, placing her plump hands to her ears, cries out: 
 "Good Heavens, stop that noise!" 
 
 But the Reverend Mr. Mawley replies soothingly, ' 'No, 
 Siy darling boys, I want you to dress in the uniform of 
 this institution and answer certain questions some gen- 
 tlemen will put to you in the course of an hour or so." 
 
 "Any money in the job?" remarks Jakie with the 
 air of a man of business. 
 
 "Yes, fifty cents a piece." 
 
 " Then we can do Wood's Museum to-night, Sammy, 
 and I'll go you a pint of peanuts between acts," says 
 the young financier generously.
 
 HER SENATOR. 35 
 
 " It's a go," assents Sammy. 
 
 "Then come, my dears, and get your uniform on," 
 says Mrs. Mawley placidly. 
 
 But while this has been going on the boys have been 
 using their eyes; the unnatural gloom of the place, the 
 pallor of the drawn faces about Mawley 's inhospitable 
 board has impressed itself upon the denizens of an 
 outer and a happier world. A horrible thrill of sus- 
 picion flies through their precocious minds. They 
 gaze at the unhappy faces and gaunt forms of those 
 who wear the uniform of Mawley. 
 
 "Say," remarks the elder, "This ain't no dodge 
 to make paupers out of us? If so we mizzle," and the 
 two boys get together in pugilistic attitude to prevent 
 any force being used to detain them. 
 
 "Only for half an hour," utters Mawley soothingly. 
 "Square?" says Sammy, suspiciously. 
 "Of course, my dears; you are speaking to a 
 minister," remarks Mrs. Mawley. 
 
 Whereupon Jakie assents: "That's perpendicular! 
 But we want it in advance two half dollars ! " 
 
 And Mr. Mawley after searching in his pocket for 
 the coins, produces them and pays him. 
 
 During this, Sammy, who is a very round faced 
 plump vender of news, has drawn near blue-eyed 
 Sallie, who has reached out her little hand and cau- 
 tiously pinched his arm. "What's the matter, shrimp?" 
 says the urchin with a guffaw. 
 "Why why you're fat! " 
 
 "Well, what of that, sissy?" queries the news boy. 
 "Why, I never, never saw a fat boy before," says 
 the little girl, her eyes growing big with astonishment. 
 For she had been brought up in the institution and 
 fatness in men as exemplified by Mr. Mawley seems 
 natural to her, but that children should be well fed 
 and plump, out of the very course of nature itself.
 
 36 HER SENATOR. 
 
 " Cracky! " cries Jakie, laughingly. 
 
 And Sammy, pointing down to her, guffaws: " Never 
 saw a fat boy before. Here's five cents for you, sis," 
 giving her a nickel, at which the little girl utters a cry 
 of delight, for it is the first coin she has ever had in 
 her little life, either to play with or to spend. 
 
 But this scene has grown embarrassing both to Mrs. 
 Mawley and her husband, though the latter has at- 
 tempted to regard it as a joke and has guffawed louder 
 even than the newsboys. 
 
 "Come down stairs and earn your coins now 
 you have got them,' remarks his spouse; and the 
 two products of liberty go down with stamping 
 feet and merry yells of laughter, leaving the chil- 
 dren of philanthropic Mawley looking after them, 
 astounded that there is such happiness within the 
 world.
 
 HER SENATOR. 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 "i SOLD THE BIBLE!" 
 
 "WHAT fine, fat lads to show to the Committee," 
 murmurs the reverend gentleman rubbing one hand 
 over the other in unctuous bliss. "And now to busi- 
 ness! " this last more sternly. "But first come here, 
 Sallie, my child," beckoning the little one to him, who 
 approaches reluctantly. "Come here! " with a stamp 
 of his foot, as the child shudderingly goes to him. Then 
 his voice becomes unctuous and soft again. "That 
 boy gave you a coin. Give it to me. Remember, 
 money buys candy and candy produces biliousness, 
 which is bad for little girls. Give it here ! " And tak- 
 ing the little fist that clenches closely the first coin of 
 Sallie's life, Mr. Mawley despoils the child of her first 
 present, and she goes sobbingly back to her seat, while 
 the philanthropist's voice, growing very stern, com- 
 mands: "Now to discipline! Look me in the eye!" 
 and his gaze seems to fascinate them all. " Who gave 
 Mathilde their provisions ? Who gave ? " 
 
 To this some of the children falteringly gasp: " It 
 was French Eva and Mollie and Sallie." 
 
 "That's a lie! I didn't give her my provisions, 
 I gave her Annie's provisions," mutters Miss Bowery 
 doggedly. 
 
 "Deceit and prevarication! Do you ever expect to 
 go to heaven ? 
 
 "On this grub," answers the product of the streets, 
 savagely, "I'll go to heaven in about a week!" 
 
 Whereupon something unpleasant would have hap- 
 pened to her, for Mawley has muttered, "Insolence!" 
 and has reached out his chastising hand, did not at this
 
 38 HER SENATOR. 
 
 moment his spouse reappear again saying excitedly: 
 " Jonas, a letter from the Committee! " 
 
 Opening it, the Shepherd's face grows radiant. 
 1 ' From our dear philanthropic Committee. They are all 
 too busy, they write me, to inspect the institution," he 
 murmurs; then raising his voice remarks: "Listen, 
 you ingrates, to what the Committee thinks of your kind 
 benefactor," and reads: 
 
 "We know that the children are in the hands of a man 
 who has devoted his life to philanthropy, and of course are 
 aware that everything is being done for the welfare of the 
 children in The Shepherd'i Fold." 
 
 "Remember that," he adds, "when you feel in- 
 clined to rebel against kindness and parental dis- 
 cipline; when your gluttonous stomachs cry out for 
 more food that would be bad for you! " 
 
 Then he says uxoriously to his wife: "My pet, have 
 you let the newsboys go ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Did you get the fifty cents apiece back from 
 them ? " 
 
 "They refused to give it up." 
 
 "The godless robbers!" mutters the saintly man, 
 and his voice becomes harsher as he adds: " Patience, 
 bring me the Bible. I will read a chapter from it and 
 say the evening prayers, then the children shall go to 
 bed it is better for them to retire by daylight, candles 
 are dear." 
 
 But Mrs. Mawley turning to get the Bible of the 
 institution gives an astonished little squeak: " Jonas, 
 it isn't here." 
 
 "What is not here?" 
 
 "The Bible isn't here." 
 
 "Impossible! It must be here or did you take 
 it to the Committee Room that the gentlemen might 
 notice it prominently,^!
 
 HER SENATOR. 39 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Run down stairs and see." 
 
 A moment later Mrs. Mawley bounces into the room 
 and ejaculates: "The Bible of the Fold isn't below!' 
 
 "Good gracious! we use it enough. It must be 
 somewhere,'' cries the Shepherd. 
 
 But though both he and his wife search through the 
 bare school-room and barer dining-room the Bible 
 can't be found, and Mawley looks about for some one 
 upon whom to ope the vials of his wrath. 
 
 He finds one ready to his hand. Annie has just" 
 come in breathless from her errand. 
 
 "I've I've brought a doctor," she stammers. Then 
 she would apparently add to her story, "He he 
 was " 
 
 "Stop that noise! " cries Mawley sternly, and beck- 
 oning Annie to him says savagely, "What have you 
 done with the Bible ? " 
 
 1 ' The the Bible ! " stutters the girl. ' ' What Bible ?" 
 
 "The Bible of the institution. Don't prevaricate. 
 Answer me! It was left in your charge as well as 
 everything else in this room. What have you done 
 with it ? " 
 
 "I I don't know," falters the unfortunate one, ap- 
 prehension in her eyes, for Mr. Mawley's appearance 
 is appalling. 
 
 " Don't know ? Then I will teach you to know. If 
 you don't find that Bible by eight o'clock to-night, 
 come to me in my library." 
 
 At this dire injunction Annie falls on her knees 
 screaming wildly for mercy, for Mr. Mawley's library 
 is also his torture chamber, in which he visits the de- 
 linquencies of childhood upon their trembling frames 
 with cruel stripes. 
 
 But here a gasp of astonishment comes from the 
 surrounding and affrighted inmates of his home. Eve-
 
 40 HER SENATOR. 
 
 lyn Ellison's voice is heard calmly saying: "If you 
 whip Annie you will do wrong. It will be impossible 
 for her to find it. It is not her fault it is not here. I 
 I SOLD IT ! " And despite herself a tremor of dread 
 is in the young girl's voice. 
 
 "Sold what?" 
 
 " Sold the Bible for fifteen cents to keep my little 
 sister alive /" answers the girl confronting Mawley, in- 
 dignation overcoming fear. 
 
 41 Sold the Bible! " Here the Reverend Jonas's face 
 assumes an expression of horror of such tremendous 
 intensity that Bowery Mollie, who has not been long 
 enough in the establishment to have forgotten how, 
 shrieks with laughter, though the scene is a horrible 
 one, for the great, big, oily, powerful man has reached 
 out his hand and taken the thin yet graceful figure of 
 the girl by her two shoulders and is gazing at her as 
 the snake does at his prey. 
 
 "SOLD THE BIBLE! " he repeats, as if he could not 
 understand such awful depravity. " Sold it for PRO- 
 VISIONS. " Then his eyes seek the floor near the little 
 Mathilde, and he mutters: "Yes, the crumbs are 
 those of pie and CAKE. We never have pie and cake 
 here. By the Lord, I believe you you thief you in- 
 grate you have sold the word of God for a mess of 
 pottage." Each adjuration being emphasized by a 
 shake that makes his victim's teeth rattle like casta- 
 nets. 
 
 But the brave eyes of the girl look into his, and she 
 answers passionately, but without a whimper, though 
 his strong fingers are bruising her delicate arms: 
 
 "Yes! I would sell my soul to keep my little sister 
 from the starvation of your home! " 
 
 "By heaven, you look it!" mutters Mawley. 
 "You have more devil than angel in you, my lady, 
 with all your airs and graces," and despite himself he
 
 HER SENATOR. 4! 
 
 can't help noting the promise of good and evil in the 
 girl that she will be a Cornelia or a Cleopatra one 
 or the other. "You know the punishment for steal- 
 ing in my institution," he goes on, a kind of savage 
 Puritanism in his voice, " Stripes for the thief! " 
 
 At this the girl suddenly blushes, then grows deathly 
 pale and trembles, though her great eyes never leave 
 his face. 
 
 But Mrs. Mawley hurriedly says "Not here! Not 
 now! The doctor is below with the sick child." 
 
 "You are right, Patience, my angel!" assents Mr. 
 Mawley. "I'll take this culprit to my library, and 
 after I have finished with the rest here, I will thrash 
 the evil out of her! " 
 
 Then with strong hand he drags the girl though 
 she says no word, nor makes resistance to his library, 
 that is upon the same floor of the house, and locks 
 her in not taking the trouble to note that a hay 
 wagon is approaching along the unpaved street upon 
 which the windows of this room open. 
 
 Returning from this to his affrighted flock, the ad- 
 ministrator of public justice gets a shock. 
 
 Annie continues her story that Mawley had inter- 
 rupted by his threats, and horrifies the Shepherd. She 
 says: "I have brought a doctor, but not the one you 
 sent for; he was out!" 
 
 "Then whom did you bring?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir; he was with his father at the 
 door; I heard his father calling him a doctor, and I 
 begged him to come in." 
 
 Whereupon Mawley, in a gasp of horror, ejaculates: 
 " Did I not tell you I would have no strange doctor? " 
 
 And the girl murmurs: "Oh, sir, the child was so 
 sick I could not bear to wait." Then she adds simply: 
 "He is a, good doctor. He knows what's the matter 
 With the child/'
 
 42 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "The devil," gasps the saintly Mawley, turning 
 pale. 
 
 "And he says she is to have chicken broth and wine." 
 
 ' ' Chicken broth and WINE ! Perhaps he'll expect me 
 to buy it. I can sell my property to buy it, as that 
 wretched girl did to give cake and pie to her glutton 
 sister." 
 
 And he picks up Mattie and shakes her, and raises 
 his hand, as the little child puts up her innocent face to 
 him and cries: "You bad man; what have you done 
 with my sister! " then screams as he smacks her, "Sceur 
 cherie d moi & moi!" 
 
 At her cry a handsome young man of alert step 
 springs in the door, seizes Mawley's upraised hand, 
 twists him round and throws him to one side, mutter- 
 ing, "Brute! " 
 
 "Who are you, coming between a child and her legal 
 guardian," snarls the Shepherd. 
 
 "I am the doctor called in to attend the sick child 
 below. Permit me to present my card," and he does 
 so, and loking at it, Mawley stammers, "James Ber- 
 tram Guernsey, M.D." 
 
 " I came here with my father, Overhand Guernsey, 
 to see two children he left in your charge nearly four 
 years ago. At the gate I was asked by this girl to 
 look at a sick child below. I entered this room to 
 give you my report. This poor little girl's cries for 
 mercy caught my ear. My profession is to mitigate 
 suffering in the world. Could I listen to the cry of a 
 fatherless child and not answer it? " Then he calls 
 out sternly, ' ' Father! " 
 
 At his word Overhand Guernsey comes in, and Maw- 
 ley gazes at him astounded and dismayed. 
 
 "Where are the two children of Arthur Ellison?" he 
 asks hurriedly, almost frightenedly, for the appearance 
 of the place has given many a pang to th^ man who,
 
 HER SENATOR. 43 
 
 with the fear of prison taken from him, has discovered 
 he has a conscience, and it is smiting him. 
 
 "One's sobbin* on the floor, and the other's locked 
 up in the library waitin' to be licked," screams Bowery 
 Mollie. 
 
 "Which way? "cries Guernsey and his son together. 
 
 " Third door on the right," yells the product from 
 the slums, excitedly dancing a jig of delight about 
 Mawley, who has sunk in dismay upon a chair as his 
 two visitors have run along the passage. 
 
 A minute after they return, the elder bearing in his 
 hand a scrap of paper. "Your victim has fled from 
 you," he says, holding it before the Shepherd's eyes, 
 who reads: 
 
 " I dare not stay, for if you struck me, I should kill you. I 
 had ground a pair of scissors for you, Idche and assassin that 
 you are. Beware how you treat Mathilde, for some day I shall 
 return for her. 
 
 "That is her handwriting?" questions the elder 
 Guernsey, gazing at the unformed, childish characters. 
 
 "Yes," mutters Mawley excitedly. "She can't be 
 far off ! " 
 
 "My sister has runned away," falters Mathilde. 
 Then she sobs with the unconscious pathos of childhood : 
 "I shall never see my Evie again!" and screams: 
 ' ' Viens soeur chtrie ! Come back to Mignonncttc \ 
 come back!" 
 
 Listening to her, Guernsey's conscience cries out 
 within him, " MY crime!" 
 
 " You cruel ruffian ! the child below is suffering not 
 from fever but from starvation," remarks the young 
 doctor, sternly confronting Mawley. "Heaven has 
 not punished you, but I will see that the law does!" 
 
 "Bully for you!" 
 
 "Bully for 'ou!" 
 
 The first comes from Bowery Mollie, who is clap
 
 44 HER SENATOR. 
 
 ping her hands like wild. The second is an echo from 
 the tot Sallie, who has placed admiring blue eyes upon 
 the dashing young doctor. 
 
 But his father interposes nervously : " First let us find 
 the sister." Then, for his conscience is smiting him very 
 hard now, he takes into his arms the daughter of his be- 
 trayed friend and mutters: " You shall be happy again, 
 little one I will take you where you shall suffer no 
 more." 
 
 "Where's that?" prattles the child in a tired, 
 dreamy way. 
 
 " HOME!" answers the man in a husky voice, moving 
 with his burden towards the door, the children of the 
 Fold gazing at him open-eyed, astonished and silent. 
 
 " Home! like papa's home where people say kind 
 words to you and you ain't never hungry?" asks the 
 child with unbelieving voice and astonished eyes. 
 
 'Yes," murmurs Guernsey. Then he prays: " May 
 her dead father forgive me now!" and lifting the little 
 face to his kisses it and his tears fall upon it. 
 
 Then of a sudden little Sallie cries, clapping her little 
 hands: "Oh, he tissed her !" And as the handsome 
 young doctor, dressed in fine raiment, turns to follow 
 his father, this toddler who has never known father nor 
 mother, nor love, nor even Christian kindness, springs 
 after this man who has shown to her for the first time 
 in her short life, humanity ; seizes his coat tails and tug- 
 ging at them with baby hands puts up a pathetic face 
 ar.d cries: " Say, Mister! won't 'ou tiss me?" 
 
 "Kiss you, little waif? Why?" asks the doctor in 
 kindly surprise. 
 
 " Because," says the little one simply, " I'VE NEVER 
 
 NEVER BEEN TISSED IN MY WHOLE LIFE!" 
 
 " My God! " mutters the young man, and takes her 
 to his heait with streaming eyes.
 
 HER SENATOR. 45 
 
 Coming out from Mawley's Fold bearing one sister 
 in his arms, Guernsey and his son seek for the other. 
 But night is coming on, already it is dark, and even 
 the suburb of a great city has too many people upon 
 its streets to make one poor girl, more or less, of notice 
 or distinction. 
 
 The son would advertise and call the police to aid in 
 the search, but his father dissuades him from this, for 
 Guernsey is a man upon whose conscience self-interest 
 is a most potent narcotic. He fears to make the affair 
 public, or to prosecute Mawley, dreading anything that 
 may throw light upon his treatment of the two little girls 
 confided to his care by the hand of their dead father 
 who had trusted him. 
 
 Consequently, though Doctor Jim makes diligent 
 inquiries on his own account, two days afterward they 
 return to Guernsey's great western cattle ranch, bear- 
 ing with them one little child, Mathilde. 
 
 The shadows of a great city have fallen upon the 
 other, the older one.
 
 HER SENATOR. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 CATCHING A SENATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER v. 
 
 "i WILL BE HIS CLEOPATRA!" 
 
 " BIJOU, I must have a senator! " 
 
 "What the devil do you want with a senator?" 
 growls a masculine voice. 
 
 " Mon cher, I want him, to sell him," laughs the 
 lady. 
 
 "What the deuce is one of those Albany fellows 
 worth to anybody but himself ? " 
 
 " Mon petit, I don't speak of a State senator, I aspire 
 to a United States senator. This newspaper says that 
 many of them sell themselves for a great deal of money 
 to trusts and corporations. Now I want a senator to 
 sell him for my own benefit, not his. Comprenez f " 
 And Eva Montressor taps the forehead of the curly- 
 headed, mustachioed young giant, whom she has ad- 
 dressed as "Bijou" and "Mon petit"; then adds: 
 " Put that in thy little brain, canst thou ? " 
 
 "By the living Jingo, if you cut up any monkey- 
 shines with him I'll go on a rampage that will astonish 
 you," remarks the husband to the wife. 
 
 "Astonish me, my dear ? That is impossible. Any- 
 way," adds the lady with a sigh, "it is better than 
 Bohemian starvation. Why don't you go on a rampage 
 to earn money f " 
 
 "Have I not slaved like a Trojan?" replies the 
 gentleman addressed. "Didn't I play light comedy
 
 HER SENATOR. 47 
 
 in Varick's Company and walk home ? Haven't I 
 painted pictures until the paint man won't trust me 
 for more artist's materials ? What do you want me to 
 do work? " 
 
 This last word is uttered in an injured voice as if the 
 cruelty implied by the idea is too terrible to contem- 
 plate. 
 
 " Bah, Bijou! all I ask of you is to be silent and to 
 do as you are told." 
 
 " What's that ?" 
 
 "Be a good little boy and not cut up rough while wifey 
 directs the family ship. Then it can eat bonbons and 
 do nothing for the rest of its life. It can even make 
 love to all the latest imported coro, and I shall say 
 nothing," remarks the lady gazing upon the chalky 
 face of the young man that grows florid with blushes at 
 this insinuation. "It's anxious to run away now, 
 I see," she continues with a laugh. "Who is it? 
 Miss Betty Tollemache, of the Artist's Girl Company 
 or Mademoiselle Carrolia Guissipe of the Metropolitan 
 First Line of Coryphees. You see I'm not jealousmy dear; 
 in fact I don't think enough of you to be jealous. You 
 want to go your way ; do it if you like. I will follow 
 mine. I have greater ambitions. Besides ours was an 
 emotional, touch and go, Bohemian marriage, anyway! " 
 and she pats his big blonde cheeks and laughs at him. 
 
 The gentleman does not answer this directly; he 
 merely mutters longingly, "By jove, I wish I had a 
 cigar." 
 
 "Agree to my proposition and Claudie shall have 
 one," jeers the lady. 
 
 "By George, that means that you have money, 
 Evie ! " cries the man brightening up. 
 
 " Yes, I always have a little. If I didn't the dinner 
 hour would be the bad one for both you and me^-" 
 jemarks his spouse philosophically.
 
 48 ttEfe SENATOR. 
 
 "Then hand it over," replies the gentleman, his 
 manner becoming brisk and eager. 
 
 ' ' I will enough for one cigar. I didn't stipulate for 
 a box," and the girl, for though she is old enough to be 
 a matron, Evelyn Montressor still bears vivacious and 
 perennial youth on her fair face, holds a dainty hand 
 over the giant, and drops a quarter of a dollar into his 
 outstretched palm. 
 
 "Is that all!" 
 
 " Mon Dicu! Do you want cigars that cost more 
 than twenty-five cents, my sybarite, who cannot 
 smoke a pipe, and who disdains cigarettes ? " ejaculates 
 the lady as she stands over him in dainty pose, for 
 Claude Auchester Montressor is a great big lazy 
 fellow, and is reclining at full length in a hammock 
 this sultry April day. 
 
 " By Jove, I wish I could paint you as you look now; 
 that would make my fortune," he says languidly, his 
 eyes for a moment lighting up with admiration. 
 
 "Thank you, Bijou, but I have no wish to be carica- 
 tured by your brush," she replies. "You had that 
 opportunity when in honeymoon lunacy I thought you 
 could paint. But now " 
 
 " Now," growls Claude, savagely, "you sit for Ama- 
 die, the Italian." 
 
 "Yes," answers the lady, "I have posed^for him. 
 You needn't get angry, Claude. You have seen the 
 picture. Only head, shoulders and arms in the dis- 
 creet de'collete' of the ladies you admire in the boxes 
 of the Metropolitan Opera House. And it has been 
 the luckiest thing I ever did. For Amadie is a genius, 
 an industrious genius, who decorates walls and ceilings 
 all the day for his bread and butter, and paints like 
 lightning all the night for fame and fortune. And 
 what has been the result ? He offered to exhibit my 
 portrait at one of their fashionable women shows,
 
 HER SENATOR. 49 
 
 where they give tea for charity and collect much money 
 for the poor, and it was rejected because I had not 
 Colonial ancestry. But strung up on the walls in 
 Twenty-third street, that didn't prevent its being the 
 rage, did it ? And now I have, as the result, admir- 
 ers by the score." 
 
 "Yes, four newspaper men, fourteen actors, and one 
 capitalist," answers the other, with surly emphasis 
 upon the last of his catalogue. 
 
 ' ' There, you've hit it at last, my stupid one, " says the 
 lady, laughingly. "One capitalist that is the impor- 
 tant item in your schedule Mr. Steinbergh, of the 
 Gelatine Trust." 
 
 " Aha! it is he who has put into your head the idea 
 of selling a senator! Are you going to vend him to 
 Steinbergh ? " 
 
 "Hush, my dear; Mr. Steinbergh has never men- 
 tioned the thing to me. It's the newspapers they 
 have suggested the idea; the gossipy newspapers and 
 poverty that quickens the wits." 
 
 "Poverty, bah!" answers her companion. " If I 
 could paint you as you look now I could sell the picture 
 for more money " 
 
 "Than you will ever make by your brush, my lazy 
 Claude," laughs the lady. 
 
 And she is right; for few more beautiful pictures 
 have come to the eye of man upon this earth than 
 Evelyn Montressor; as she stands in the sunshine that 
 beams through the open window upon her, making 
 every hair upon her charming head a thread of gold, 
 lighting up her sapphire eyes, and tinging in loving 
 lights and shadows the airy graces of her form as she 
 stands there in exquisite pose, looking like a daughter 
 of Spring. Her face has that vivacious nobility that 
 gives lightness and dainty sauciness to features that 
 without it would be, perchance, too coldly classical,
 
 50 HER SENATOR. 
 
 though her eyes emit flashes that show there is a great 
 and resolute spirit, perchance sometimes a misguided 
 one, behind their rainbow loveliness. Her mouth would 
 be perhaps too firm for a woman, did not the tendet- 
 softness of the lips indicate a subdued and restrained 
 passion that at times may make her heart rule her head 
 in some grand affair, some great sacrifice when she 
 will give her all, and give it nobly ! 
 
 " By skittles! " says the man looking at her, "you're 
 as lovely as the angels of Paradise ! " Then he adds 
 eagerly, "But I think I will go for my cigar." 
 
 With this the gentleman springs from his hammock, 
 and putting on a light hat, bangs the door after him 
 in his rapid exit in search of the longed-for weed. 
 
 "Beautiful as the angels of Paradise !" sneers the 
 lady, looking after him. "Yes, Claude, that's a souve- 
 nir of our honeymoon frenzy. Now, I am not so 
 attractive as Betsy Tollemache of the Artist's Girl 
 Company, and scarcely compare in your emotions with 
 Carrolia Guissipe" of the Metropolitan Coryphees." Then 
 she adds bitterly, "My Claude, you have had your hour. 
 We drifted together, why should we not drift apart. 
 This summer is the last of you for me, you miserable, 
 lazy, worthless, do everything, do nothing drone! " 
 
 And the lady clenches her hands and looks about the 
 apartment, which is Bohemian from the parrot that has 
 been gazing admiringly upon her and now shrieks: 
 " Go home! Go home! the wine's all gone! " to the 
 easel witk one of Claude's half finished daubs upon it, 
 and the cushioned hammock, made for lazy lounging. 
 The articles of furniture are inexpensive, most of them, 
 but some of them very dainty; and one or two quite 
 costly and bearing the inscription, " To Mademoiselle 
 Chica." A piano, a guitar, a banjo, attest the musical 
 quality in the Bohemian pair. 
 
 Some late novels, most of them in French; a pair of
 
 HER SENATOR. $1 
 
 gigantic men's slippers in opposite corners of the room, 
 an empty beer bottle on a side table, and three or four 
 pictures, one of which is apparently painted by a genius 
 and signed " Amadie," as well as a photograph of the 
 lady herself, her exquisitely proportioned form dis- 
 played by an inspired Parisian evening gown, and un- 
 derneath the brief statement, " Chica," give variety to 
 the mise-en-sclnc. 
 
 These, with a set of boxing gloves, a pair of foils, 
 one of them broken ; a picture of the gentleman of the 
 late conversation, arrayed in hose and doublet and with 
 a long rapier, inscribed, "Mr. Montressor, in his great 
 character of the Silent Cavalier," a part in which Claude 
 had made his only hit, chiefly because the exigencies 
 of the role compelled him to keep his mouth very firmly 
 closed during the whole performance all go to give a 
 peculiar bric-a-brac appearance to the room. 
 
 "It's an old curiosity shop," laughs the young lady, 
 glancing around the room. Then she mutters: "I 
 wonder if they will bring money enough for my plan ! " 
 showing that she has thoughts of turning the house- 
 hold lares et penatcs into gold for some scheme that is 
 in her vivacious brain. 
 
 A moment after she suddenly claps her hands and 
 laughs: " I'll do it I'll sell him high! " next mutters, 
 " But how to get him and who to get ? These senators 
 are mostly wary old birds. Steinbergh tells me that 
 the Senate is the difficult place for the Gelatine bill." 
 
 Here she suddenly starts and cries: "Come in! I 
 know it's you by your knock." 
 
 "You know it's who? " says the gentleman, entering. 
 
 "You, of course Von Spitzer! " 
 
 "That is a safe guess, after you see my face," Von 
 Spitzer laughs. Then he goes on, casting a glance at 
 the spring toilet of the lady, which is soft white mus- 
 lin, with three patches of color blue at neck, waist
 
 52 HER SENATOR. 
 
 and slippered feet: "Tell you what, Evie, you're the 
 smartest little chick within eight or ten blocks of 
 Washington Square." 
 
 For the apartment occupied by Evelyn and Claude 
 is in that peculiar neighborhood which is filled with a 
 mixture of everything in a social way and in an wsocial 
 way. The homes of the great families of New York 
 that cannot give up their charming old spacious resi- 
 dences about the north side of the square are in juxta- 
 position with the cheap boarding houses of everyday 
 indigent existence and mixed up with apartment houses, 
 some of which are of such elegance that they claim 
 millionaires for their occupants, while others are of 
 such invitingly low rentals that they are inhabited by 
 empty-pocketed Bohemians. 
 
 For Bohemia is always empty-pocketed. If it has 
 money it spends it as soon as possible; if it has no 
 money it doesn't care much as long as it has a good 
 time which generally ends in a bad time; for there 
 are more broken hearts per capita than in any other 
 spot on God's footstool, in that ephemeral land 
 yclept Bohemia, and lauded by poets and authors 
 as a place of wondrous gaiety, lightheartedness, 
 comradeship, bonhomie and all the nobility of 
 manhood and womanhood. But its generosity con- 
 sists usually in borrowing from a friend, its com- 
 radeship is mostly backbiting, hatred and envy of suc- 
 cess in others, its nobility consists in deifying every 
 irresponsible, rash, and seductive animalism. It revels 
 in the lusts of the flesh and the excitements of the sen- 
 sations. Its glory is of tinsel, its gaiety is the saddest 
 upon earth. 
 
 It was in this realm of unhealthy emotions that 
 Evelyn Montressor had blossomed from girlhood into 
 womanhood. It was from this she proposed to escape, 
 not that its unreality troubled her sweet soul greatly;
 
 HER SENATOR. 53 
 
 familiarity had made it seem au nature!. It was ; ts in- 
 digence its lack of capital that displeased her most. 
 The shock of seeing Claude boisterous and roisterous 
 was as naught to the shock of wondering how she. 
 would get a good dinner to satisfy her healthy appetite, 
 or a new and chic costume to grace her delightful 
 figure. She now proposes by a bold stroke to settle 
 these questions for life and in the right way. 
 
 f Her mind being full of this idea this bright May day, 
 she answers Von Spitzer quite carelessly: "So glad I 
 please you. What a pity I didn't please you on canvas 
 in poor Amadie's picture. I believe you devoted half 
 a column in the morning Pursuivant to giving my 
 portrait Jits! Don't you know that was a personal 
 attack upon me? For Florio has made that canvas 
 speak. It is my living, breathing image!" And her 
 eyes gleam on him like a pair of blue diamonds. 
 
 " Consequently you're now giving me FITS!" answers 
 the gentleman addressed, who is Franz Heinrich Von 
 Spitzer, art critic of the morning paper the lady has 
 mentioned, who, being a foreigner, hates everything in 
 the way of American art in fact, hates everything 
 American save the American dollar, which he affects to 
 despise also but does not. 
 
 " I would like to give you. fas, but it isn't possible," 
 laughs the lady, sneeringly. "You are already rabid 
 
 I on the subject of American art. Still I suppose I should 
 forgive you because you gave the picture half a column 
 of venomous platitudes. That shows that you fear 
 that you know it is good 7 But little Amadie Florio 
 beware of him, the long Italian knife and vendetta a la 
 Corsica. However, if you particularly wish to attack 
 American art, here is just the thing for you. Pitch 
 into my husband's picture," and she points with viva- 
 cious white hand to Claude's latest daub on the easel. 
 "You can do that with a good deal of truth."
 
 54 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "Why, I I rather like it," says the gentleman, 
 looking at it. "It's of the Impressionist School a 
 sunset, I imagine. " 
 
 "del/ You have diagnosed it perfectly. It isClaude's 
 attempt at an ocean storm, but, fortunately, it's upside 
 down. We'll label it 'Sunset,' and sell it as such." 
 
 "To to whom ?" stammers the art critic, stifling a 
 laugh; "to Steinbergh ?" 
 
 "Yes, to Steinbergh, " giggles Evie. "He said he 
 wanted something Jurid to light up the Dutch masters 
 he has bought at your recommendation. " Then she 
 adds, blushing slightly: "Why did you say, sell it to 
 Steinbergh ? " 
 
 " Because, " answers Von Spitzer, "to be frank, I 
 believe you sell most of your husband's pictures to 
 Steinbergh. He has a collection of them locked up in 
 a closet. He treasures them as undeveloped photo- 
 graphic negatives that the light would destroy. " 
 
 "Has Claude sold them?" asks the lady, feigning 
 astonishment, the blush growing a little deeper upon 
 her fair cheeks; for Von Spitzer is smiting her hard. 
 It is she who has sold Claude's pictures to Steinbergh. 
 At this moment Mr. Montressor is enjoying a twenty- 
 five cent cigar, purchased by the money of his brush, in 
 the presence of Miss Betty Tollemache, and would be 
 fearfully disgusted if he knew that this quarter is all 
 he will get of a hundred dollar bill received for a 
 picture painted by his laborious brush that but yester- 
 day had passed into the beneficent financier's art col- 
 lection. Then she adds, attempting a laugh: "Ah, 
 you're a wonderful man, you critic! You know so 
 much." 
 
 "Yes, and shall soon know more. I'm not only the 
 art feuilletonist, but I am going to be the musical 
 critic on our evening edition. You sing in concerts 
 again next winter ? "
 
 HER SENATOR. 55 
 
 "Yes, but not in New York," answers Evelyn. 
 "Sharpen your pen for me if I ever come to the Met- 
 ropolitan Opera House or Carnegie Music Hall." 
 
 "I believe I can get you an engagement to sing in 
 one or two concerts up there this coming season," 
 returns Mr. Von Spitzer, suggestively. "What do 
 you think about it ? " 
 
 "I will tell you when the winter arrives. Perhaps 
 I may have a cold about that time. Great artistes 
 often do." 
 
 "That means you won't sing." 
 
 " It means that I am uncertain." 
 
 "You have other views ? " 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 "You think of going to Europe to cultivate your 
 voice with the money obtained from your husband'* 
 artistic brush?" This is said in a tone of shy yet 
 significant sarcasm. 
 
 "I only think of having a pleasant summer and 
 keeping cool," laughs Evie, fanning herself in a dainty 
 Spanish fashion. Then she breaks out petulantly: 
 " What did you come here for, anyway ? You know I 
 don't receive until three o'clock. Gaze at the apart- 
 ment! Breaking in upon me before I have made the 
 toilet of the afternoon." 
 
 "Oh, you always look good enough for anything. 
 Whoever saw Mrs. Montressor but at her very best ?" 
 answers the gentleman. "However, I came to asfc 
 you if you wouldn't join a party at Koster & Bial's this 
 evening ? I've had a box tendered me by the manage- 
 ment since I've become a musical critic, and have 
 invited Mr. Steinbergh and Flora Atherton, and shall 
 be pleased if you and Claude will join us." 
 
 "Ah! Miss Atherton's engagement is over ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes; her company closed the other day." 
 
 Mr. Von Spitzer has motioned the name of a young
 
 56 HER SENATOR. 
 
 actress who has just been attracting New York opera 
 glasses to her vivacious comedy and pretty self at 
 a metropolitan theatre. 
 
 " Does a dinner go with it? " queries the lady eagerly. 
 
 "Brava! I like the way you ask things, straight- 
 forward and frank; no beating about the bush in 
 la belle Chica!" 
 
 "Oh, drop my nom de concert, please; Chica is 
 unknown in New York. I've never made a sensation 
 in the metropolis. Chica is for the West, where they 
 imagine I am a prima donna, and in New England, 
 where they believe I am a graduate of the Boston Con- 
 servatory. But did you say dinner ? " 
 
 " No, I didn't say dinner, but Steinbergh says dinner, 
 and it's a good deal better than if I said dinner, 
 because he'll give you a much better one," laughs the 
 young man. "Besides, if you'll go, I'll retract in 
 to-morrow's paper all I said about Amadie's daub 
 in to-day's." 
 
 " If you don't I'll never speak to you again," laughs 
 the lady, "for between you and me I'm interested in 
 that picture as a speculation. Amadie and I divide if 
 it's sold, and when a person attacks my porte-monnaie 
 without sufficient cause, I hate him." 
 
 "Very well, you'll come ?" says the young man. 
 
 "With pleasure, if I can get hold of Claude, and 
 if not well, I'll come anyway. I presume you want a 
 chaperone for Miss Atherton. They are so necessary 
 in Bohemia, especially at Koster & Bial's!" 
 
 "Enough said!" answers Von Spitzer. "Amadie's 
 picture to-morrow shall be an inspiration. No one is 
 fit to be a critic who cannot write with sufficient tact to 
 retract his words if the thing makes a success with the 
 public, and between ourselves I think Amadie's picture 
 is making a hit. At all events it is now marked 
 "SOLD" at the Academv "
 
 HER SENATOR. 57 
 
 "Sold! ' cries the lady; then adds contemplatively: 
 "I wonder how much he got for it?" as though 
 it makes a great deal of difference with her future ; for 
 the problem that has been running through her 
 beautiful head all this morning has been a financial 
 one. It is this : Can she get together enough of filthy 
 lucre to make a show in Washington for the allurement, 
 enslavement, and capture of her senator? She does not 
 know which one will be her senator that she must 
 decide later. 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding her mental preoccupation, she 
 smiles very pleasantly at the young man as he takes 
 his leave, saying merrily: "I would say, 'God go with 
 you, ' but He never will ! So good bye, and love to 
 Flossie! " 
 
 Her laughter dies away as Von Spitzer's footsteps 
 grow faint. Her white forehead wrinkles, her blue 
 eyes contract as if she is thinking She pulls out a 
 little set of ivory tablets and goes to figuring upon 
 them; then suddenly cries: "I can do it, if Amadie 
 hasn't been a business fool and sold my portrait for a 
 song! " 
 
 Into this meditation breaks a wild-eyed little Italian, 
 with nervous rap and excitable entry. He whispers to 
 her eagerly : "I have sold it ! Dio Mio ! May God 
 forgive me, I have sold it! " 
 
 "I would never have forgiven you if you hadn't 
 sold it," remarks the lady; then says as nervously as 
 the little Italian himself: "Amadie, for how much did 
 you sell it ? I hope you valued me highly." 
 
 "For this this piece of paper, half of which is 
 yours," and the Italian tosses a check into her lap, 
 then goes on excitedly: "I would never have parted 
 with your portrait; your sweet canvas eyes should 
 have beamed on me forever, to light me to new tri- 
 umphs of the brush. For, cntrc nous, I now have
 
 58 HER SENATOR. 
 
 orders. Mrs. Wheatstuff, of Chicago, wishes her por- 
 trait painted by me. Miss Carrie Patriarch, of Fifth 
 avenue, would like her patrician features depicted by 
 me. I now stroke my mustache and look at the critics 
 with scorn, especially that Von Spitzer, the German 
 sausage beast. Did you read his article?" hisses the 
 little fellow, rolling his dark Italian eyes in a kind of 
 horror. ' ' Corpo di Baccho ! Did you see what the 
 barbaro said of you? " 
 
 "Yes," murmurs the lady, who is examining the 
 piece of paper he has given her quite eagerly. " I 
 noted that Von Spitzer hinted if you had done justice 
 to me your picture would have been a triumph. " Then 
 she suddenly cries: " It is for a thousand dollars oh, 
 Florio, a thousand dollars, you dear little genius!" 
 next mutters, commercial instinct dominating her: 
 "I wonder if the check is good. I don't know the 
 name." 
 
 "Not know the name?" cries Amadie Florio. 
 " Can't you read it ? It is // Signor James B. Guernsey, 
 the United States Senator just elected from Populoso, 
 the new State. " 
 
 "Populoso!" laughs the lady. "Yes, I've heard it 
 is a melange of a cattle ranch and mining camp." 
 Then she suddenly adds: "The name does seem famil- 
 iar to me. Where have I heard it ? Guernsey " 
 
 Suddenly over her mobile features comes a flash 
 that lights up her blue eyes with a ray that is brilliant 
 but not benign. "Guernsey!" she murmurs. "Get 
 the check cashed, Amadie, bring me the money 
 Guernsey!" Her face grows pale and drawn as she 
 suggests: "Could you find out more about him? I 
 would like to know the history of this man Guernsey. 
 Couldn't you borrow at the bookstore around the cor- 
 ner the Lives of Self-Made Americans ? Perchance I 
 may learn of him there."
 
 HER SENATOR. 59 
 
 "What difference does it make to you?" remarks 
 Amadie. "He is a United States Senator; of course 
 his check is good. Besides, I have heard people say 
 he is worth a million. That Populoso may not be 
 much of a State, but he owns the most of it." 
 
 ''Nevertheless, Amadie, do my errand for me. 
 Bring me the book ; you always do what I ask you." 
 
 " Sapristi ! I will now, only promise me to sit for 
 another portrait. This time an ideal one." 
 
 "Oh, yes; anything you like. Get me the book," 
 answers the lady, as if anxious to be alone. 
 
 And the little Italian runs away upon his errand. 
 
 "Do I know this Guernsey ?" she mutters to her- 
 self. "Is he no, that is impossible. The name of 
 the man was Overhand Guernsey the man who robbed 
 me of papa's last letter which said we were rich who 
 gave my poor little sister and me for our heritage, 
 hunger and stripes who placed me at the mercy 
 of that cruel ruffian! Yes, I remember Guernsey! 
 By the memory of my sister I have not forgotten 
 him," she goes on muttering hoarsely. " The sister I 
 shall never see again, who has gone Heaven knows 
 where dead lost ; for when I returned to that place 
 Mawley had met his deserts and was in prison and 
 there was no more Shepherd's Fold. There was noth- 
 ing left of it only the broken hearts it had made." 
 Then she jeers herself: "What nonsense! forme to 
 think the man who purchased my picture is any relative 
 to the Wall Street broker. He is probably some great, 
 good-natured western giant with a heart big enough 
 for the whole world and one woman? Perhaps he is 
 my senator ! " and ends the whole thing with a prolonged 
 and melodious whistle. 
 
 This rhapsody is broken in upon by the return of 
 Amadie bearing a large volume inscribed upon the 
 back: ''America's Intellectual Giants. G J."
 
 60 HER SENATOR. 
 
 Into this book, at the letter "G," she dives with 
 vivacious eagerness, finding the names of self-made 
 soap men, ambitious leather dealers, and millionaire 
 stove polish manufacturers, mixed up with a few of the 
 really representative men of the country. For it is a 
 book that has been published by subscription, and any 
 intellectual giant who will subscribe fifty dollars is no- 
 ticed in it, and if he pays one hundred dollars more 
 the portrait of his intellectual face adorns the page as 
 well. In this book she finds the name of Guernsey, 
 Overhand ; beside it is a face that makes her start and 
 gasp: " The face of the past! " 
 
 She hurriedly reads the notice. 
 
 "Once a financial magnate of Wall Street, now 
 removed to and living in Silveropolis, the capital of 
 Populoso, soon to be admitted to the Union. This 
 coming State owes a great deal to the extraordinary 
 financial and executive ability of the gentleman whose 
 portrait we print." 
 
 She runs over his life, and it mentions that one son is 
 born to him and survives him James Bertram now 
 one of the leading men of Populoso, a candidate for 
 the United States Senate from that territory as soon 
 as it shall become a State. 
 
 "Survives him! How I have hoped he lived," she 
 mutters. "The dead are safe from the living." 
 
 Then she questions the little Italian eagerly: "This 
 gentleman, this United States Senator, how did he 
 chance to purchase your picture?" 
 
 "Ah, that was very curious," answers Amadie. 
 "He seemed impressed by the beauty of, the paint- 
 ing, still I think he would not have bought it, but for 
 the young lady who was with him." 
 
 "His wife?" 
 
 "I think not; I imagine she is his sister from their 
 conversation. But it was at her request that he
 
 HER SENATOR. 6l 
 
 bought the portrait. She talked with the Doctor I 
 believe he is a medical man professionally eagerly for 
 some time. I don't know what their conversation 
 was, I only caught these words: 'Buy, it to please 
 me! ' " 
 
 "Ah, then he did not care for it." 
 
 1 ' On the contrary he had admired it greatly. He 
 said the woman who had sat for it must be striking as 
 the Goddess of Liberty on a new silver dollar." 
 
 "And so I presume my features will grace his 
 palatial log cabin in the West," sneers Evie, forcing her- 
 self to merriment, but all this time her brain is buzzing 
 with a sudden, yet awful inspiration. "Leave the 
 book, Amadie," she murmurs, "I'll see that it is 
 returned. Go and get your money and my money." 
 
 "You will sit for me once more?" pleads the little 
 Italian. "I wish to make an ideal picture this time." 
 
 "Of course! But as what will you paint me?" she 
 queries impatiently, anxious to be alone. 
 
 "As the Goddess of Revenge!" answers the little 
 Italian, who has been studying her fitful moods. 
 
 "The Goddess of Revenge! Do you think I could 
 pose for that role?" 
 
 Here Amadie shocks her; he says impressively! 
 "You could when you looked at the face in that book, 
 bella mia! But I will arrange for the sittings, for 
 time is precious to me now, more than ever." So he 
 goes away, leaving her pondering upon his words. 
 
 "Did I look like that ?" she thinks to herself; then 
 ejaculates, "Yes, I did!" and looks it again. And 
 reading over the book she mutters: "The son the 
 son of the father. Why not unto the third and 
 fourth generation?" next mutters intensely: "As 
 his father built up his fortune upon the ruin of me and 
 mine, so will I build up my fortune on the ruin of him 
 *nd his," And gazing at a mirror that reflects all her
 
 6a HER SENATOR. 
 
 seductive loveliness she murmurs: "I will be his 
 Cleopatra ! " 
 
 Two hours later Claude, striding in, finds his wife 
 looking a picture of excited beauty. She is already 
 dressed for the evening and cries: " Run along quick, 
 you lazy fellow, and get on your dinner togs. Mr. 
 Steinbergh has invited us. " 
 
 "That means a champagne spread," returns her 
 husband, eagerly. "But why are you so to the good 
 this evening, Evie ? " 
 
 "Congratulate me, dear boy," she answers effu- 
 sively, with a slight, nervous laugh; then utters these 
 curious words: " I HAVE FOUND MY SENATOR! " 
 
 To this her spouse returns snarlingly: "God help 
 him!"
 
 HER SENATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A NIGHT AT KOSTER ft BIAI/S. 
 
 THIRTY minutes afterwards, Evelyn Montressor ar- 
 rayed in as breezy and fetching a Parisian toilet as can 
 be purchased on credit in New York, perfect as to boots 
 and gloves, a dainty little Parisian bonnet perched 
 upon her head, and bearing in her hand a white mass of 
 fluffy lace she calls a parasol, steps down from her 
 apartment and is landed into a carriage by Claude, 
 who in evening dress looks very English and very 
 " chappie," a prospect of a dinner always brightening 
 his artistic nature. 
 
 "Tell the driver McGowan's Pass Tavern. We'll 
 dine coolly amid green trees if we roast afterward at 
 Koster & Bial's," remarks the lady to her husband. 
 
 So they drive out of the dust and heat of the city 
 into the beautiful breathing spot for pent up New York 
 yclept Central Park. Here they find green trees and a 
 pleasant breeze awaiting them, and rolling up the East 
 Drive mingle with the turnouts of those who have es- 
 caped from hot pavements to suggestions of the coun- 
 try, very well contented with themselves at least 
 Claude is though the lady once or twice knits her 
 pretty brows and pensively taps with parasol a dainty 
 boot that peeps from under her white dress. 
 
 "What are you thinking of Evie ?" he asks, noting 
 her abstraction. - 
 
 11 Your she answers, and the blue eyes look roguishly 
 into his. 
 
 "And what about me?" 
 
 "Aprcsl" And she falls into an uncontrollable fit of 
 laughter which is so contagious that he joins in it;
 
 64 HER SENATOR. 
 
 though Claude's laugh would probably be on the 
 other side of his mustache did he know the erratic and 
 peculiar project that is in this lady's vivacious brain in 
 regard to him. "Tell you all in a few days, dear 
 boy," she says. " Meantime enjoy yourself. Did you 
 have a naughty, pleasant visit to Betty Tolle- 
 mache ?" 
 
 Whereupon the gentleman growls: "Why do you 
 always throw up that Tollemache tome?" Then he 
 scowls and mutters: "Is it your excuse for Stein- 
 bergh?" 
 
 "Not at all; Mr. Steinbergh doesn't require any, 
 unless a man needs it for having a good heart and 
 being kind to us poor, struggling Bohemians. I only 
 mentioned the lady to show that I know all about 
 you, my Claude, and to prevent any of your usual vir- 
 tuous outbursts when I tell you what I am going to do 
 for you." 
 
 At this the lady goes to laughing again. This 
 makes Claude look glum and solemn, for generally her 
 amusement is at his expense. 
 
 "If you mean to throw my peccadillos at me, 
 Madame, to operate as an excuse for any levity upon 
 your part, you'll find you have a devilish hard cus- 
 tomer to deal with, "he says, attempting a ferocious 
 dignity and pulling his mustache savagely. 
 
 "Do you know I like you in your heroics? " answers 
 the lady, smiling at him. ' ' When I was susceptible and 
 foolish and first saw you, I thought that those great 
 blue eyes of yours were so frank, and that lion-like 
 expression, the one you've got upon your brow at 
 present proved you to be the noblest of beasts but 
 now you amuse me. That is all, my Claude ; there- 
 fore, I smile at thy heroics and thy lion-like attitude 
 and haughty mien, mon petit. But why should we quar- 
 rel when dinner is so near us ? Look pleasant, cham-
 
 HER SENATOR. 6$ 
 
 pagne is not far off; that generally makes you good 
 tempered when you don't get too much of it." 
 
 "Yes, Steinbergh always does the right thing in 
 regard to dinners," answers the gentleman, "and then 
 I know, Evie, your bark is much worse than your bite." 
 
 " Not when dinner is so near me," answers Evie, as 
 they turn from the main drive and go up the little 
 ascent that leads under the forte cochlrc of McGowan's 
 Pass Tavern, a romantic-looking restaurant with a ple- 
 beian name, a spot of beauty, the only thing ugly about 
 it being its cognomen. 
 
 " I wonder why they didn't give this pretty place a 
 charming title like the Madrid in the Bois de Boulogne 
 or La Cascade ? " remarks Evie, as she gazes upon the 
 McGowan sign. 
 
 " Aldermen !" answers her spouse sententiously as 
 he assists her out. 
 
 In truth the place justifies her adjective ! The broad 
 veranda of the villa-like edifice is filled with women in 
 the light beautiful costumes of spring which soften 
 the masculine attire that is mingled with them. Beside 
 it, along the main driveway of Central Park, roll 
 equipages and turnouts innumerable. Everything 
 from the four-in-hand of a member of the Coaching 
 Club who is beginning to think of his summer eyrie at 
 Newport, to the light trotting buggy of the sporty 
 stockbrocker, fly past, all handsomely horsed and gayly 
 comparisoned. Upon the road is the rattle of wheels 
 and patter of horses' hoofs. Upon the veranda the 
 buzz of laughter and conversation from merry voices 
 mingle with the popping of champagne corks, the click 
 of glasses, and the clash of tuneful knife and fork, as 
 agile waiters fly about. 
 
 Around this house filled with the hungry and thirsty, 
 are green grass, beautiful flowers, and the exquisite 
 foliage of endless trees and shrubs, made musical by
 
 66 HER SENAtOft. 
 
 the songs of the birds, in their branches, inspired by 
 the strains of a petit orchestra, on the portico, that is 
 playing one of the brightest melodies of Strauss. 
 
 Contrasted with the heated city, the place is refresh- 
 ing, inspiring, charming, and Evelyn, under its influ- 
 ence, is very bright and smiling as she steps forward to 
 meet Mr. Steinbergh of the Gelatine Trust, who comes 
 to greet her. 
 
 ' ' I've had a table set apart for us," remarks the 
 millionaire, who is a man of pleasant face, suave man- 
 ner and figure that is approaching dangerously near to 
 rotundity. In a few years Mr. Steinbergh will find 
 himself obese ; at present he is but a little over forty 
 and still prides himself upon his form, which is well 
 set off by clothes by one of the best tailors in New 
 York, and linen as snowy as the tops of the Andes. 
 He wears but little jewelry; a single ruby ring, whose 
 perfect stone is tinted with the finest pigeon blood, 
 being his only article of adornment, save a single pearl 
 stud in his expansive shirt front. A pair of gold rim- 
 med eye-glasses give a rather searching expression to 
 eyes that otherwise might be too soft. The gentleman 
 has an expansive, even an intellectual, forehead and a 
 mouth that, when it addresses a woman, is soft and 
 winning, but when discussing discounts, interest and 
 finance, is firmness itself. Altogether Mr. Steinbergh 
 looks a Teuton and a banker. 
 
 "I have had seats placed for six," he murmurs as he 
 leads Evie toward a table which has been beautified 
 by a centerpiece of pretty flowers and three exquisite 
 corsage bouquets. 
 
 "Six? There will be only five of us Miss Ather- 
 ton, Mr. Von Spitzer, you and I and Claude." 
 
 " I have brought another young lady here for 
 Claude," whispers t K * B 
 
 "Who?"
 
 HER SENATOR. 67 
 
 "One that I imagine will please him," laughs Mr. 
 Steinbergh; "Miss Atherton's understudy, Betty 
 Tollemache." 
 
 "What!" gasps Evie, with such an expression on 
 her face that her host says hurriedly : 
 
 " Why, you are astonished ! Your husband suggested 
 the lady himself. I I supposed she was a friend of 
 yours." 
 
 "So Claude knew of this dinner before this after- 
 noon ? " 
 
 "Yes; I asked him yesterday. He he suggested 
 Miss Tollemache. Didn't he tell you about it ? " 
 
 Whereupon Evie gives the gentleman spoken of a 
 look that might even cause him, hardened sinner as he 
 is, trepidation did he but see it, and murmurs to her- 
 self: "This destroys my last pity for him." 
 
 "Ah, I believe the rest of the party are coming," 
 remarks Mr. Steinbergh, and steps forward to greet 
 them, giving her chance of speech with Claude, who 
 looks surlily at her and mutters: 
 
 " I took you at your word. You said I could go my 
 way. I'm doing it." 
 
 "Precisely. But still I think good taste would have 
 suggested to you the fact that though the sight of this 
 young lady may be very pleasant to you, it is not so 
 agreeable to me. I admire the exquisite delicacy of 
 your artistic soul, if you have any, dear boy. How- 
 ever, I shall now have an opportunity of judging 
 whether your taste has improved since you first saw 
 me." 
 
 Then she steps forward and greets Flora Atherton, 
 who is a girl of lithe figure and expressive face, 
 though there is a tinge of sadness upon it curious in 
 the features of a comedienne. For her great potency 
 upon the stage is that she says funny lines very sadly 
 and plays ingenues in a shuddering, timid, trembling
 
 68 HER SENATOR. 
 
 style that sets an audience wild at her bashful naivett 
 
 "I am delighted to meet you, Mrs. Montressor," 
 says the actress. "I have felt as if I knew you ever 
 since Von Spitzer an hour ago told me you had sent 
 me your love." 
 
 "Yes, I had to give Von Spitzer something to carry 
 away with him, and I had nothing else of value, so I 
 let him carry my love to you with him." 
 
 "Von Spitzer," laughs Flora sadly, "told me you 
 had given him your love to bring to me, but he had 
 concluded to keep it for himself and present me with 
 his own instead. " 
 
 "Yes, Von Spitzer is always generous with love," 
 remarks Steinbergh. 
 
 "I've got nothing else to be liberal with," mutters 
 the critic. "If I had your pocketbook, my capitalist, 
 I would probably receive more love and give away 
 more money. But permit me, Mrs. Montressor, to 
 introduce to you Miss Betty Tollemache. I believe 
 she knows everyone here but you." 
 
 "I've often heard my husband speak of you," 
 remarks Evelyn, greeting the young lady, who is 
 standing by Mr. Steinbergh's side. 
 
 "I can return the compliment, for I've often heard 
 your husband speak of you" says Miss Betty with a 
 little giggle and veiled glance towards Claude. 
 
 Then the party sit down, Steinbergh doing the 
 honors with Evie at his right hand; and the dinner 
 begins and goes along as most dinners do, that have 
 been prepared by an excellent chef, and are served by 
 expert waiters, enlivened by generous wine, made 
 vivacious by wit, and charming by the presence of 
 beautiful women. For Miss Tollemache is a very 
 pretty girl, though of the laundried order, that at 
 thirty will be passt, and at forty will look like the 
 manicure's ghost. At present she has red cheeks,
 
 HER SENATOR. 69 
 
 bright eyes, white teeth, and incessant giggled Every- 
 thing she says commences with a titter and ends with 
 an "he-he." The titters are louder and the "he-he's'' 
 more continuous as the champagne is passed tbe 
 second time. 
 
 "What are you always he-heing for, Betty?" lan- 
 guidly questions Miss Atherton, who thinks she can be 
 severe with her understudy. "Are you always think- 
 ing of men? And which 'he-he* are you thinking 
 about at present?" 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! you funny girl! You say such 
 wicked, wicked things so sadly. I was thinking of all 
 the gentlemen present he! he! he!" punctuating 
 each giggle with a stab of eyes and point of finger at 
 each of the manly trio in succession. 
 
 "Never sacrifice grammar to a joke," says Von 
 Spitzer, sternly. "You should have said, 'Him! 
 him! him!' " 
 
 " Your etiquette, Mr. Precise, is worse than Miss 
 Betty's syntax; criticising a lady's compliment!" inter- 
 jects Steinbergh, gallantly. 
 
 "He! be! he!" giggles La Tollemache again. 
 
 "You don't respond, Montressor, to the lady whose 
 every laugh is a flattery to our sex, "murmurs the host, 
 with suggestive glance. 
 
 "No, I'm not good at repartee," answers Claude. 
 "At dinner I devote myself to cutting my meat. I 
 shall never get another chance at this meal again, or 
 this wine either," and he tosses off a bumper. "Wit 
 comes with my coffee and cigars. At present I am as 
 happy as an artist can be who hasn't sold a picture for 
 a year." 
 
 At this, Von Spitzer looks wise, and Mr. Steinbergh 
 has a conscious blush upon his face. 
 
 " Why, I don't see many of them around your rooms," 
 remarks the art critic.
 
 7 o 
 
 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "Oh, they're stowed away," replies Clau^;, non- 
 chalantly, attacking a squab that is in front of him. 
 
 At this, a crumb goes the wrong way in Evie's pretty 
 throat, and she is compelled to stifle a shriek of laughter 
 with her handkerchief. 
 
 Just here the conversation is interrupted by Mr. 
 Steinbergh rising suddenly and saying: "I see on the 
 veranda a gentleman to whom I wish to speak. Will 
 you excuse me a few minutes ? It is a matter of some 
 importance to me." 
 
 And he follows a party who had just passed them, 
 the leader of which has bowed to him. 
 
 Gazing after him carelessly, Evelyn notes that he 
 addresses a gentleman and a young lady who are just 
 about entering a carriage to drive away. 
 
 A minute after the financier returns. "You'll par- 
 don me," he remarks, "but it is a gentleman whom I 
 have just met, who is a stranger in New York, and one 
 I shall perhaps see during the winter in Washington. 
 He is the senator-elect from Populoso." 
 
 "Doctor Guernsey?" ejaculates Evelyn, suppressing, 
 by an effort, a little startled cry. 
 
 "Yes, you know him?" 
 
 "Oh, no, but I have of course read his name. Be- 
 sides, he is the gentleman who has purchased my por- 
 trait that Amadie painted." 
 
 "Ah, then you should meet. If he admired the 
 likeness what effect would the original produce upon 
 him ?" 
 
 "Or his wife ; he! he! he!" giggles La Tolle- 
 mache. 
 
 "She's a pretty, brown-haired young thing. I 
 lorgnetted her as she passed by," remarks Miss 
 Atherton. Then she adds sadly: "I always pity the 
 wives of celebrities. They have the bone so many 
 othei women long for"
 
 HER SENATOR. 71 
 
 "That doesn't apply in this case. The senator 
 is not married. The lady with him is, I believe, his 
 sister, " says the host, as coffee and cigars make their 
 appearance, and the gentlemen go to smoking at this 
 open air, free and easy dinner. 
 
 A few minutes after, Von Spitzer, who is ambitious 
 to do his share of the hospitality with his compliment- 
 ary box, suggests Koster & Bial's, and they drive 
 down in the early evening through Central Park and 
 along Fifth Avenue to Thirty-fourth Street, where that 
 home of vaudeville is at this time in full and triumph- 
 ant blast. 
 
 Von Spitzer's box is pleasantly located, number two 
 from the proscenium arch on the second tier. The one 
 between it and the stage is occupied by three or four 
 Western gentlemen, who are escorting three or four 
 ladies of somewhat shady reputation and great beauty, 
 vivacity and elan^ especially when inspired by cham- 
 pagne, which is apparently served every moment by a 
 fly-about German waiter. As the performance pro- 
 ceeds the voices of these gentlemen grow louder and 
 are easily audible in the Steinbergh loge. 
 
 The house is full, boxes and all, of the usual con- 
 glomerate audience that assembles at this house of 
 entertainment men about town, girls about town, 
 actors, musicians, and the general public, including a 
 few society ladies who sit in retired nooks of their 
 boxes, permitting their escorts to occupy the front and 
 conspicuous places, and enjoy the performance, which 
 is a very good one in its way. 
 
 "The bill is a fine one to-night," remarks Von 
 Spitzer, looking over the programme. " Miss Vesta 
 Empire is going to sing ' Daddy Will Not Buy Me a 
 Bow- Wow,' and the orchestra are to accompany hei 
 with the barks and growls of dogs. Rather a new idea 
 arid beastly degrading to the musicians. It would not
 
 fa HER SENATOR. 
 
 surprise me if the orchestra struck. Blowenheim, the 
 conductor, declares that if it were winter and the Met- 
 ropolitan were open, they would, but during the sum- 
 mer engagements are scarce. Ah, he sees me! He 
 will probably come up, and his woes will amuse you 
 during the intermission." 
 
 Evie has no ears for this. The conversation of the 
 Western gentlemen in the box next to hers is exciting 
 her interest and attention. 
 
 "It was the slickest election I ever seed," remarks 
 one of them. " Doc Guernsey went through that legis- 
 lature like four-year-old whisky! It was a he old 
 fight, and we never used a single cent to bribe 'em." 
 
 "And your man from Populoso got elected and 
 didn't spend a cent? " I'll believe that," says the 
 other, when these fairies here " he indicates the ladies 
 in their box " refuse wine!" 
 
 "Which they won't do while you have a bill in 
 your pocket," laughs one of the fair ones addressed. 
 " Waiter, another bottle ! Fizz ! scoot bang ! 
 A-a-ah!" 
 
 "Yes," repeats the first speaker, " we did it without 
 a red cent. You see, Guernsey and his crowd control 
 the Stock Exchange out there. I handled the matter 
 did the patriotic told our party in the Legislature 
 that we wouldn't buy 'em ; that it was against our prin- 
 ciples to buy anything, but that we would give 'em a 
 hint that would permit 'em to make a good deal more 
 money than they could get any other way, and that 
 was to buy Onyx mining stock at a hundred dollars a 
 share ; we would fix it with the brokers so they would 
 carry it for them ' buyer 30.' They jumped us, and 
 we fixed each one of 'em by a hundred shares of stock 
 ' Buyer 30 ' then we hoisted the stock up to three 
 hundred dollars." 
 
 "How grateful they were to us. Twenty thousand
 
 HER SENATOR. 73 
 
 dollars apiece on paper. Onyx was 320 bid, and they 
 were so happy all except Bullem, who had insisted up- 
 on cash, so we had given Bullem eighteen hundred. So 
 nt four they caucussed and nominated Guernsey, and at 
 eleven that night they elected him, and every one of 
 the critters held on to his stock. At twelve at night 
 we got Bullem drunk and abstracted his eighteen hun- 
 dred, and he hasn't dared to tell any one about it. And 
 the next morning, at the opening of the Board, Onyx 
 fell to ninety dollars first sale, and now the Legislature 
 are hunting Board ' Buyer 30.' I reckon when Guern- 
 sey wants a reelection he'll have to make it a cash 
 transaction."* 
 
 "Well, if I know Bob Bullem, he may make trouble 
 about that. He's not a man to stand by and see eight- 
 een hundred dollars go out of his pocket without let- 
 ting some one know it. Has Guernsey any idea of 
 the cash transaction?" 
 
 ** Not a word. Guernsey is a man of the strictest 
 probity and the highest honor. He absolutely refused 
 to put up a cent. The eighteen hundred was advanced 
 to Bullem by a man who intended to get it away from 
 him as soon as the election was over. Guernsey, how- 
 ever, remarked that he did not object to the legisla- 
 ture speculating if they were cute enough to make 
 money by it. You see, Guernsey is a man of Yale 
 training, mellowed and expanded by Western life. 
 Gee Wiz ! look at that girl on the stage, ain't she a per- 
 simmon? Wouldn't she get the silver dollars thrown 
 on the stage to her out in our camp ? Here's some of 
 mine, sissy," and the Westerner dives his hand into his 
 pocket and a silver shower descends upon the young 
 
 * For further details of thii peculiar manner of effecting a 
 senatorial election read the editorials of the Carson City, 
 Nevada, newspapers after the extraordinary fall in Ophir on 
 the San Franciico Stock Board in 1876. THE EDITOR.
 
 74 HER SENATOR. 
 
 lady who is singing "Daddy Will Not Buy Me a Bow- 
 Wow," the orchestra growling and barking in a most 
 savage German manner, as they play the accompani- 
 ment to the chorus. 
 
 Then intermission comes mingled with the strains 
 of the Hungarian band upstairs, and the leader of the 
 orchestra flies excitedly up to tell his woes to Von 
 Spitzer, the critic. 
 
 Too excited to think of anybody else in the 
 box, Herr Blowenheim wipes the perspiration from 
 a high, romantic German brow, and ejaculates : 
 " Gott in Himmcl! Did you see zat outrage? My 
 orchestra required to growl and bark like bow- 
 wows, and doing it! I myself had to imitate a Siberian 
 wolf hound. But it ees ze last! I will stand no 
 more! My orchestra has been required to make them- 
 selves jokes for comedians, to answer stupid questions 
 put to zem from the stage, to cheer, to applaud, to 
 dodge ze conjurer when he pretends to let ze cannon 
 ball fall on zem, to permit the ventriloquist to squeeze 
 his accursed manikin and squirt water all over zem ! 
 Spilled at by a lay figure ! And we are musicians we 
 who can play Wagner at sight! What haf we come 
 to?" 
 
 "Five dollars a night, I imagine," laughs Von Spit- 
 zer. " That's the price, isn't it ? " 
 
 "But I must be going. Ladies, I drinks your 
 healths," replies the German musician. " Frauleins, 
 I know your beautiful eyes look in pity on my poor 
 orchestra and me. In the next act a young lady music 
 hall singer will come, and will stand over the footlights 
 and will make loaf to me in her brassy, London way, 
 until I blush mid shame as I tink of my poor wife at 
 home, and yet I will have to pretend to be coy and 
 look at her as if I loafed her, and say, 'Ah, there!' 
 and ' Oh, my! ' and ' You're as pretty as a picshure! '
 
 HER SENATOR. 75 
 
 and ' I would like to kees you ! ' which always makes 
 the house scream with laughter though, Mein Gott ! 
 I am an artist and this is summer! " 
 
 With this, Herr Blowenheim flies away to his dismal 
 duties, muttering to himself, " Sumer day zer will be 
 a discord ! " 
 
 But Evie heeds not this. She is listening to the 
 conversation of the two gentlemen in the next box, 
 which has grown low and confidential, but as it is 
 right at her ear she does not miss it. They are unin- 
 terrupted in their conclave, as the ladies in their party 
 are devoting themselves at present entirely to the 
 champagne, which is still flowing with steady pop and 
 gurgle. 
 
 "You say Bullem is going to make trouble about 
 that matter ? Why doesn't Guernsey shut him off ? " 
 
 "He won't! He says it's against his principles. 
 He never gave a cent to bribe a man in his life, and he 
 never will. Guernsey is as noble a specimen brick as 
 ever trod the Senate from the West. Look at him ! 
 Not one dollar did he put up. Not one man is a cent 
 richer for voting for him. That's more than can be said 
 of most any other Senator that has been elected from 
 our section since I was knee-high to growing corn! 
 And look at his private life. No woman ever came 
 within four hundred and seventy-five feet of getting 
 the grip on Guernsey." 
 
 " That's because his affinity hasn't come along." 
 
 "Reckon you're right," laughs the other. " There's 
 a girl made for every fellow, and some of them has a 
 good many extras. But I'll venture this, that if Doc 
 Guernsey ever gits in love, a prairie afire won't be 
 nothing to him. He's no man of half measures, he 
 ain't." 
 
 "Risin* forty and never been in the tender?" 
 queries the first in an incredulous voice.
 
 76 HER SENATOR. 
 
 The answer that comes astonishes Evie. 
 
 " Oh yes he is. He's devoted to his sister, and not 
 much to wonder at. She's the finest of the fine be- 
 tween the Missouri River and the Sierras. Mattie 
 Guernsey's been edicated in a St. Louis seminary, and 
 can discount a duchess on etiquette, and give points 
 to a French Profess' on playing the piano." 
 
 "Then you think if he were in love, he'd be a wild 
 one?" 
 
 "You bet! He's unplowed ground, he is, and would 
 bring up a fine crop of emotional insanity." 
 
 "Well, he'll get a good chance at it in Washingtqn, " 
 is the reply. "But I understand Guernsey is going to 
 spend a month or two at Saratoga. The girls will 
 break him in there. Speaking of girls, that's a fine- 
 looking one in the box opposite. Seems to me the 
 diamond on my shirt front has caught her. " 
 
 With this the party speaking levels an opera-glass at 
 the beauty across the theater, and forgets, in the con- 
 templation of her loveliness, to continue the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 Just at this moment a few words from her own box 
 wafted to Evie's ears obliterate even Guernsey from 
 her mind. 
 
 Flora Atherton is speaking. 
 
 "You say, Von Spitzer," remarks the comedienne, 
 "that men only get curious names at college. Don't 
 you think that girls have curious names also ? Talk 
 about your Beef Wheelers, Doggy Trenchards and 
 Buck Thorns I once knew a girl we called French 
 Eva. " 
 
 With a start Evelyn looks at the sad comedienne 
 and forces memory backward ; then suddenly she mur- 
 murs under her breath: " Sallie!" but by an effort re- 
 strains herself from making recognition at the moment. 
 *'Miss Atherton wouldn't care/' she thinks bitterly,
 
 HER SENATOR. 77 
 
 " to have these gentlemen bowing before her pretty 
 feet, guess that she had been an ttbue of the Shep- 
 herd's Fold neither would I. Now I know where the 
 startled-deer expression in her eyes comes from and to 
 whose hands she owes that nervous timidity of manner 
 and dodge-before-you're-hit skip, that has made her 
 crying ingenues such howling successes." 
 
 Then suddenly it flashes through her mind : "Per- 
 haps Sallie can tell me what became of my sister!" 
 and she seeks an immediate chance to ask the question. 
 
 A moment after Mr. Steinbergh suggests supper, 
 which project is immediately supported by Von Spitzer, 
 who says in a frightened tone of voice: "The living 
 pictures are coming; let us go! " 
 
 "You don't approve of that style of art, Mr. Von 
 Spitzer ?" says the capitalist, laughing. 
 
 "Art!" shrieks the critic. "Don't insult art by 
 applying it to them. What are their nudes silk tights ! 
 Who can get flesh tints out of silk tights ? " 
 
 "Good gracious! you wouldn't have them without 
 silk tights? He, he, he! " giggles La Tollemache from 
 the back of the box. 
 
 "Yes, I would! Art is art and flesh tints are flesh 
 tints. Art must be supreme. Art is above morality! 
 Art is above decency ! Art! ART ! " mutters the excited 
 German. 
 
 " Then let us fly from your abomination," remarks 
 Steinbergh. 
 
 With this the party rise. 
 
 A few minutes after they find themselves very com- 
 fortably seated at supper in the Arena. During this 
 meal Mrs. Montressor has no chance of private con- 
 verse with Miss Atherton. But as they come out to 
 their carriages on Thirty first street, just at the door- 
 way, a creature of big frame, but shrunken appearance, 
 clad in the seediest and shiniest of dilapidated black
 
 78 HER SENATOR. 
 
 clothes, with an electric battery, ornamented by 
 jingling bells, slung over him, suddenly runs up to 
 them, and, extending the handles of the machine right 
 in Miss Atherton's face, cries out : 
 
 "Shock, miss? Only ten cents for an electric 
 shock!" 
 
 Gazing at him under the arc-lights, the comedienne 
 gives a faint shriek and almost faints into Von Spitzer's 
 ready arms. 
 
 " What is the matter? Get away from here!" cries 
 Claude, angrily. 
 
 " I won't move on unless I get a dollar. That's ten 
 cents a shock for the whole party. SHOCK, SIR?" 
 
 "Here's a dollar, and I'll get a policeman if you 
 don't move on," replies Steinbergh, excitedly. " You 
 have frightened the lady, sir. " 
 
 " Won't you take it out in shocks? I like to earn 
 my money. I'm Electricity Joe. This isn't my regu- 
 lar stamping ground ; the Bowery's the place I'm best 
 known. Won't you take a ten-cent shock ? Won't 
 you take it out in trade ? You won't ? Must I move 
 on ? Then I'll move /" 
 
 And the creature goes shuffling away as they assist 
 Flora into a carriage. 
 
 " What does she mean by mumbling so ? '' ejaculates 
 Von Spitzer. " I've a mind to go after that wretch and 
 break his back." 
 
 But certain words have come to Evie from the come- 
 dienne that make her anxious to interfere. She says: 
 "Yes, go after him, Von Spitzer; break his back! 
 I'll take Flora home. She's sick. The wear and tear 
 of this season on the stage have been too much for 
 her." 
 
 "Can't I accompany you ?" volunteers Steinbergh. 
 
 " No; I'll go with her only I." She steps into the 
 carriage, while Steinbergh gives the address to the
 
 HER SENATOR. 79 
 
 hack driver. "She's better now. Go away, all of 
 you." 
 
 And the carriage drives off, with Evelyn Montressor 
 gazing at Flora Atherton, who is muttering to herself: 
 "Mawley! Mawley ! MAWLEY! " 
 
 A few minutes after, by the aid of Evie's smelling 
 bottle, Flora regains her senses, shudders, and says 
 nothing. 
 
 "Why did you cry out 'Mawley!' Sallie ?" asks 
 Evie, eagerly. 
 
 Then, with a start, the comedienne whispers: "You 
 know me ?" 
 
 "Yes, you are Sallie Sallie, of the Shepherd's 
 Fold." Then she adds, quietly: "I am French 
 Eva!" 
 
 "What! the girl who sold the Bible to give me pie 
 and cake?" 
 
 " Yes. Why did you cry out Mawley' ? " 
 
 "Didn't you see him didn't you recognize him? 
 The man with the electric machine? It was Mawley 
 Mawley MAWLEY !" 
 
 "MAWLEY!" echoes Evie with a suppressed cry. 
 "Oh, how I hope Von Spitzer did break his back!" 
 Then she goes on impetuously: "You were at the Fold 
 when I ran away. Sallie, what became of my sister ?" 
 
 " Mathilde Mattie Mignonnette?" 
 
 ' ' Yes ; that's what I called her Mignonnette. What 
 became of her?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 "Try and recollect THINK!" 
 
 " I will give me time. The sight of that man took 
 me back it's so many years ago. Whenever I think 
 of Mawley I tremble. I wake up now even now 
 shrieking and screaming in my bed at night dreaming 
 he is beating me, Evie, how he used to whip me! He 
 didn't you ; he was afraid of you, There was always
 
 80 HER SENATOR. 
 
 something of the devil in you that saved you; but I I 
 was young; I was a child. Mawley had no mercy on 
 the helpless ones." 
 
 "But my sister?" 
 
 " Let me think, Evie. Come into my rooms with 
 me when we get home. I'll try and remember every- 
 thing that I can. Only let me get out of the darkness 
 into the light. " 
 
 This is soon done. The carriage is at Miss Ather- 
 ton's pretty apartment at the Vendome, and assisting 
 her up the stairs Evelyn soon finds herself with her 
 charge in an artistic little parlor brilliantly lighted. 
 
 " Now," she says, " Sallie, you are out of the dark- 
 ness. Mawley is not here. Get your wits together. 
 Tell me of my sister." 
 
 "Well, after you had gone you know that very day 
 you stole the Bible two gentlemen came in and one of 
 them, the old one, took Mattie in his arms and kissed 
 her, and I I had never been kissed in my life and I 
 wanted one, and I told the young gentleman who was 
 with him that I had never had a kiss, and he gave me 
 one. The tears came into his eyes and he threatened 
 to chastise Mawley ; but the older man the one with 
 gray hair on his temples the one who had kissed your 
 sister restrained the younger. Then they went away, 
 taking Mathilde with them. And then Mawley was 
 like a devil. You remember Annie poor Annie ? I 
 can hear her screams now. Mawley thought no one 
 dare trouble him when they had not prosecuted him. 
 But, finally, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty 
 to Children " 
 
 "Yes, I know all about that," answers Evie; "but 
 my sister?" 
 
 " I don't know where they took her. SI/" Disappeared 
 after that day. " 
 
 ' ' Disappeared ! Is she dead ? "
 
 HER SENATOR. 8 1 
 
 " How can I tell ? I can hardly remember about 
 myself then. All I know is that when the Fold was 
 broken up, kind hands were outstretched to me, and I 
 was given a chance in this world. And, do you know, 
 I believe that Mawley has made my dramatic success. 
 They say I can cry more naturally than any woman on 
 
 the stage. I can ! I simply think of Mawley, " and 
 
 tears commence even now to roll down the beautiful 
 actress's fair cheeks. " They wanted me to play Smike 
 in Nicholas Nickleby. My managers said it would be 
 the greatest hit in the world, but I dare not attempt 
 the role. I think I would make a success the first 
 night and die of nervous prostration the next day 
 for I should live the part ! But where are you going ? " 
 
 " I'm going after Electricity Joe, that's where I'm 
 going." 
 
 "To-night?" 
 
 "Now!" 
 
 "Alone ?" 
 
 " Will you come with me ? " 
 
 "O Heavens, no! How brave you are." 
 
 But Evelyn astonishes the actress. She says: "I 
 will forgive him if he tells me where to find my sister! " 
 and runs from the room, going down to the carriage 
 hurriedly. Getting in, she tells the driver to go first 
 to the Arena restaurant; where she had last seen Elec- 
 tricity Joe. 
 
 At this place, engaging a District Telegraph boy, she 
 puts him into the carriage with her and pursues the 
 electricity vender, and finally overtaking him on the 
 Bowery, by the electric light interviews him and says: 
 "You know me ? " 
 
 And he cries: " Shock ? Ten cents! " 
 
 She says : " I know you ! " 
 
 "Do you ? Shock, ten cents!" 
 
 "You are the Reverend Jonas Mawley."
 
 82 HER SENATOR. 
 
 Here Electricity Joe utters a horrible shriek and sets 
 his electric machine in motion, jingling his bells and 
 crying: "No, no, they killed him in prison." 
 
 " They did not. You are alive. I am French Eva !" 
 
 At this he utters a horrible chuckle and whispers 
 tremblingly: "Don't give me away! I shocked thirty 
 children to death to-day with electricity." 
 
 "My sister, Mathilde you remember her? Little 
 Mattie Mignonncttc you know?" begs Evie desper- 
 ately and implores him to give her tidings of her loved 
 and lost one! 
 
 At which he utters another cry and mutters: "Yes, 
 I shocked her, too." 
 
 " Oh, Heavens! Have you no mind ? " 
 
 " No, but I have a stomach. Ten cents for a shock ; 
 please take a shock for ten cents! If you won't take 
 a shock ;- let the boy take a shock! It'll register just 
 how much voltage he can stand without dying ! " 
 
 At this the District Telegraph boy runs away with a 
 cry of terror. 
 
 But Mrs. Montressor hardly thinks of the boy. She 
 is muttering hoarsely to herself: " God, in punishing 
 him, has punished me. God, in destroying his mind, 
 has wrecked my last hope of seeing Mathilde again, of 
 knowing whether she is living or dead ! "
 
 HER SENATOR 83 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 "BEWARE OF ALIMONY!" 
 
 WITH disappointment in her soul Evelyn reenters 
 her cab, and in a broken voice gives the driver her 
 address. 
 
 "It is but another effort that has failed," she 
 mutters. "If he had only had his mind perchance 
 I would have seen my sister's face," then cries with 
 tearless sobs: "Mathilde! Mathilde! I, who should 
 have protected you, deserted you. But I couldn't bear 
 to stay to be beaten. You'll remember that, darling, 
 and forgive me ! " 
 
 But, forced by very impotency to be stoical on this 
 matter, after a time the fair wanderer brings herself to 
 calmness, just as the carriage stops. 
 
 Entering her apartment Evie finds, to her astonish- 
 ment, Claude and Von Spitzer making a very comfort- 
 able time of it over a bottle of champagne and cigars 
 of exquisite aroma. " Who has paid for it? " she won- 
 ders. She knows the critic has not. 
 
 But this is elucidated, she thinks, by Claude's open- 
 ing remarks. 
 
 He says: " Steinbergh was here and waited to find 
 out if Miss Atherton had got to the good again, but 
 you were so long coming old Jelly Trust was compelled 
 to leave, so Heinrich and I have been consoling our- 
 selves " 
 
 "For the absence of beauty with the presence of 
 wine," interjects Von Spitzer effusively. "How is 
 the charming Miss Flora? Oh, it was cruel, cruel, not 
 to let me accompany you to her home."
 
 84 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "Oh, Flora is entirely recovered," replies Evelyn 
 lightly. "A mere attack of the nerves, and your 
 presence I am sure would have agitated her." 
 
 This remark puts the critic in happy and triumphant 
 mind. He says: " Mein Gott ! the divine comedienne! 
 It is well I did not go. Her tears of pathos would 
 have driven me distracted. But good-night, Mrs. 
 Montressor, I kiss your sweet hand for your attentions 
 to Flora. AuJ wieder sehcn, my Claude, many thanks for 
 the champagne and cigars," and departs, leaving Evelyn 
 wondering: "Can it be possible that my husband has 
 money in his pocket ? " 
 
 She puts this thought aside, remembering Steinbergh 
 has been there, and imagining that Mecsenas must have 
 purchased the entertainment. 
 
 The next morning, however, financial shock comes to 
 her. Signer Amadie not making his appearance with 
 her half of the thousand dollars, she writes the Italian 
 a little note asking him if he will please send it to her. 
 
 This the artist answers breathless and in person, 
 crying as he comes in : " Dea mia, do you want all for 
 which I sold the picture ? Is art to have nothing and 
 beauty everything ?" 
 
 " No, but beauty wants her half." 
 
 " That I have already given you." 
 
 " Given me ? Impossible !" 
 
 "Certainly, through your husband. I gave it to him 
 yesterday. I was coming back with it. At the door 
 he met me. I said, ' It is the price of your wife's sit- 
 tings for me. Would you be kind enough to hand it 
 to her !' And he said he would with a grand deal of 
 pleasure." 
 
 " The miserable !" cries Evie. " Now I know where 
 the cigars and champagne came from. The sybarite ! 
 the drone " 
 
 "Where is he?" cries the artist, "the embezzler,
 
 HER SENATOR. 85 
 
 the defaulter. For this crime he shall answer to me, 
 Amadie, the Italian !" 
 
 "That is impossible," answers Evelyn. "Mr. 
 Montressor is at present away, spending the money. I 
 know him. Too well I know him !" and she clenches 
 her hands and bites her lips until the blood comes, for 
 this is a mishap almost fatal to her plan. "It 
 is twenty to one," she continues, "that Claude is at 
 the Coney Island Jockey Club backing the favorites;" 
 then ejaculates eagerly : "God grant that he wins !" 
 next sighs, "but Claude is a bad gambler. Go away, 
 Amadie, I am broken-hearted." 
 
 "You will sit for me once more ; I will paint a great 
 picture the Goddess of Revenge, shedding tears over 
 losing it." 
 
 "Yes, I might as well do that as fret my heart out 
 here, waiting for him. " 
 
 So she spends part of the afternoon at the studio of the 
 Italian, where he outlines a picture that may some day 
 make him famous. 
 
 "We will get more than a thousand dollars for this," 
 remarks Amadie, as she finishes the sitting. "Where 
 are you going now ? " 
 
 "To see how Flora Atherton is to-day," Evie replies. 
 "She was suffering from nervous prostration last night. " 
 
 "Ah, the beautiful, yet sad, comedienne. I have 
 longed for her face. If I could put it on canvas, if I 
 could catch the smile and the tear together. Gran Dio! 
 what a superb picture ! An ideal of the naughty girl 
 stealing the cherries and caught at it ! I will accom- 
 pany you," suggests the artist in his off-hand, foreign 
 way, not thinking it necessary to be asked. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards they are at the Vendome, 
 where, to Amadie's disgust, the actress's maid informs 
 them that Miss Atherton is indisposed but will see 
 Mrs. Montressor. ^
 
 86 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "I will come back for you in half an hour. Cheer 
 her up and get her to see me. If she will not sit for 
 me I will catch her face as I look at it. I must have 
 those eyes. You say something that makes her cry, 
 and I will catch the tear and will bless you ! " 
 
 A minute after Evelyn is ushered into the actress's 
 pretty parlor and there received by Miss Atherton, who, 
 in a delicate teagown, looks distressed beauty idealized. 
 
 " I had an awful night of it," she says, with a 
 pathetic nioue. "I dreamt of him! And you had 
 the courage to go after him ? Did you see him ? " 
 
 'Yes," replies E vie sadly, "but Mawley's mind is 
 gone, he has no memory. I could learn nothing of 
 my sister. Can't you recollect something more of 
 of Mignonnettel " and tears gleam in the lovely blue 
 eyes. 
 
 " Nothing. I tried to think and that brought on 
 my nightmare. Oh, it was awful! I had a nerve- 
 stretching dream. I dreamt I was back at the 
 Fold; I dreamt I was hungry; I dreamt you stole four 
 bibles; then I dreamt Mawley shocked us all with 
 electricity; and then I shrieked oh, how I shrieked! 
 The house porter came up. The people in the adjoin- 
 ing apartments flew out of their rooms. It was about 
 as bad as an alarm of fire. But you don't look well, 
 Evelyn you'll let me call you Evelyn ?" 
 
 "Yes, but I won't call you Sally, because you have 
 another name Flora. How did you get it ? " 
 
 "Oh, my nom de thtdtre. Sallie Brackett isn't as 
 alluring on posters as Flora Atherton. After the Fold, 
 kind people took me. I was brought up even as one 
 of them. I shared their little. But they have passed 
 away and left me to fight my own battle with the 
 world ; and Mawley has helped me to do it. And you, 
 Evelyn, what became of you when you ran away ?" 
 
 "I don't know. I. was half crazy!" mutters Mrs.
 
 HER SENATOR. 87 
 
 Montressor, a hunted look coming into her blue 
 eyes. "All I thought of was to get as far as possible 
 from Mawley. Somehow I wandered to Fourteenth 
 street. The flaming gas jets of a theatre caught my 
 eye and announced French Opera. I heard French! 
 the language that I loved, the tongue that had been 
 spoken to me in Paris, when I was rich and happy, and 
 had loving kindness and a father's care, and it seemed 
 to me the sounds of home. In America I had been 
 treated as a pauper; English was to me a cruel tongue, 
 French the language of kindness. I followed some 
 chorus girls, listening to their Parisian argot that gave 
 me hope. Into the stage door I went with them and 
 there I believe I fainted from hunger, from weakness. 
 If you want quick charity turn to the theatrical profes- 
 sion. They haven't much, but they'll give you what 
 they've got. I was revived, I believe, with champagne 
 from a neighboring saloon, and fed on free lunch from 
 the same hospitable counter. The prima donna made 
 a pet of me. A Frenchwoman always loves one who can 
 speak her language when she is away from home. I jab- 
 bered baby French to her and caught her heart. She 
 tried my voice, and I soon sang small parts in the opera, 
 but I would not leave this country to go to Paris with her 
 a few years afterward, because I wanted to find my 
 sister. She was in America; that was my only chance 
 of seeing Mathilde again. I could not destroy it. So I 
 remained here, went on the concert stage not in New 
 York, but in small places. On one of these tours I 
 met Claude. He was the accompanist. You know he 
 does a little of everything. He acts badly, plays badly, 
 paints badly, but he does them all! Well, you know 
 his lion head. I was very young, I felt lonely, Claude 
 felt lonely. One day he said, ' Suppose we are lonely 
 together? ' So we were married. The concert tour 
 was my honeymoon ; the return from it an awakeniw;
 
 88 HER SENATOR. 
 
 Claude is susceptible. He loves devotedly, but not 
 for long. So, voila ! behold me ! " 
 
 She has hardly finished when Signer Amadie is 
 announced. "You'll see him a few minutes, won't 
 you?" asks Evie. "You know he painted my picture." 
 
 "Oh, that beautiful one! " replies the actress. Then 
 she adds: " I wish he would paint mine." 
 
 "He will, bravo! he will," cries Mrs. Montressor, 
 clapping her hands. "You'll see him for a few min- 
 utes to arrange the sittings, won't you ? He's the 
 nicest little Italian fellow in the world. His heart is 
 as soft as his brush." 
 
 " Yes, if he will promise to paint me." 
 
 " I guarantee it." 
 
 A minute after, with his best bow the Italian conies 
 in and is presented. 
 
 "I promised Flora," remarks Evelyn, "that if she 
 would receive you this afternoon you would paint her 
 portrait. Will you do it ? " 
 
 " Will I not ? Let me put you two in a group, ah-h! 
 an inspiration a group! The Goddess of Revenge 
 looking down at her victim. They will shrink from 
 your great eyes, Madame Montressor, but Ha, ha, 
 ha! How they will laugh at the victim. Or better 
 still, a home group the clandestine marriage. One 
 sister letting the cat out of the bag on the other! " 
 
 At this they burst into laughter, and a moment after 
 Evelyn takes the artist away, for she sees that Flora 
 needs rest. 
 
 To-day is the beginning of a charming friendship 
 between these two. 
 
 So the little Italian accompanies Mrs. Montressor to 
 a quiet dinner at the Cafe Martin, where Evie from an 
 adjoining table hears some things that make her grind 
 the pearls she calls teeth over her entrte. 
 
 "You should have seen La Tollemache play th
 
 HER SENATOR. 89 
 
 races to-day," remarks a sporty-looking man to his vis- 
 a-vis who is equally sporty in appearance. She was 
 backing the favorites and losing her money." 
 
 "Her money?" says the other. "She hasn't got 
 any." 
 
 "Well then, his money. Whenever little Tolle- 
 mache won she pocketed the stakes, and he always 
 bought the tickets." 
 
 " So she's caught a backer." 
 
 "I should say so. He's probably an English lord 
 or a dude. He's as chappie a young fellow as ever 
 sucked a cane or turned up his pants! " 
 
 And the gentleman gives a short but graphic descrip- 
 tion of Mrs. Montressor's absent lord and master. 
 
 Little Amadie does not understand to whom this 
 conversation refers as he has never heard of Miss 
 Tollemache. He, however, notes that his companion 
 is nervous, perchance unhappy. 
 
 " You are thinking of your loss ? " he says. 
 
 " Yes I want to meet him," she answers almost sav- 
 agely. " Perhaps he's at home now, come! " and tak- 
 ing the Italian's arm Evie walks to her apartment with 
 a step that bodes no good to Claude Auchester Mon- 
 tressorwhen his pretty wife meets him. 
 
 But Claude is still absent and Amadie leaves her to 
 her reflections which are many, various, good, bad and 
 indifferent; but all center on one point, the campaign 
 she has planned and the sinews of war to carry it out. 
 
 This gloomy reverie is broken in upon by a District 
 Telegraph boy, who hands her a letter. 
 
 Tearing it open, she reads: 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. MONTRESSOR : If you have another of the 
 Impressionist's pictures left, I have room for it upon my wall. 
 Something lurid would relieve the monotony of the old mas- 
 ters. I saw a " sunset" on your easel. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 AUGUST MORRIS STEINBERGH,
 
 90 HER SENATOR, 
 
 "The generous fellow!" she murmurs; "he has 
 heard of my husband's peculation from Amadie." 
 
 Ten minutes after Claude's easel has no picture upon 
 it. "Sunset" is packed and forwarded to the kindly 
 financier, with this note: 
 
 MY DEAR MR. STEINBERGH : Instead of giving me the 
 money for this picture, which, understand me, is worth no 
 more than the others, would you kindly invest it for me? 
 Couldn't you take a 'flier' I believe I use the right term in 
 some stock or bond, something that you know will go up and 
 something you are sure will not go down ? Give me the bene- 
 fit of your financial brain, come and see me, and receive the 
 thanks of Yours most gratefully, 
 
 EVELYN MONTRESSOR. 
 
 "Yes, that is better," she thinks. "One hundred 
 dollars is nothing to me. I will need thousands to 
 make my coup. That worthless Claude has perhaps 
 ruined my chances of senatorial speculation." 
 
 A few minutes after the worthless Claude presents 
 himself in very bad humor. The betting ring at the 
 Coney Island Jockey Club has not produced good re- 
 sults either upon his pocket or his temper. 
 
 "Where the devil is my picture? " he growls, look- 
 ing around for something to find fault with. 
 
 "Where it should be out of sight" 
 
 "Yes, it is out of sight," he answers; "out of sight 
 as a work of art. I noticed it turned upside down, 
 that you had labeled it ' Sunset.' Right side up it was 
 commonplace, but upside down it was grand, the work 
 of a genius. After this I paint on my head. And 
 what have you done with this chef-d'auvre ! " 
 
 " What have you done with my money ? " she says. 
 " The five hundred dollars Amadie gave you to give to 
 me. Answer me that ! " 
 
 " I will! " he returns shortly. "I have ventured it 
 and lost it." 
 
 "What ! All of it ? " There is pathos in her cry.
 
 HER SENATOR. 01 
 
 " Yes, every red cent. Oh, you needn't look at me 
 in that way," he goes on. " I know it's pathetic. But 
 it belonged to me. In the first place, it is the price for 
 loaning your beautiful features for Amadie's canvas. 
 Those features became mine when you married me. In 
 the next place, it is only taking the money that 
 belongs to me for the five pictures of my genius my 
 genius, Madame, that you sold to Steinbergh at a hun- 
 dred dollars apiece. Ah ! that hit you, didn't it ? You 
 didn't guess that I could make Von Spitzer gossip 
 over a bottle of champagne, did you ? You think your 
 husband's a fool, don't you ? " 
 
 "I do indeed, Claude," she says, looking him 
 straight in the face. "Because now I am going to tell 
 you my little plan." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " TO-MORROW I AM GOING TO DIVORCE YOU." 
 
 " What.'" 
 
 " And you are going to let me do it." 
 
 "You you don't mean it ! " stammers the young 
 man, gazing at the beauty that he feels may now be his 
 own no longer, at the sunny hair, lovely indignant 
 eyes and exquisite though trembling figure that stands 
 before him, and feeling that blessings brighten as they 
 take their flight. 
 
 "Every word of it ! and you are going to make no 
 defense in the action." , 
 
 " Why not ? You're deucedly mistaken if you don't 
 think I will my lady," mutters Claude bitterly. 
 
 " No, you are not I If you do, beware of alimony ! 
 If you consent, no alimony ! If you contest, I shall 
 demand all a jury or a judge will give me in my distress 
 and I can look very beautiful in court, my Claude ! " 
 she adds with a slight laugh. 
 
 Gazing at her he knows she can ; as she stands there 
 graceful, appealing, clinging loveliness in every glance,
 
 92 HER SENATOR. 
 
 in every pose. He literally shudders when he thinks 
 of her effect upon a jury. 
 
 "Why I I never earn much money," he falters, 
 "It's your your singing, Evie, that has kept the wolf 
 from the door." 
 
 Which in truth it has, for Evelyn's concerts through 
 New England and certain parts of the West where Chica 
 is a local favorite have kept Claude from financial ruin. 
 
 "Yes, that is true, but will not be believed by the 
 Court. A man is always supposed to be the bread- 
 winner. I shall prove through Von Spitzer, George 
 Coppe and other critics, that you have publicly stated 
 to them many, many times that your salary was two 
 hundred and twenty-five dollars a week when you were 
 on the stage. " 
 
 "Twenty-five dollars, you mean," gasps Claude 
 growing pale. 
 
 "It was twenty-five, but you always said two 
 hundred and twenty - five. I know enough about 
 juries to know that I will get great alimony from you, 
 and as you won't work and can't work, you will be put 
 in prison. That's what they do with husbands who 
 don't support their poor divorced wives. There are 
 many in Ludlow Street Jail now. Ask them about 
 alimony! See what they think about alimony! The 
 Court directs you to pay it, and if you don't you are 
 arrested for contempt, sir, and jailed. Think how 
 happy you'll be behind the bars, my Claude, for you 
 never can earn the alimony I shall get from you. And 
 into prison you will go. Our marriage was at best a 
 frivolous affair, made when I was in love with you, 
 but that seems ages ago made when I thought your 
 soul shone through your eyes, and that you were as 
 you look NOBLE! But now I will be free from you. 
 No, you needn't implore, you need not beg; seek com- 
 fort from La Tollemache, go to your Carrolia Guissipe!
 
 HER SENATOR. 93 
 
 For you and I are things apart from now on for- 
 ever." 
 
 "You have some great idea; you want to be free 
 from me! Good God! I understand now. You 
 you are going to marry Steinbergh!" he shrieks 
 with such ferocious emphasis as this idea flies 
 into his brain, that she bursts out laughing and can't 
 answer him for a moment. 
 
 " No, not Steinbergh," she finally mutters. " One 
 fling of the matrimonial dice is enough for me at 
 present. That's all. Some women would lie to you, 
 and tell you, my Claude, that they do it because you 
 have broken their hearts, but I tell you that my heart 
 is not broken, thank God; I still have a heart and 
 conscience, and I don't want to feel that I'm going to 
 love another and make another love me when I have 
 a husband that a sickly sentimentality might make the 
 world think I was wronging." 
 
 "You're going to love another you are going to 
 make another love you ? Who the deuce is he ? " 
 snarls Claude in savage astonishment. 
 
 " My senator! " she says, airily, then goes on laugh- 
 ingly: "Well, I've told you sufficient more than 
 perhaps policy would permit me to tell to a man who 
 is now, with me, a rank outsider. Is it divorce with- 
 out contest and without alimony, or is it divorce with 
 contest and with alimony, and my poor, little Claude 
 behind the bars of Ludlow Street Jail because he 
 won't pay his poor, little wifey some of the great money 
 the judge thinks his dramatic abilities command ? 
 Which is it, man cher am I free ? " 
 
 " Free! " gasps the man with rueful voice. 
 
 " Very well," she says, " then Mr Claude Auchester 
 Montressor, will you kindly oblige me by leaving my 
 apartment. It is later than I generally receive 
 visitors."
 
 94 
 
 HER SENATOR. 
 
 " Your apartment ? " 
 
 "Certainly, I pay the rent for it the furniture was 
 bought by my money. Au revoir. You may expect 
 the "summons and complaint" to-morrow morning 
 at the address to which I shall order your trunk sent! 
 Good-by. What, won't shake hands ? " 
 
 And Claude Auchester Montressor staggers out of 
 the rooms muttering to himself: " By the Lord Harry, 
 she's a wonder! " 
 
 In the street he pauses and wipes his brow as if 
 dizzy and stunned, then gazing up at the windows of 
 the room he sees a shadow thrown upon the blind, and 
 thinking of the beauty that once was his and will 
 be his no more Claude shudders and says: "She'll 
 never forgive;" then mutters savagely these curious 
 but astute words: "Who ever it is, I hate him!" 
 
 The next moment, after the manner of such natures, 
 he commences to sob, and falters: "She was the most 
 beautiful woman in the world, and I abused her. She 
 treated me like an angel, and I was a fiend to her, God 
 forgive me! " to which he adds: "Won't little Tolle- 
 mache he-he-he when she hears this." and walks 
 away whistling a merry strain from // Barbtirc. 
 
 And the woman; she who had called herself his 
 wife ? 
 
 In the room above Evelyn has sunk down sobbing 
 as if her heart would break. She knows that she has 
 given up a worthless thing but it was once hers, all 
 hers! She can remember when she thought him noble 
 and true ; when she had expected to walk through life 
 by his side. 
 
 SHE CAN REMEMBER WHEN HE LOVED HER!
 
 HER SENATOR. 95 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BURNING HER BRIDGES. 
 
 THE next morning Evelyn, who is a young woman 
 of energy, determination and action, mutters to her- 
 self as she partakes of rolls and coffee, "I must burn 
 my bridges behind me," and does so ! 
 
 Mr. Claude Auchester Montressor gets his papers in 
 the suit of Montressor vs. Montressor served upon 
 him with his trunks and other belongings. 
 
 And he making no opposition, and the proceedings 
 being hurried along by a very sharp young lawyer who 
 devotes himself to the legalities of Bohemia, a decree 
 is very shortly entered granting the prayer of Evelyn 
 Aubrey Montressor upon statutory grounds, and for- 
 bidding the defendant, Claude Auchester Montressor, 
 from ever marrying again in the State of New York 
 one of the many absurdities, crudities, and cruelties of 
 New York law, whose code has been formed, not for 
 the bestowal of justice, but for the benefit of lawyers. 
 
 These legal proceedings, of course, take some little 
 time, and are a heavy strain upon the already dimin- 
 ished resources of the fair plaintiff. 
 
 But relief comes to her from an almost forgotten 
 source. One evening Mr. Steinbergh calls upon her. 
 He has in his hand two little pieces of paper; one is an 
 account of certain sales and purchases made in the 
 stock of the Gelatine Trust, the other is a check. The 
 latter of these, with woman's business instinct, Mrs. 
 Montressor seizes and inspects, then gives a faint but 
 prolonged shriek of delight: "Four thousand two 
 hundred and fifty-seven dollars and forty-nine cents ! 
 Oh, man of the touch of gold ! "
 
 96 HER SENATOR. 
 
 " No, only with the knowledge of the insider," replies 
 Mr. Steinbergh, laughing. " You asked me to buy for 
 you with your hundred dollars some stock that was 
 sure to go up. Now, I knew of none of that kind ; but 
 I was pretty certain that I knew of one that was sure 
 to go down, so I made you a bear. Your claws are 
 now red with the financial gore of the bull. You 
 sold a hundred shares short. Down it went a point, 
 and you sold two hundred shares more short. I made 
 a descending pyramid for you, and there is the result 
 minus commissions. It is a strictly business affair. Do 
 not thank me. If your hundred dollars had been 
 gobbled up by the bull that would have been the last 
 of you in the stock market ! " 
 
 " But I will, not for the money nor for your great 
 business head, but for your kind heart," she replies, 
 tears of gratitude in her fair eyes. 
 
 Looking at her beauty an idea comes into the head 
 of this benevolent financier, who is hated and cursed 
 on Wall street for the financial havoc he has caused, 
 but here appears the very embodiment of urbanity and 
 generosity. Papa Tiger doubtless seems benevolent 
 to his cubs and to his wife, when he brings home the 
 body of a tender Brahmin baby for the family dinner. 
 To the despoiled village he appears a different kind of 
 a brute. 
 
 Looking at her, something new comes into Mr. 
 Steinbergh's eyes. He says, suggestively: "You are, 
 I understand, obtaining a divorce from your husband." 
 
 " It is already obtained, "she answers. "The decree 
 was granted to-day. I am free of Claude forever. " 
 
 "That is very wise, I think," replies the financier. 
 " Do you spend the summer in Saratoga ? " 
 
 " Yes, with Flora. We have become chums. Cut 
 off from che love of man, I turn to the friendship of 
 woman."
 
 HER SENATOR. 97 
 
 "Not from the love of all men?" queries the 
 Croesus, playfully. " Not so long as men admire 
 beauty and a good heart. " 
 
 "You ascribe those attributes to me ? " she mutters, 
 opening her eyes. 
 
 "Why, you look surprised," he laughs. " Is it won- 
 derful that you should have beauty, or a good heart ? " 
 
 "Very! "she replies bitterly, " especially the last. 
 My childhood was one of cruelty, my youth you have 
 seen it you know what it is go away, please, good, 
 dear Mr. Steinbergh, I am not at my best now." And 
 she sends the financier from her; for, with a woman's 
 tact, she has noticed a new something in his eyes. 
 
 After he has gone, she mutters to herself: " No, no! 
 Not from gratitude ; from that least of all ! I at least 
 will have at my next wedding if it ever comes another 
 honeymoon. Oh, the joy of that time! A fool's para- 
 dise, but it was lovely to walk within it!" 
 
 Then she thinks: "But I did right; I have cut Claude 
 forever out of my life, I have burned my bridges, I 
 have done a wise thing." 
 
 Has she ? 
 
 Mr. Claude Auchester Montressor may be divorced, 
 but he is not thrown off. He has a clinging nature, and 
 begins to love the one he has lost, once more. He goes 
 about among Evelyn's friends as a wronged man ; he 
 poses as a broken-hearted, cast-off husband. To such 
 an extent does he carry his melancholy that he even 
 gains the sympathy of Von Spitzer, who breaks out at 
 Evelyn one evening as he brings her back from a 
 visit to Flora Atherton. 
 
 " For God's sake, why don't you have some mercy 
 for that poor devil, who is breaking his heart for 
 you? " 
 
 "Who do you mean ? " asks Evie, opening her eyes 
 quite widely.
 
 98 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "Why, Claude, of course. Why don't you let him 
 visit you once in a while ? " 
 
 "He does! " says Evelyn, curtly. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Every day ! He comes at two o'clock, he says for 
 old time's sake. He looks so miserable I haven't the 
 heart to tell him to never show his face again. I know 
 I'm a fool for it, but I once loved him. I know I 
 should cut him off remorselessly, but I haven't done it. 
 Fool! Dolt! Idiot, that I am," she goes on in self- 
 reproach. 
 
 And Evie is right in regard to this ; for Claude, hav- 
 ing once got into the habit of dropping in upon his ex- 
 wife, hangs around his ex-fireside with a much greater 
 devotion than he ever did when it was his by right. 
 Some men always appreciate so much more what does 
 not belong to them than that which they have. 
 
 Were Evelyn to show signs of falling in love with 
 another man, or marrying again, Claude Montressor is 
 of that peculiar material that would make grand scenes, 
 and play lago parts with great expression, some sub- 
 tlety, and a prodigious, easy-going malice. He would 
 not put Othello up to murder, but he might incite 
 him to savage jealousy and relentless persecution. 
 
 As it now stands, Claude does the persecuting 
 himself. He drops in at Evie's on afternoons, when 
 she entertains a few of her chosen intimates with tea, 
 gossip, and other feminine comforts, and stands loung- 
 ing about, looking at the armchair he once occupied 
 as lord and master, and sighing so deeply that some 
 of Mrs. Montressor's old friends look reproachfully at 
 the ex-wife; for Claude has very handsome eyes, a 
 noble forehead, and a way of tossing his sunny curls 
 from off it as if he were a lion in distress a style of 
 playing that goes very well with the fair sex, as Mr. 
 Montressor knows.
 
 HER SENATOR. 99 
 
 "It has been the lesson of my life," he whispers, 
 confidentially, to Flora Atherton. "I admit I was 
 wild gay reckless; but I never thought she would 
 have done this to me. I couldn't have done it to 
 her." 
 
 "You love her still?" whispers Flora, sympatheti- 
 cally. 
 
 "With my heart, with my life, with my soul! How 
 I have worked for that woman ! Every dollar I have 
 earned in the world was hers to throw away. And 
 now now now! It's hard lines on a boy, isn't it? 
 Never treat Von Spitzer so after you have made him 
 happy." 
 
 This last with a little giggle that loses him the act- 
 ress's sympathy and makes her hate him, for she doesn't 
 love Von Spitzer, though she finds his company pleas- 
 ant and his praise very agreeable reading in the 
 morning papers. 
 
 So Claude gets in the habit of hanging around until 
 all the rest have left Mrs. Montressor's pleasant par- 
 lor. This one day produces an awful interview. 
 
 "Why don't you go with the rest? " remarks Evelyn, 
 inhospitably. 
 
 "I would like another cup of tea." 
 
 " With pleasure. Will you go then? " 
 
 " I can't when I think of old times." 
 
 'You'll have to. I have an engagement to dine 
 with Mr. Steinburgh." 
 
 "Ah h!" 
 
 "Why don't you take Miss Tollemache out to din- 
 ner? She's probably hungry by this time." 
 
 " That's all over." This in a sepulchral voice. 
 
 "Since when? " This is an incautious question, and 
 Evelyn knows it the moment it has slipped her pretty 
 lips. 
 
 The answer that comes back is an awful one, " Since
 
 100 HER SENVTOR. 
 
 you had me forbidden by the courts to marry again. 
 Ah, what a cruel wrong! You have had me forbidden 
 to marry! I, a man of domestic instincts! I have 
 now no hearth-stone to cling to I, who can never 
 marry ! " 
 
 "Go over to Jersey!" says Evie, sharply. "Across 
 the river you can snap your fingers at New York 
 courts." 
 
 The answer that comes shocks her. Claude says in 
 a broken voice: "I haven't the three cents for the 
 ferry ticket." 
 
 It had never occurred to her that he, cut off from her 
 financial assistance, should be absolutely penniless. 
 She had been accustomed to provide for him before ; 
 why should she not assist him now ? 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my dear Claude," she answers, 
 trying to turn the matter off lightly, though it affects 
 her more than she wants him to know. "But if you 
 will accept a loan, here are ten dollars," and with 
 dainty hand extends the bill lightly to him. 
 
 The answer that comes shocks her still more. 
 "Couldn't you make it fifty, Evie ?" he says. "You've 
 got lots of money I understand. Steinbergh has helped 
 you out in stocks. Couldn't you make it fifty ? " 
 
 "Yes, take it ! " she ejaculates suddenly, as if anx- 
 ious to get him out of her sight. And he goes away 
 leaving her almost despising herself and him also. She 
 murmurs: "Degrading myself by giving him money, 
 and he mean enough to take it ! " 
 
 After this she denies herself to Mr. Montressor when 
 he would call upon her. She has plenty of excuse for 
 this as she is very busy now. 
 
 It is nearly the end of June ; everybody is flying away 
 from New York heat to green mountains and cool sea 
 breezes. Rooms have been engaged for her and Miss 
 Atherton in Saratoga, at the Windsor.
 
 HER SENATOR. 101 
 
 So, a little before ten one morning, in the heat of 
 that hottest of stations, the New York Central Depot, 
 beneath its burning-glass dome, Evelyn Montressor and 
 Flora Atherton stand, ready to take the Saratoga ex- 
 press. 
 
 A little group has gathered to bid them good-by. 
 Von Spitzer, effusive, yet cynical ; Amadie, fresh from 
 his canvas, bearing in his hand two bouquets: "One 
 for each of the Group," he says. 
 
 "You'll give me a sitting or two, both of you, if I 
 come up to Saratoga, just to put in the finishing 
 touches, just a flash from your sapphire eyes, Madame 
 Montressor; just the ars from yours, Miss Ather- 
 ton." 
 
 "If you're good en tgh to run up, Amadie, you 
 can paint us as much a. you like," replies Flora. 
 
 And Evie adds: "A little breeze will do you good. 
 Even your own Naples is r ;ver hotter than this," as 
 she fans herself gracefully and languidly, making an 
 exquisite picture in her light summer traveling dress, 
 which is breezy and cool-looking from fluffy parasol to 
 dainty bottines. "You'll be coming up, too, I pre- 
 sume," she says, turning to Mr. Steinbergh, who makes 
 a picture of amiable philanthropy, being laden down by 
 books to read, fruit to eat, flowers to smell, and every- 
 thing else he can think of to make the railroad journey 
 of the two young ladies a pleasant one. 
 
 "Yes, later on, if I can get away from business." 
 
 "To which, foolish man, you make yourself the 
 slave/' answers Mrs. Montressor, lightly. " If I were 
 in your position somebody else should do the work." 
 
 "Ah, then somebody else would take the mney," 
 laughs Crcesus. " There are certain things that only 
 I can arrange. If I go for a month to Europe, those 
 awful boys on the Stock Exchange play while the 
 cat's away. But when I come back, ah ! the cat but
 
 102 HER SENATOR. 
 
 I will carry these to your chairs and arrange every* 
 thing for you. Be sure and don't miss the train. You 
 have only ten minutes." 
 
 Evie is rather glad it is only ten minutes, for she 
 sees Claude standing near apparently waiting for his 
 turn to say farewell, which he does in gloomy melo- 
 dramatic style with a grand anti-climax at the end. 
 
 "You don't ask me to visit you at Saratoga as you 
 did your financier," he whispers pathetically; then 
 breaks out: "But I'm coming up, just the same. 
 And have a care, my lady ! Though the courts have 
 made you free from me, I haven't yet given you free- 
 dom from my heart. If I find you flirting as I am 
 sure of," he says ruefully, "look out for me ! " This 
 last with a wild roll of the eyes and nasty snarl. 
 
 But she answers him : " You will find me flirting, so 
 you can come prepared to make yourself as disagreeable 
 as possible. It's a habit you've got into lately. 
 Between ourselves, I don't think divorce has improved 
 you." 
 
 "Undo it." 
 
 " Never ! But let us part friends." 
 
 " Certainly, friends ! Couldn't you," he stammers, 
 "couldn't you help me with another fifty? It's the 
 summer season; Steinbergh will buy no more of my 
 pictures. I've painted three upside down for him 
 already, but he doesn't seem to want them." 
 
 "Why don't you go to work ? " 
 
 "Work! How? Act in summer? There are no 
 companies. Would you condemn me to the horror of 
 continuous performances ? Would you like to see my 
 name announced as a roof garden fiend ? " 
 
 He utters this so dolefully that Evelyn bursts out 
 laughing as she passes the ticket taker and is delighted 
 to see that he refuses to let Claude pass after her. 
 
 A minute later she finds herself with Miss Atherton
 
 HER SENATOR. IOJ 
 
 in the parlor car. Mr. Steinbergh has arranged their 
 belongings. He is talking to a gentleman whom Evie 
 has not seen before. 
 
 He turns to her and says: "You have never met 
 this gentleman, have you, Mrs. Montressor ? " laugh- 
 ingly. 
 
 "No, I don't re remember," stammers Evie, for 
 the introduction is a strange one. 
 
 " But he has seen you," chuckles the financier. " I 
 suppose he looks at you every day. Sometimes I pre- 
 sume he thinks he owns you. He is the gentleman 
 who has purchased your portrait, the one Amadie 
 painted. Mrs. Evelyn Montressor, permit me to 
 introduce a gentleman who is already interested in 
 you the Honorable Mr. Guernsey of Populoso ! " 
 
 And Evelyn is staring straight in the face for the 
 first time of " HER SENATOR."
 
 104 HER SENATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE SARATOGA EXPRESS. 
 
 The gentleman she is gazing at says " I am pleased 
 to meet you but how warm you look !" A bright flush 
 is on Evie's fair face, for it has been a surprise, almost 
 a shock to her to suddenly encounter this man who has 
 been the object of her serious thoughts for months 
 the man she has sworn to herself to make her football 
 in the game of fortune even to his own undoing. 
 
 But as she looks at him a sudden thought flies into 
 her mind: "CAN I ?" 
 
 For James Bertram Guernsey has a face that for one 
 moment makes her think that if there is any football 
 kicking to do he will be the one to do it. And she 
 cogitates rather ruefully : ' ' If he kicks, he'll kick hard. " 
 
 Then, though she is talking to him all the time and 
 telling him she is delighted to encounter a man on a 
 summer train overloaded with women, she is studying 
 his face. 
 
 She sees a massive forehead ; eyes that are bright 
 and flashing but cautious, an under jaw of bulldog firm- 
 ness; and fears she can never do it. 
 
 Next she looks at his lips and has hope! A heavy 
 mustache just tinged with gray conceals the upper 
 one, but the lower tells the tale and she thinks 
 she can! For though Doc. Guernsey's face exhibits 
 firmness it also suggests a simplicity of nature extraor- 
 dinary in one who has made his mark in his own local- 
 ity and has now the chance of making a name in the 
 nation itself. But it is not this that gives her hope ; it 
 is the under lip, the bowed yet full under lip, the one
 
 HER SENATOR. IO5 
 
 that shows passion yet- sensitiveness. It is this lip that 
 tells her that the Westerner at Koster & Bial's spoke 
 the truth when he remarked that Doc. Guernsey was 
 unplowed ground, and would love like a prairie afire. 
 
 Even as she thinks this, Mr. Steinbergh is taking his 
 leave and Mr. Guernsey has been introduced to Miss 
 Atherton. 
 
 A moment after the train is in motion and with whis- 
 tle shrieking and bell clanging, runs out of the Grand 
 Central depot into the tunnel towards Harlem. In 
 this uncertain light Evie can no longer study the face of 
 the gentleman who sits just opposite her on the other 
 side of the car. 
 
 But if his face is invisible, his voice is open for ex- 
 amination. She listens to his conversation, segregat- 
 ing tone from everything else, and finds that Mr. 
 Guernsey has the voice of a pioneer. His voice is open 
 and frank and generally his speech is low, but there is 
 a ring in it that makes her know that if he opened his 
 mouth he could raise a camp meeting. 
 
 "You young ladies are going to Saratoga? So am 
 I. Of course, Mrs. Montressor, I know that you are 
 married, still you'll excuse me calling you young. Out 
 our way the girls never object to it. On the prairies 
 we say, ' Plain truth and no offense, never makes a 
 man draw his gun.' " 
 
 "Neither do the girls out our way object to it," 
 laughs Evelyn. "You could even call a Fifth avenue 
 damsel youthful and escape with your life, though she 
 might be dangerous to you in another way." 
 
 Her laugh is echoed by a musical guffaw from the 
 gentleman opposite. Then suddenly Guernsey re- 
 marks: "Great Scott! There's a baby being 
 spanked." 
 
 "No, it was only me laughing" giggles Flora. 
 
 " Laughing ? " mutters the astonished Senator, then
 
 106 HER SENATOR. 
 
 he adds contemplatively: "Would you mind letting 
 me hear you cry, young lady? I think it would be 
 more exhilarating." 
 
 At which Mrs. Montressor interjects: "Haven't you 
 seen Miss Atherton on the stage ? " 
 
 " No; is she an actress ? " 
 
 "Yes, our most celebrated of ingtnucs. When she 
 cries the house laughs, and when she laughs the house 
 cries." 
 
 At which Miss Atherton gives another titter that 
 makes Mr. Guernsey ejaculate in playful voice: 
 " Please don't. I am a humane man and I hate to lis- 
 ten to suffering." 
 
 And they all go into another burst of merriment that 
 takes them out of the tunnel and lasts them across the 
 Harlem river where a slight breeze gives them a little 
 relief from the intolerable heat of New York in 
 summer. 
 
 A few minutes after they are running up the banks 
 of the Hudson, cooler than ever, happier than ever, 
 and having a jolly time, Flora telling the Honorable 
 Mr. Guernsey that she will cry for him some day, just 
 to make him enjoy himself. On this Doc. Guernsey 
 looking at her thinks her pale beauty very engaging, 
 and gazing at her fair lips does not guess that he has 
 given them the first kiss they have received on earth 
 but that was a long time ago. 
 
 Then turning his eyes upon the other one, the sun- 
 light coming in upon her fair hair and gilding her 
 exquisite face and graceful figure, Evie seems to his 
 Western soul idealized beauty. He mutters to himself 
 with characteristic pioneer frankness: "Her picture 
 was a wonder; but here nature lays out art." 
 
 It is with this in his mind that he startles Evelyn 
 with these words: "You'll excuse my si^^g you up, 
 Mrs. Montressor."
 
 HER SENATOR. 107 
 
 "I? Why, certainly 1 " And blushes rose- 
 like blushes add to her loveliness. 
 
 "Oh, you needn't be bashful. I have studied you 
 before. You'll pardon my saying that I thought the 
 Italian Amadie was a good artist, and now I know he's 
 a bad one." 
 
 " Why, the painting is said to be superb ! " 
 
 "Yes, but you'll pardon Western frankness it 
 doesn't touch you. But don't get mad, sissy; you're 
 not offended ? " 
 
 To this she mutters, '"No! "with drooping head, 
 for as she has looked at his face, which is honest and 
 open, she has become ashamed of the plot in her mind 
 against this gentleman, and would forgive him even 
 now were it not that she remembers his father. 
 
 Each time that Sallie laughs it recalls the Shepherd's 
 Fold and Guernsey's father, and Evie's heart hardens 
 to the statesman, though her manner is suavity itself; 
 and she is as kind to him as Eve was when she offered 
 to Adam the apple that she knew would be his ruin and 
 damnation. 
 
 And, like Adam, Guernsey promptly accepts the 
 apple. Every smile she gives him, every light laugh of 
 hers, seems to please him more and more. He has a 
 pretty good opinion of himself already most United 
 States Senators have but before they have passed 
 Peekskill Doc. Guernsey thinks he is a born fascinater 
 of women. He cannot help it. She makes him think 
 so. It is not his vanity that causes this; it is the brill- 
 iant art of a subtle woman, who charms men by making 
 them think they know so much more than she does. 
 She lingers on his words as he tells of the financial 
 situation; she admits that the white metal is the 
 proper medium of exchange, for he is a silver man. 
 When he speaks of Wall street and grinds his teeth, 
 her cherry lips murmur* .," Villains ! Gold bugs and
 
 jo8 HER SENATOR. 
 
 blood-suckers!" forgetting poor absent Steinbergh. 
 Then Eve plays a master stroke. She asks Guernsey 
 
 WHAT HIS CHANCES ARE FOR THE PRESIDENCY. 
 
 "My name has not yet been mentioned," mutters 
 the delighted politician. Then he says, impressively, 
 "I am still the dark horse," and visions of the White 
 House fill his senatorial soul. 
 
 In fact, she turns Doc. Guernsey's somewhat hard 
 head with the softest, subtlest feminine flattery that 
 can be given, that of recognition of his gigantic intel- 
 lect, that of making him think what he doesn't know, 
 nobody knows, that he holds Populoso in the hollow of 
 his hand, and has a political mortgage on the destinies 
 of the whole of the United States. 
 
 If she had pretended to love him that would not have 
 inflamed his heart. Other girls had done that before. 
 But Evelyn Montressor has a very bright mind, and it 
 is well stocked with general knowledge. She is indebted 
 also to Mr. Steinbergh's desultory remarks for some 
 cursory political and financial ideas. These she turns 
 to marvelous use, making the United States Senator- 
 elect think that she knows a great deal, but flattering 
 him most craftily by causing him to imagine that she 
 thinks he knows very much more. 
 
 It is the way to the hearts of a certain class of men, 
 and no quicker path can be taken by woman. They 
 might turn from a woman's beauty, they might be bored 
 by her love, but they will be fascinated by her defer- 
 ence. It is the masculine love of dominion over 
 women that has displayed itself in one way or another 
 in all lands, in all ages; in the harems of Turkey, in the 
 seraglios of the Persian, in the domination of the Ger- 
 man husband, in the stern rule of the Russian lord 
 and master, in the burying of African women when 
 their husbands die, in the burning of Hindu widows en 
 their husband's f unef al pyres a passion that is
 
 HER SENATOR. lOp 
 
 teJ hi the heart of man and one that the new 
 woman herself will never be able to overcome. She 
 may make the new man acknowledge her equality, she 
 may, in fact, demonstrate her superiority, but as long 
 as she does not bow down to him either in fact or in 
 pretense, he will never live her never NEVER! Man 
 loves what clings to him, man loves what he supports, 
 man loves what he protects! 
 
 But Doc. Guernsey does not inalyze his feelings. 
 
 They are too pleasant to bt dissected. Who ever 
 separates the various flavors in strawberries and cream, 
 or segregates the sour from the sweet in lemonade, 
 or the numerous perfumes in an exquisite bouquet? 
 
 All Guernsey knows is that somehow the lunch 
 he eats in the dining-car, though a poo* one, as is 
 quite usual on the New York Central, is tne /leasant- 
 est which he has ever eaten. There is music ;n the 
 air, as he expresses it, sweeter than any brass 
 band. For Doc. Guernsey is not yet become a haoituc" 
 of the opera, and denotes all bodies of musicians pro- 
 ducing melody and harmony as "brass bands." He 
 has forgotten his Yale training; he has lived in the 
 West and has become of it. He has assented to its here- 
 sies, financial and otherwise ; he has accepted its gen- 
 erosity, its grandeur, its know-everything-ness, all in 
 a lump. 
 
 Lunch being over, Evelyn devotes herself tc 
 amusing him and entertaining herself, for she has 
 grown interested in this gentleman, whom she is flat- 
 tering. She has bowed down to him until she has 
 commenced to believe that a little of what she has 
 hinted is true, that he does know a great deal; for 
 Guernsey talks well from his standpoint, and is already 
 up in half a dozen speeches that he expects to deliver 
 in the United States Senate; a few short excerpts 
 from which he occasionally gives her, in the course of
 
 tlO HER SENATOR. 
 
 his conversation, in well-rounded periods and good 
 solid Saxon English. 
 
 So the two get to flattering each other, a very pleas- 
 ant occupation and one that most men and women like. 
 They commence to think well of each other; the time 
 runs into the afternoon very quickly. They are near- 
 ing Saratoga. 
 
 Then comes the most subtle flattery a man can give 
 to a woman who has "Mrs." as a prefix to her name. 
 Guernsey begins to hint as to Evie's present static 
 domesticity. He does this very delicately, for he has 
 the heart of a gentleman which always carries with it 
 the instincts of one. 
 
 " It seems rather curious to call you Mrs. Montres- 
 sor, do you know? " he remarks contemplatively. 
 
 "Why not? It is my name." 
 
 "Yes, but you seem so young to be married. Your 
 your husband " he hesitates a little over the last 
 word "is coming I suppose often to Saratoga?" 
 
 " My husband is a thing of the past." 
 
 "You are a widow?" he gasps impulsively trium- 
 phantly. 
 
 At the word a wild flush of joy flies over the 
 face of Evelyn. She knows she has him on the 
 hip; she knows if she plays her cards without serious 
 mistake Doc. Guernsey's heart will yet palpitate in her 
 fair hand. 
 
 "Yes," she mutters, drooping her head, for a little 
 of the widow's art has come to her with divorce. She 
 hardly looks at him, but is conscious there is a new 
 light in her cavalier's eyes and a flush of emotion 
 apparently joyous, on the Western Senator's cheeks, as 
 he mutters: "A widow well! well!" 
 
 Then she turns the conversation, thinking it is perhaps 
 as well that he does not question her too closely in re- 
 gard to the death of her ex-spouse, who is at present
 
 HER SENATOR. Ill 
 
 attempting to make life easy at Coney Island with the 
 fifty dollars donation she had given him at the New 
 York Central Depot. 
 
 "You have never been to Saratoga?" asks Evelyn. 
 
 "Once, when I was a boy, but I imagine the place 
 is changed. Besides, things look differently to the eyes 
 of youth," he says with a sigh, for at this moment Doc. 
 Guernsey would almost give up his United States Sen- 
 atorship to be a few years younger. 
 
 The answer of the widow makes him happy. 
 " Pshaw! " she says lightly. "You have not lost the 
 eyes of boyhood. No man has who pretends to be old. 
 I suppose, though, an assumption of age is necessary for 
 your dignity as a United States Senator; " then mur- 
 murs contemplatively: "The youngest member of the 
 body." 
 
 "Yes, I'm years ahead of my time in politics," 
 answers the gentleman in confident rapture. " Though 
 I'm a Senator I haven't forgot, thank God, how to be 
 a boy ! But where are you going to stay at the Springs ?" 
 His tone is eager. 
 
 Here the widow suddenly becomes very bashful. 
 "For a few days," she says, hesitatingly, "Miss 
 Atherton and I remain at the Windsor. Afterwards, if 
 we can obtain one, we propose taking a little cottage. 
 You see, having no gentleman with us, we think it 
 would be in better taste not to spend the season at one 
 of the great hotels." 
 
 " Yes, much better," he answers. " Two such chil- 
 dren as you should not be left to run about alone," 
 then adds, a tone of eagerness in his suggestion: "If 
 you want any masculine advice or assistance, you'll not 
 forget that I am at the Windsor also. " 
 
 Evelyn looks at him rather archly at this, and Sallie, 
 who has been apparently engrossed in a novel, sud- 
 denly ejaculates: "Why, only five minutes ago yp|*
 
 11* HER SENATOR. 
 
 had your baggage checked to the Grand Union ! How 
 quick you men change your minds!" A remark that 
 brings a slight flush of embarrassment upon the Sena- 
 tor's cheeks. 
 
 " I always change my mind," returns Guernsey, de- 
 terminedly, "when I find I have made a mistake. I 
 glanced through the guide-book only ten seconds ago 
 and discovered that the Windsor was on a hill. Being 
 a mountain man, I like elevated positions. " 
 
 Then Evelyn plays another subtle stroke. She 
 replies frankly : "lam glad you do. Will you not, 
 since you are to stay at the same hotel, lend dignity to 
 our table by taking the head of it ?" 
 
 "Won't I," says the Senator, eagerly. "Don't 
 either of you girls trouble yourselves. I will make all 
 the arrangements. I am here alone, you know. The 
 rest of my family are in Europe." 
 
 "Family?" falters Mrs. Montressor. 
 
 "Yes, my sister. She sailed two weeks ago. My 
 father " his tone is reverent and loving, "died last 
 year. Don't trouble yourselves, I am bossing this job, 
 as they say out West." 
 
 And he springs up and gives directions with regard 
 vo their hand satchels and makes arrangements for a 
 carriage, for the train is already in the Saratoga 
 depot. 
 
 Looking at him as he does so, with the energy of 
 youth in his limbs and the flush of delight upon his face, 
 Evelyn Montressor almost repents but not quite! 
 
 She sees the band of mourning upon his hat. " It is 
 for his father," she mutters to herself, and steels her 
 heart against the gentleman who all this afternoon has 
 been trying to make her journey a pleasant one. 
 
 But her voice has none of the bitterness of her heart 
 as she replies to Guernsey's cheery "Trot along, girls!" 
 and her eyes gaze innocently into his as he assists her
 
 HER SENATOR. 11$ 
 
 from the Pullman car, across the platform and into the 
 carriage that he has engaged. 
 
 Two minutes after they turn into the main street of 
 the watering-place, and Sallie, who has never seen 
 Saratoga before, shrieks: " Oh, my! a town on a pic- 
 nic." 
 
 And she is right. It fs a town on a picnic at least 
 it looks so. The long perspective of green trees run- 
 ning up and down the broad avenue that is lined by 
 gigantic hotels, upon the piazzas of which the orches- 
 tras are playing merrily, the dashing equipages filled 
 with ladies in the light toilets of summer with wav- 
 ing parasols and whips bedecked with ribbons thft 
 hub-bub of Broadway transported to green trees 
 and made light, brilliant and almost tropical by soft 
 sunshine and diversified by nearly every type of hu- 
 manity in the United States. Planters from the 
 South, cattle men from the West, Yankee manufac- 
 turers from New England, business men from New 
 York, bookmakers from the race track, invalids for 
 the waters, mingled with beautiful women from every- 
 where, are punctuated by the woolly heads of hundreds 
 of negroes, the waiters of the great hotels. 
 
 From this melange comes up the buzz of happj 
 laughter and eager speech, over all this floats the 
 atmosphere of sport. That's what takes the populace 
 to Saratoga SPORT ! The town is always on a picnic. 
 
 Dashing up this street, rounding Congress Park with 
 its pagodas, passing the Pompeian House, they turn 
 the corner and draw up in front of the Windsor. 
 
 Half a dozen bell boys, each one bearing the tra 
 ditional dust brush in his jacket pocket, fly down to 
 meet them. In a flash their hand baggage is at the 
 office ; two minutes later the ladies have said adieu to Mr. 
 Guernsey and are whisked up in the elevator to their 
 rooms to remove the dust of travel and enjoy a siesta.
 
 114 HR SENATOR. 
 
 At the dinner hour they come down, looking fresher 
 and lovelier than ever, and in the dining room find Mr. 
 Guernsey is a man of his word. 
 
 A pretty little table with seats ior three has been 
 arranged for them, and they enjoy the excellent 
 cuisine of the hotel, mingled with strains from an 
 orchestra in the adjoining room, and altogether make 
 a pleasant dinner of it. 
 
 Afterwards on the veranda the ladies chat while their 
 escort enjoys his cigar. Their conversation is light, 
 flippant, even merry, the Senator telling them some of 
 his famous western stories a few of them anecdotes of 
 his younger days when buffalo were plenty and Indians 
 still on the warpath. In one of them he chances to 
 mention his father as a man of noble heart, and then 
 could he notice the fair widow's eyes, they would be 
 a warning; but he chats unconsciously on. 
 
 The evening is ideal ; they are all apparently very 
 happy, though Mrs. Montressor's speech and manner 
 are more guarded, perhaps more formal than on the 
 train in the afternoon. She keeps her gentleman very 
 deftly at a distance, though in bidding him good evening 
 her eyes droop before the frank expression of his face. 
 His good-natured bonhomie and kindly speech affect 
 her more than she likes; for on getting to her own 
 room for the night she has a fearful scene with her- 
 self. Conscience smites her very hard. 
 
 "It is an ignoble plot," she mutters. "I would 
 spare him if he wouldn't tell me his father was a good 
 man! After this I must tutor my face when he men- 
 tions that accursed villain! " 
 
 As for Guernsey, the effect upon him of the day has 
 been very different. He smokes three cigars contem- 
 platively on the veranda after the ladies have left him, 
 then mutters slowly to himself: " By the Rocky Moun- 
 tains, she's beautiful as Eve in Paradise! Her face
 
 HER SENATOR. 11$ 
 
 is like a rosebud, her figure like a Gee Whizz!" 
 For Guernsey has a mental souvenir in his eye of an 
 
 exquisite ankle as he has assisted the fair widow from 
 
 the train, and he hasn't forgotten it. 
 Ah! Naughty Evelyn I
 
 Cl6 HER SENATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 "HIS GAL!" 
 
 THE next morning the world looks very bright to the 
 Honorable James B. Guernsey as he enters the dining- 
 room to find his breakfast table made very charming by 
 the two graceful young ladies he has escorted from New 
 York, both pictures of summer simplicity, in white 
 dresses and broad sashes, who greet him with unaf- 
 fected yet kindly good mornings. 
 
 But his eye rests not so long upon the drooping love- 
 liness of the actress as upon the vision in pure white ; 
 for Evie this day depends for her color effects on her 
 blushing cheeks and blue eyes, which give to her vivac- 
 ity, playfulness and sometimes, perchance, haughty 
 dignity. 
 
 The conversation of the two young ladies is so 
 lively, that Mr. Guernsey forgets to read his paper 
 at the breakfast table, a thing he has not omitted 
 within his memory. News, politics, business, all go 
 out of his head as he listens to his fair companions of 
 the knife and fork. But he has not yet lost his appe- 
 tite that, perchance, will come later. 
 
 "Well, girls," he says heartily, "as we are out for 
 a frolic and came here to enjoy ourselves, let us throw 
 care to the peacocks outside," pointing to one of the 
 birds of paradise that is strutting over the lawn just 
 across the street, "and do the town! " 
 
 " I don't think even so rushing a gentleman as you 
 can do Saratoga in one day! " laughs Evie. 
 
 " Perhaps not," remarks the Senator, " though Sara- 
 toga did one of my friends in one night. Will Fisher, 
 the Denver cattle man, fought it out with the tiger, and
 
 - HER SENATOR. 117 
 
 returned to Colorado to spend the balance of the summer 
 there. His description of his night at the club here is 
 something terrific, though he only tells the story when 
 he gets drunk." 
 
 "Very well, let us do it in sections," remarks Flora. 
 The other two agreeing to this proposition, as soon 
 as Guernsey has finished his after-breakfast cigar, they 
 stroll over to that peculiar exhibition entitled the Villa 
 of Pansa, a reproduction of one of the Roman houses 
 dug up from the ruins of Pompeii and restored after its 
 burial of eighteen centuries. Filled with ancient stat- 
 uary and the buried treasures of lost arts, the place 
 looks as real as it did in the time of Titus. And stand- 
 ing by the little fountain in the atrium, Evelyn, in her 
 white, almost classic, robe, looks to the Senator as if 
 she were a Roman goddess; and when a Western man's 
 mind gets to weaving the imagery of the ancients and 
 reveling in poetic phantasies, he is in a very dangerous 
 condition. 
 
 "Flora, if you only had bare feet adorned by san- 
 dals, you would look like Nydia, Bulwer's heroine, the 
 blind girl of Pompeii," remarks Mrs. Montressor, 
 meditatively. 
 
 "What, are my eyes so dull ? " ejaculates Flora, and 
 her voice has such a plaint in it that Mr. Guernsey 
 bursts into laughter. 
 
 "I told you if I cried you'd laugh," murmurs the 
 comedienne, and she gives them a moue that sets 
 Evie giggling also. 
 
 Then Mr. Guernsey remarks: "After all, a log cabin 
 would be more pleasant to live in than this white 
 marble gilded sepulchre. Did you ever see a more un- 
 comfortable habitation ? " 
 
 "Yes, ONE! "replies Mrs. Montressor slowly; and 
 getting to thinking of the home his father and Mawley 
 had given to her, despite herself, sb^ favors the affable
 
 Ii8 HER SENATOR. 
 
 Western gentleman with several glances that startle 
 him. 
 
 " Great Scott! What have I done to offend you ? " he 
 falters. 
 
 "You you laughed at Flora !" she stammers, and 
 bestows on him another savage glare. 
 
 " So did you! " he mutters astounded. 
 
 "Yes, I permit myself liberties with my friend," she 
 replies, putting her arm around the girl's waist, "that 
 I don't allow to others." 
 
 " I see you do," remarks Guernsey; " very pleasant 
 ones." 
 
 At this they all burst out laughing. 
 
 A moment after their escort, looking at his watch, 
 ejaculates, " How time flies! " 
 
 And it has with him, for it is already the lunch 
 hour. 
 
 So they walk back to the hotel, and three hours 
 afterwards drive out along the beautiful road to the 
 lake where they take their dinner in the early evening 
 at Moon's, and come back by electric light. 
 
 Altogether they have had a very pleasant day of it, 
 at least the Honorable Doc. Guernsey thinks so, 
 though Evelyn has been to him a little more distant 
 than she was during the railway journey, only once or 
 twice very craftily making his heart leap by a veiled 
 glance or two. 
 
 " Isn't he splendid?" whispers Flora to Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor as they part at the door of her room. "I I 
 love him already." 
 
 " Do you ? " remarks Mrs. Montressor coldly. 
 
 "Yes," replies the comedienne impulsively. "He 
 has such a fatherly way with him." 
 
 " Has he ?" murmurs Evie, and goes suddenly into 
 her room. There she mutters to herself: " Has he a 
 fatherly way ? Not with me ! To me has come the
 
 HER SENATOR. 119 
 
 widow's instinct. I know I have given him a throb or 
 two; " then sighs: "and I am ashamed of myself for 
 it." 
 
 But in the next week Mr. Guernsey gets no evidence 
 of this; though Evelyn's manner is cordial, it is no 
 more, save for an occasional glance that lifts him, as 
 he expresses it to himself in Western fashion, "out of 
 his boots. " She accepts his escort to morning concerts 
 at the United States and evening hops at the Grand 
 Union with a frankness and ease that indicates, per- 
 haps indifference, certainly not empressement ; still 
 in that melange called " society " by the loiterers of the 
 Saratoga hotels she accepts no escort but the Hon. 
 James B. Guernsey, United States Senator elect. 
 
 As for Miss Atherton, she has already forgotten the 
 fascinations of the art critic Van Spitzer in the attrac- 
 tions and attentions of two or three of the beaux of 
 Saratoga society ; among them, young Mr. Slammer, of 
 the Racing Association, who has a penchant for the 
 ladies of the stage, and Harry Cordage, of Wall street, 
 who thinks her teary eyes "good things to go long 
 of," as he expresses it. 
 
 So the days run along brightly, even pleasantly, until 
 one day Evie gets a shock. This comes, as thunder 
 and lightning are apt to do, from a clear sky. 
 
 She has been taking a little morning walk alone and 
 unattended, and has strolled from the Windsor down 
 the hill into Congress Park. Here she is sitting 
 carelessly on a bench listening to a morning concert 
 by the band. There is the usual procession, peculiar 
 to mornings in Congress Park, moving along the asphalt 
 past her; bright servant girls are pursuing runaway 
 children; nurses are toting babies in their arms; a few 
 ladies and gentlemen are strolling about, and two men 
 are seated on a bench at an angle to herself talking 
 carelessly together.
 
 120 HER SENATOR. 
 
 The band is playing loudly ; she does not hear their 
 conversation. 
 
 Suddenly the music ceases, and words smite her ears 
 with vivid startle and effect. 
 
 "You've just come from Silveropolis, haven't you ?" 
 queries one. 
 
 "Yes, arrived at the Springs this morning. I came 
 up to see Guernsey. I want a promise of an appropri- 
 ation for the navigation of Battle Creek. It runs 
 through my ranch, and I think if the government would 
 build a few irrigating dams up at the head waters of 
 it, it would improve my property. He's here, ain't he ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes; the old man's up here as big as life, and 
 would you swallow it " here the speaker chuckles to 
 himself " he's going it like sin, and has got a. gal.'" 
 
 "War-whoops! Got a gal ? The old straightlace, 
 you don't mean it! " 
 
 "Yes, siree; he's got his brand on one, ' G. G.,' 
 Guernsey's Gal ! And if she ain't a screamer, Indians 
 ain't horse thieves! " 
 
 "He's got a girl!" falters Evie with a sudden 
 start; and rising hastily walks past these gentlemen, 
 who are strangers to her, giving them a rather haughty 
 glance, as if to rebuke their careless tongues ; at which 
 the one who has made the remark gets very red in the 
 face. 
 
 As she wanders out of the park her heart grows 
 bitter and she mutters : "Got a gal/ The frank- 
 faced hypocrite ! " 
 
 For a moment she is half stunned, then suddenly into 
 her mind comes a curious emotion, half curiosity, per- 
 chance half anger, with a tinge though she will not 
 admit it of what every woman has, jealousy. Not 
 that she loves Doc. Guernsey, oh, no ! But still she 
 has at least thought herself first in his attentions at 
 this watering-place.
 
 HER SENATOR. 12 X 
 
 " Who is she ? " she thinks. "Who is she ? " Then 
 laughs, a nasty sneer in her tone : "He's got his 
 brand on her; I should know her." And clenching 
 her little hand she mutters: "What a hypocrite he is, 
 Mr. Sly-boots Guernsey ! " 
 
 And Evelyn's manner when she meets the senator 
 from the West is very cool and haughty ; but though 
 she throws out very deft and guarded hints to Flora 
 and one or two other ladies whose acquaintance she has 
 made, she gets no satisfaction on this point. She is, 
 of course, compelled to approach the subject with the 
 most round-about diplomacy, and either no one under- 
 stands her, or no one will rise to her gossipy innuen- 
 deos and suggestions. 
 
 But this hurries a certain arrangement that she has 
 already in her mind, for the very day after this Mrs. 
 Montressor informs Mr. Guernsey that she and Miss 
 Atherton purpose taking a little cottage in pretty Cir- 
 cular street that skirts the upper edge of Congress 
 Park. 
 
 "We think of setting up Spinster's Hall," says Evie. 
 "At least, Flora does. I presume /should call it the 
 Widow's Retreat," she adds, mayhap a little coyly. 
 
 "By George! if you don't look out the boys will 
 come round and make it Matrimonial Villa," suggests 
 the Senator jovially. Then he says, a little hesitation 
 in his voice: " I suppose I I can come round ? " 
 
 "Yes, as one of the boys!" cries Flora Atherton, 
 impulsively, at which the Western magnate grows red 
 about the face, and Evie turns away biting her lip with 
 rage at herself, because she is blushing also. 
 
 But it is a most effective blush. It is a blush that 
 makes the Honorable Doc. Guernsey toss that night 
 uneasily on his pillow ; he who has defied the dart of 
 the Saratoga mosquito. 
 
 This arrangement would have doubtless been very
 
 122 HER SENATOR. 
 
 shortly made, were it not for an incident that takes 
 place the next day. They have an engagement to go 
 driving in the afternoon to the lake, and the Senator 
 has suggested a little dinner afterwards at Riley's at 
 Lake Lonely. 
 
 The party consists of Flora, young Slammer, Evie, 
 and the Senator, who is in a very contented, easy-going 
 state of mind, as Mrs. Montressor's austerity to him 
 has relaxed, for Evelyn finding no confirmation of the 
 on dit she has heard in regard to " Doc. Guernsey's 
 gal, "and never, in her various wanderings at the hotels 
 or parks or any place of resort in Saratoga, having en- 
 countered this young lady, has made up her mind that 
 the conversation she heard in Congress Park was merely 
 the idle babble of some Western man who wished to 
 impress the new comer from his section with his knowl- 
 edge of things scandalous in Saratoga. 
 
 She is, therefore, at her best, for her mind is bright 
 and her face smiling, as she holds out a little gloved 
 hand, and permits the gallant from Populoso to assist 
 her into the carriage, which he does with a hearty 
 good will, a strong hand, and a cheery "Step up 
 Sissy." 
 
 "Now we are fixed," he says, lightly; then cries: 
 "Hi, driver!" to the colored boy, who acts as Jehu, 
 "Trot 'em along!" 
 
 And away they go in the stream of carriages upon 
 that most popular of drives, the one that leads to the 
 lake. From this they make a detour, for they wish 
 the jaunt to be a long one, and going by Vichy Spring 
 pause to enjoy its mineral waters as they pour fresh 
 and foaming into their glasses. 
 
 An hour afterward they are at Riley's, famous among 
 all who have ever had the joy of partaking of its hos- 
 pitality, for its dinners though simple are unique and 
 wondrous in their freshness and in their flavor.
 
 HER SENATOR. 12J 
 
 It is one of these repasts that they sit waiting for, 
 enjoying the soft sunset that is coming down through 
 the trees, making deep shadows on the bosom of the 
 water below them, the leaves just trembling in a slight 
 summer zephyr, the sun just becoming bearable, for the 
 day has been a sultry one in Satatoga. 
 
 "It's as pretty a picture as the start for the Sub- 
 urban," remarks young Slammer, contemplatively. 
 
 *' Prettier, sir," replies the Senator, " than any race 
 course ! Out in my country we take off our hats to the 
 horse, who is our friend and companion, but we bow 
 down to the ladies, who are our angels and blessings." 
 
 As he speaks, he is looking at Evie, who is stand- 
 ing outlined by the sunset behind her, and calling 
 vivaciously, ** Catch the big ones! " to Mr. Riley, who 
 is pulling out of his own fish-pond four remarkably 
 fine bass, which in five minutes will be cooking in the 
 frying-pan, and one of them, in fifteen more, will be 
 being dissected by the pearly teeth of the lady, who 
 is encouraging his onslaught on the finny tribe. 
 
 "Gracious! Are they not beauties^" she says, 
 admiringly, as Riley returns, bearing his captives. 
 "That one is for me." 
 
 But if Evie is admiring the fish the Senator is 
 admiring her, with much better taste, though both are 
 the finest of their kind. 
 
 For the lady is as lovely as has been seen in Saratoga 
 since the days the Indians left it. In all its years, when 
 the belles of the South " before de wa' " came to drink 
 its sparkling waters and throng its ballrooms ; in its days 
 of glory, when its race-track was crowded by the East 
 and West and North and South, who came to lay their 
 money on their pet thoroughbreds, State against State ; 
 when Tom Bowling, of Kentucky raced against Harry 
 Bassett, of New Jersey; in the brilliant society of the 
 " United States," before Newport became first in social
 
 124 HER SENATOR. 
 
 prestige, never has any more beautiful woman stood by 
 the side of exquisite Lake Lonely and added to the 
 loveliness of the scene. 
 
 Yet simplicity is her great ornament, for Evie is in 
 pure, fairy white, save a few roses in her bosom, which 
 dash a little color on a picture that would be cold were it 
 not for the blush on her cheeks, the vivacity in her eyes, 
 and the cherry beauties of her lips, that, as Mr. Guern- 
 sey remarks, "are always expressing something." 
 
 Some women have lips that speak though their 
 tongues do not move. 
 
 From her fishing she comes running gracefully up to 
 the Solon and gives him a charming moue that makes his 
 heart beat, then pouts: "Mr. Riley says he isn't going 
 to give me the biggest bass. He insists my mouth isn't 
 large enough for it." 
 
 ''The heartless reprobate!" chuckles the Senator. 
 " If he gives me the biggest I shall consider Riley's 
 remarks personal." 
 
 "And resent them upon the fish," laughs Mr. Slam- 
 mer. 
 
 But Guernsey doesn't hear the turfman's wit for 
 Evelyn has suddenly cried: "Oh, gracious! I've lost 
 my bracelet, fishing!" 
 
 So the two stroll down to the pond to find it, leaving 
 Flora and her admirer behind them. The fish pool is 
 in a little hollow near the lake. To it Guernsey and 
 Evelyn descend by a short path. The sun is just going 
 down, the trees shade the place and in the uncertain 
 light the search for the missing trinket takes some 
 little time. 
 
 Perchance delay is not altogether unpleasant to the 
 statesman, whose eyes seem to seek his fair companion 
 more than they do for her bracelet; as she, in graceful 
 attitude, gropes eagerly for the ornament about the 
 edges of the pool.
 
 HER SENATOR. 125 
 
 At last he cries in triumph: "I've spotted it!" 
 and holds up the bauble, which is a plain gold affair 
 bearing one or two bangles upon it, very simple yet 
 very pretty. "As a reward I'll replace it!" 
 
 ''With pleasure," replies the lady most unaffectedly 
 and extends to him a white arm, dimpled wrist and 
 delicate patrician hand. 
 
 She has taken off her gloves to aid her search and 
 Doc. Guernsey's fingers seem to be paralyzed thumbs 
 as they encounter her satin skin. The catch is a sim" 
 pie one but he doesn't seem to be able to snap it on. 
 The thrill that runs up his fingers as he touches the 
 pretty wrist seems to make him awkward, and the 
 Western Senator bungles at this entrancing job as many 
 a man has done before and as many a man will do here- 
 after. 
 
 "You don't seem to understand the affair," remarks 
 Evie, laughing lightly. 
 
 In truth he does not, for his thoughts are not on the 
 bracelet, but upon the exquisite wrist and magnificent 
 arm he holds in his hands. 
 
 A minute after it is done ! 
 
 "Thank you," she replies, and turns toward the 
 house ; but he still keeps her hand as if loath to let it go. 
 
 Suddenly a start and thrill go through Evelyn, for 
 as her back is turned to him she thinks she feels her fair 
 wrist grazed by a mustache. She doesn't turn her 
 face to his; she doesn't wish him to see how red it is. 
 There is a swish of white skirts and a glimpse of daz- 
 zling ankles as she flies up the steep path and is gone. 
 
 And Guernsey, striding after her, remarks to him- 
 self in pathetic sotto voce : " She fled from the hand of 
 fellowship with the cry of a startled colt. " 
 
 On the veranda Evelyn turns to him again and 
 laughs: "You didn't beat me up the hill ? mountain 
 man as you arc."
 
 126 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "No," replies the Solon prophetically, "but I'll 
 catch you some day, sure!" 
 
 A minute after, dinner is announced, and the quar- 
 tette go in to a meat that they never forget ; for when 
 one has dined at Riley's, it is a thing that lingers in the 
 remembrance. Amid the gorgeousness of New York 
 dinner-parties, among the rich wines of club banquets, 
 surrounded by the glories at a lunch at the Waldorf, or 
 & petit souper at Delmonico's, memories of Riley's will 
 come back to one who has partaken at his simple board. 
 
 The table is decked with the whitest of tablecloths 
 and napkins, the china white also, but on it is a repast 
 that makes an epicure's palate throb and a gourmand's 
 teeth do deadly work. Saratoga Lake bass, just out 
 of the water, cooked to the quarter of a turn; fresh 
 corn plucked within the hour, succulent, juicy, and 
 soft enough to be babies' food, as Guernsey suggests; 
 chickens as tender as young partridges, and fritters 
 the recollection of which never leaves man nor woman 
 when they have eaten them once ! This is all ; but washed 
 down by cool and dry champagne in quantities to suit, 
 and backed up by coffee, and for the gentlemen cigars, 
 it makes both Mr. Slammer and the statesman from 
 the West feel in the Seventh Heaven, after they have 
 taken a pony of cognac of the right brand and the right 
 year. 
 
 How man's heart warms after dinner, and woman's 
 heart also. They all drive home very happy from 
 this dinner at Riley's, Mr. Slammer because Flora has 
 whispered to him quite blushingly that he can take 
 her every day to the races ; the Senator because he 
 still remembers with guilty throbs that his lips have 
 kissed the widow's fair and dazzling wrist. Perchance, 
 also, in the moonlight she permits him to hold 
 for one moment her patrician fingers cased within 
 her dainty gloves, very modestly, very tremblingly,
 
 HER SENATOR. 127 
 
 for the Senator's grip is of iron, and it is only by 
 Spartan resolution that Evie refrains from opening her 
 little mouth and uttering a plaintive squeal as he assists 
 her out of the carriage. 
 
 But the effect of this is equally great upon the 
 Solon, who, after they have arrived at the Windsor 
 and the ladies have retired from his gaze, walks down 
 to Congress Park and sinking upon a bench, mutters: 
 "By the Lord! I wish I could keep from thinking 
 poetry about her! Is it that or the mosquitoes that 
 keep me awake at nights ? Everything is going 
 so free and easy here that it would be a perfect 
 paradise if I could only sleep." 
 
 Then he retires to his senatorial couch, to awaken 
 the next morning to astonishment, dismay, and per- 
 turbation of spirit, and to discover that all is not going 
 free and easy at Saratoga. 
 
 The disaster c hat comes upon Mr. Guernsey in the 
 morning is brought about by a revelation that comes 
 to Evie this night in a few scraps of conversation which 
 float up to her from the veranda below. 
 
 Her room is on the second floor, with windows open- 
 ing on the gr:at portico that shades this side of the 
 hotel, the roof of which is so high that it incloses the 
 second and third stories, making them part of the bal- 
 cony itself. The night is quiet, for the devilish Italian 
 boy who sings "My Marguerite" incessantly at the 
 hotel opposite, to the vile 'ingling of Italian stringed 
 instruments, has eaten too much watermelon, and the 
 colic gives respite from his torment. 
 
 Two gentlemen are conversing on the portico imme- 
 diately below her window which, the night being warm, 
 is open to its full extent. One of them is Mr. Mart 
 Crossbrand, the Westerner, whose conversation had 
 interested Evelyn at Koster & Bial's. 
 
 As she lies languidly on a couch near the window
 
 I2S HER SENATOR. 
 
 seeking for air, for this has been one of Saratoga s 
 sultry days, the familiarity of the voice first catches 
 her attention; then, the conversation comes to her 
 with startling distinctness and these are the words she 
 hears: 
 
 " Have you spoken to the Senator yet, Bullem ? " 
 
 "About the money I way robbed of the night of his 
 election ? You bet that's one of the things brought 
 me to Saratoga that and the Post Office ! " 
 
 " Did you get any satisfaction ? " 
 
 " No, curse him ! he told me he knew nothing about 
 it ; furthermore that if anybody had paid any money to 
 obtain his election it was without his knowledge or 
 consent gave me the Bronco kick and stiff-buck at 
 one and the same time. Said I must have dreamed of 
 having had the eighteen hundred dollars, let alone 
 losing 'em ! No friend of his would have dared to offer 
 a bribe in his name." 
 
 " Well, I think he told the truth, Bob." 
 
 "What! Didn't know that money was paid out to 
 make him an Honorable and a United States Senator? 
 Give that to the coyotes. But I'll be even with 
 him," goes on the man shortly. " Wait till I get back 
 to Silveropolis ; I'll tell 'em of the moralist's fall from 
 grace ! " 
 
 "What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Oh, you know what I mean. Hasn't he got a 
 widow on the string here? Didn't you see him flip the 
 beaut out of the carriage ten minutes ago? That's the 
 reason he shipped his sister off to Europe. He's going 
 to make a long spree of it up here." 
 
 " Perhaps he's only got a fatherly interest in her," 
 laughs Mr. Crossbrand. 
 
 " Fatherly interest ? Hell and Greasers ! Did you 
 ever see a senator have a fatherly interest in any- 
 thing ? You don't know 'em at Washington as I do.
 
 HER SENATOR. 1-29 
 
 I tell you ' Doc. Guernsey's gal ' '11 make head-lines 
 for the Silveropolis Buzzard. Let's go into the bar and 
 take a drink to ' Guernsey's Gal.' ' 
 
 Then the other's words come to her and burn into 
 Evie's brain: "I'll liquor, of course, but it's a pity," 
 remarks Crossbrand, with almost a sigh, ' ' that a man 
 who was as upright as a telegraph pole should be 
 dragged in the mud by a Jezebel siren." 
 
 Now, a good deal of this conversation is true, for, 
 curiously enough, Doc. Guernsey has gone through as 
 little of the moral degeneration often attendant upon 
 an election to the United States Senate as is compatible 
 with success. For few men in the present status of 
 politics in the United States can hope to aspire to the 
 senatorial chamber without a bargain of some kind. 
 Out West, quite often dollars pure and simple do the 
 business, in Eastern and more strait-laced communities, 
 generally promises of office ; but the taint of a political 
 trade is in it just the same and a man after passing 
 through such an election, triumphant politically as he 
 may be, bowed down to as he must be by his con- 
 stituents, a power in the nation as he is, must take his 
 seat in the senatorial chair with his high ideals of 
 political morality somewhat impeached, and generally 
 in his heart the thought: "This office is mine! I 
 bought it ! It is for my use, it is for my good, not that 
 of the people of the United States ! " 
 
 His one thought is generally how he shall get it 
 again, and he shapes his course with that aim in 
 view, and quite often, God be praised, misses his 
 mark! For the old dyed-in-the-wool two-term senator 
 is very apt to imagine there is nothing so high upon 
 this earth as "senatorial courtesy," that the press 
 should not criticise, that the public should not com- 
 plain, that what is done in the senate is of the senate, 
 and every member should stagd by for the honor of the
 
 130 HER SENATOR. 
 
 other. It is not " God save the nation," but " God 
 save us." 
 
 But Evie does not think of the dragging in the mud 
 of the idol of Silveropolis. What concerns her is the 
 dragging in the mud of her own dainty self. She 
 had passed this lightly by in her plan of the campaign 
 which was to win the heart of a magnate of the Senate 
 and sell his vote for her own empty but capacious 
 pocket. 
 
 Her lips tremble as she bursts into bitter laughter 
 and jeers herself, muttering: "Doc. Guernsey's^// 
 I have been seeking for her all over Saratoga, and 
 now ha ! ha ! ha ! I've found her. / am Doc. Guern- 
 sey's GAL. I knew of course I knew that would be 
 the result," she murmurs, her face pale, her eyes star- 
 ing, "that the moment a man was called -my senator 
 I should be styled his mistress! God help me, I did 
 think it ! but I didn't think it would be so bitter, so 
 degrading. " 
 
 Then she bursts out, mocking herself again: "Doc. 
 Guernsey's GAL! Doc. Guernsey's GAL!" And her 
 fair form writhes as she stings herself with the vile 
 epithet. But, forcing herself to calmness, she thinks: 
 " What do I care about rumor so long as I am innocent? 
 Does not everybody in the Bohemia that I live in get 
 the credit of being as light and loose in their morals as 
 they are in their purses?" 
 
 But the epithet will not down in her mind. She 
 laughs a ghastly laugh: " I, who was to have been his 
 Cleopatra, am now called his GAL!" 
 
 But with this comes sudden shock and startling idea. 
 "I shall stoop," she shudders, "without conquering. 
 In this place, with its myriads of women who will soon 
 be here for the races, some good, some indifferent 
 most of them bad I shall be regarded as one of the 
 common herd of summer wives. I shall be no higher in
 
 HER SENATOR, 13! 
 
 his eyes than any of the half dozen ladies who are now 
 casting their glances on him, seeking his power, his 
 v/ealth, and his good graces. J shall be rolled in the 
 mud of his chariot, but shall not flaunt the flag of vic- 
 tory. No, I will ride in the chariot with him; that or 
 nothing' I may be his guiding star, but his slave, 
 never! I will yet be his Cleopatra, even to his undo- 
 ing, for I have heard him talk again to-day of his 
 sainted father! He said his sister was traveling in 
 Europe in luxury where is my sister ? But to do this, 
 I must come to him from a higher plane, not from a 
 lower one ; one where there are no politicians to de- 
 grade me with their tongues, nor constituents from the 
 West to tell of the man 'as upright as a telegraph pole ' 
 being destroyed by a ' Jezebel siren.' I'll stay here no 
 more ! Then if he follows me, I shall know that some 
 day he will be truly MY Senator, not I his GAL!" 
 
 The next morning the Honorable Doc. Guernsey 
 rises a little late perchance, for he has not slept well in 
 the early hours of the night, but withal, is now very 
 debonair and fresh looking, with a dewy posy in his 
 buttonhole. 
 
 To the waiter at their cosy little table for three, in 
 the dining room, the statesman remarks: "I see the 
 ladies have already breakfasted ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," answers the attendant, made affable 
 and talkative by a crisp, new dollar greenback. " They 
 both partook very early this morning." 
 
 This news does not destroy Mr. Guernsey's appe- 
 tite, and, after a leisurely, comfortable and pleasant 
 meal, he strolls out to the office, and says to the clerk : 
 " The ladies have gone out, I imagine?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," replies the gentleman in the office; 
 " they have left the hotel." 
 
 " Oho!" thinks the Senator, as he strides out of the 
 portals. "Gone over to their new cottage, I reckon^
 
 13* HER SENATOR. 
 
 Curious they didn't ask me to look after their trunks!** 
 
 With this he steps down to the little cottage on 
 Circular street, but, to his astonishment, its door is not 
 open, and the sign, " To rent," is still upon, it. 
 
 "That's curious," he thinks. "I'll ask at the 
 agent's;" and is soon at the office of the real estate 
 man, who, to his surprise, tells him that Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor has not taken the cottage. 
 
 "In fact, I received a note from her this morning," 
 remarks the gentleman, "telling me that she had 
 given up the idea, and was leaving Saratoga." 
 
 "Leaving Saratoga!" gasps his auditor. "Young 
 man, you must be loony!" and strides out of the office, 
 making very quick work of it up the hill to the Wind- 
 sor, frequently wiping the perspiration from his fore- 
 head in a dazed manner as he climbs the steep grade. 
 He is out of breath when he arrives at the hotel and 
 strides into the office. 
 
 " You said the ladies by that you meant Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor and Miss Atherton left the hotel. Where did 
 they go ?" he asks, eagerly anxiously. 
 
 " To New York, I believe, sir, by the morning train ! " 
 
 "Gee whizz!" And the Senator staggers out to 
 the front piazza, and sits down astounded, disturbed, 
 and dismayed. The sun seems to have gone out of the 
 heavens to him. A few minutes after he comes back 
 and says, pleadingly: "Are there any any letters 
 for me ? " 
 
 " No, sir not this morning," remarks the clerk. 
 
 Then the sky is very black to the Honorable Mr. 
 Guernsey this bright summer day. However, ten min- 
 utes afterward he goes into the office again and whispers, 
 falteringly : ' ' Any any telegrams ? " 
 
 " Not yet, sir! " 
 
 Then he questions: "Mrs. Montressor and Miss 
 Atherton left hurriedly ? "
 
 HER SENATOR. 133 
 
 "Yes, sir; I think it must have been some sudden 
 news from New York. They came down and paid their 
 bill ; their trunks were already packed, and they had only 
 time to catch the morning train just after breakfast." 
 
 " Sudden news, telegraphic information of a lot of 
 imported bonnets, gowns, and folderols from PanV, 
 eh ? " remarks Mr. Guernsey, attempting jocularity, 
 and stepping out of the hotel, walks about the town, re- 
 marking: "Sudden news? They'll telegraph. Death 
 in the family, perhaps struck 'em silly." 
 
 But his face has such an expression upon it of sudden 
 shock and agitated suspense that Mr. Bob Bullem 
 remarks to his friend Crossbrand : * ' Did you see Guern- 
 sey's phiz? Look at it! By Yankee Doodle, they are 
 going to contest his election sure! " and chuckles to 
 himself as if demented. 
 
 As for poor Guernsey, he passes two unhappy days 
 in which he thinks Saratoga is a gloomy hole, and the 
 spring water is no good and makes him sick, until finally 
 one morning, as he is sitting on the veranda of the 
 hotel meditating about bolting from the "cussed 
 place" the sun once more shines in the heavens to him, 
 for he sees Flora Atherton standing on the portico of 
 the Windsor looking as fresh and untraveled-stained 
 as if she had never left Saratoga. 
 
 With one wave he throws away his half-smoked cigar 
 and clasps her hand, murmuring: "This is fine! Back 
 again, looking as fresh and natural as if you hadn't 
 been away. I suppose you'll occupy your usual seats 
 in the dining room ? I have kept 'em for you, though 
 you didn't deserve it going away without even saying 
 good-bye. But you expected to come up sooner ? " 
 
 "Yes, /did." 
 
 "And Mrs. Mrs. Montressor ?'" This is said 
 eagerly, nervously. 
 
 "I left her in New York."
 
 134 HE* SENATOR. 
 
 Then the sun goes out of the heaven again to Doc. 
 Guernsey. "She she didn't come up ? " he stammers 
 beneath his breath. 
 
 "No, she will not return. Evie has some fad in 
 her head about another place," remarks Flora, sav- 
 agely. "She wouldn't even come up to the races, and 
 I had promised Mr. Slammer to let him bet for me on 
 every one of them." 
 
 "She gave you no no message?" 
 
 This is said in such husky plaintiveness that the 
 actress laughs: "Here's something to raise your 
 spirits," and places in his hand a little scented billet- 
 doux. 
 
 As Flora trips away, Mr. Guernsey opens the 
 following note: 
 
 NEW YORK, July 27. 
 DEAR MR. GUERNSEY: 
 
 Pardon my rudeness in not writing to you the morning I left 
 Saratoga, or bidding you good-bye, but I was compelled by 
 sudden news to depart at once for New York. 
 
 The doctors here recommend sea air for me. I think of 
 taking a cottage at Narragansett Pier for the rest of the season. 
 Should you chance to come that way, run in and say "How do 
 you do T to Your sincere friend, 
 
 EVELYN MONTRESSOR. 
 
 He reads this epistle twice, then meditatively utters 
 these curious words : "When temptation has run away 
 from you, you'd better not run after it, Doc Guern- 
 sey ! " 
 
 But a moment after this gentleman from the West 
 falters: "Great Scott, the poor thing's sick! She 
 needs sea air," next says resolutely: "That's what's 
 been the matter with me up here. I'm a mountain 
 man. I need sea air aiso fusts of it I "
 
 HER SENATOR. 135 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 WANTED A DUENNA! 
 
 Now all this has come about in this way: Evelyn 
 had suddenly packed her trunks and persuaded Miss 
 Atherton to run down with her to New York, the ac- 
 tress imagining it was for a day's jaunt in the city, for 
 Flora has forgotten, in the attractions of the horsey, 
 free-handed, high-betting young Mr. Slammer, the fas- 
 cinations of the penurious, empty-pocketed, artistic, 
 Von Spitzer. Therefore it is to her dismay that the 
 widow informs her that she is not going to return to 
 the fascinations of Saratoga in its racing month. 
 
 "Not go back?" Flora has cried. "Not going 
 to return ? What will the Senator say and Mr. 
 Slammer ? " 
 
 "You can make the Senator content with this note," 
 laughs Mrs. Montressor, handing Flora her epistle, 
 "and young Slammer very happy by reappearing your- 
 self." 
 
 "Without.^;" 
 
 "Certainly!" 
 
 "But the Senator the poor Senator! " 
 
 "Nonsense! " 
 
 And Evie is hard-hearted as regards the poor Sena- 
 tor, also as regards her pretty chum, whose pouts, 
 plaints, and even tears do not change Mrs. Montressor's 
 line of action, now she has made up her mind to it. 
 
 Therefore Flora returns alone to Saratoga, and Mrs. 
 Montressor astonishes Mr. Steinbergh by walking into 
 his private office in Wall street one morning, and saying: 
 " My dear boy, I want you to get me a duenna." 
 
 "A WHAT?"
 
 136 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "A duenna!" 
 
 "We don't deal in the article about here," says the 
 financier, stifling a laugh. 
 
 "A duenna! Perhaps you would call it a chaperone. 
 Some lady to guard me from a censorious world, now 
 that I have lost the protection of a husband." 
 
 And she gives him a charming smile, frank glance, 
 and dainty hand. 
 
 "It appears to me, laughs Steinbergh, "that Claude 
 is the one who needs the protection, judging by the 
 foolish books he makes upon the races. But you want a 
 chaperone ! Why ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you," remarks Evelyn, and proceeds to give 
 Mr. Steinbergh a succinct, vivid, yet humorous, relation 
 of some things that have taken place in Saratoga; not 
 laying bare her innermost mind to the financier, by any 
 means, but still giving him enough of her emotions to 
 show him that the epithet of "Doc Guernsey's^/" has 
 not been pleasing to her. 
 
 " Pooh ! " says the Wall street man. "You shouldn't 
 mind that. The more prominent a gentleman, the 
 more beautiful a lady, the more scandal about them. I 
 myself," here he smiles slightly, "have oftentimes been 
 maligned in the press, chiefly because they claim I'm 
 a millionaire. They have been hating me so long that 
 they wouldn't forgive me now, even if I grew poor. 
 Perchance they wouldn't be kind to thee, even if thou 
 lost thy beauty. You don't want to try the experi- 
 ment, though, do you ? " 
 
 " Not this year," laughs the widow. Then she says, 
 coming to her point again : "Can't you, among all the 
 people who have applied to you for financial points, for 
 hints upon stocks, in the great following, not of a man 
 who is rich, but the greater following of a man who can 
 make others rich, think of some lady who has just the 
 tip of her finger in the doorway of society some one I
 
 HER SENATOR. 137 
 
 can push in, grab hold of and go in with her ? You do 
 everything, you are omnipotent! " 
 
 "Not socially," remarks the financier very grimly; 
 for his name has just been slated for a vacant 
 place in the list of Patriarchs, and it is a greater bitter- 
 ness to him than if he had been defeated in a stock 
 speculation. Perhaps this very feeling makes him pity 
 the fair would-be wanderer from Bohemia, and he says: 
 "I'll see. Where are you stopping? I'll call upon 
 you in the next day or two." 
 
 " At the Waldorf," says the lady. 
 
 " What?" 
 
 "AT THE WALDORF!" 
 
 And she goes away, leaving him so impressed by 
 this remark that he mutters to himself, "She's a great 
 woman!" Then meditates, perchance a little sadly: 
 " She'll soon be wanting me to be speculating in stocks 
 for her again." 
 
 The next day Mr. Steinbergh calls at this far-famed 
 hotel, and, taking Evie to a performance at the Madi- 
 son Square Roof Garden, and thereafter to supper at 
 Delmonico's, tells her that he has arranged the matter 
 for her. 
 
 Senora de Oriva, of Cuba, a lady of reduced for- 
 tune, her estates having suffered greatly by the politi- 
 cal uncertainties of the island, is anxious to add to her 
 income. "This lady," he remarks, " lives in Washing- 
 ton during the winter. She is well known at the Span- 
 ish Embassy, and consequently has a certain entrte^ 
 though undoubtedly a limited one, to society there. 
 She is a very pleasant and charming woman and not 
 over beautiful," he continues, with a grimace. "But 
 I think she may be of some assistance to you. Her 
 appearance indicates a decided adherence to the con- 
 venances of society and a moral rectitude that is im- 
 pressive. She has a son who is a romantic creaturt
 
 138 HR SENATOR. 
 
 but he is away and doesn't count. You think of going 
 to Narragansett ? " 
 
 "Yes," replies the lady, "my purse does not per- 
 mit Newport." 
 
 "In Newport I don't think Seftora de Oriva would 
 be of much use to you, but at Narragansett she may be 
 of more benefit. I shall probably see you there," 
 adds Mr. Steinbergh as he says adieu. "I have now 
 a new white steam yacht called the Goldfinch." 
 
 "Ah, come I shall make up a yachting party for 
 you," remarks Mrs. Montressor; then she says impul- 
 sively: " How can I ever thank you?" 
 
 Perchance his glance answers her, but she will 
 not understand, and says lightly, " Au revvir," and 
 goes up in the elevator of the Waldorf from his Teu- 
 tonic eyes, that grow almost pathetic as they look 
 after her. 
 
 So it comes to pass that in a pretty little cottage at 
 Narragansett Pier, a few days after this, Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor is sitting on the lawn talking to Mr. Steinbergh, 
 who has this day run over in his yacht, the Goldfinch, 
 from Newport. Seftora de Oriva is doing her knitting on 
 the porch in a placid way ; the air is fresh with sea breeze, 
 the sun is bright overhead, and their conversation is 
 light, happy, debonair, perchance even flirtatious. 
 To them comes a crunching step on the gravel walk, and 
 Evelyn, looking up, sees Doc Guernsey gazing at the 
 financier with the look of a grizzly bear. 
 
 She knows she has him! Oh, the joy, the triumph! 
 
 "What, here at last?" cries Evie with such un- 
 affected delight that Bruin grows as good-natured as if 
 ne were eating honey and as smooth as if his claws 
 were sheathed in velvet. 
 
 " Yes, I had to come down to Newport to see Chip- 
 pie on political business. He's my senior senator, you 
 know. But Newport was too rich for my blood, so I
 
 HER SENATOR. 139 
 
 thought I'd run over here and see if you were in the 
 land of the living." 
 
 "I have done just the same thing in my steam 
 yacht," remarks Mr. Steinbergh as Evie is shaking 
 hands with the statesman from the West. 
 
 " This is delightful," cries the widow. " I shall give 
 you two lunch in about five minutes if Senora de Oriva 
 doesn't object. You know she's my chaperone here," 
 she says, following Mr. Guernsey's relieved glance at 
 the duenna, a glance that grows into a spasm of aston- 
 ishment ; for the appearance of the Spanish lady is such as 
 would give any man dismay, for no greater dragon of vir- 
 tue in appearance has ever been exhibited in Spanish 
 plays. She has the eyes of a hawk, only larger and more 
 piercing; her nose is like unto the beak of an eagle, 
 though somewhat sharper ; her figure is gaunt beyond 
 gauntness, and displays in low-necked dress in 
 the afternoon manner of the Spaniard. Besides this, 
 she has a mustache of such long, dark, strong hair that 
 for one moment Guernsey has thought she is a man in 
 disguise. Still with all this her manners are those of a 
 lady who has been born almost in the purple; her voice, 
 to the astonishment of those who look upon her and 
 have not heard it, is sweet and melodious. 
 
 A minute after the Senator is presented and received 
 with great empressement by the Castilian dragon; for 
 senators are very great men in Washington, and she 
 has lived there long enough to know their potency and 
 status. 
 
 " El nucvo senador from Populoso. The honor is 
 mine," she murmurs, as she courtesies to Guernsey's 
 affable bow. 
 
 A minute later Evelyn goes in with her to assist the 
 preparation of her hospitable board, leaving the two 
 gentlemen together. 
 
 "What do you think of her? " sayi Steinbergh smiling.
 
 140 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "Who, Mrs. Montressor ? She's a rosebud." 
 
 "I referred to her chaperon,e" returns the financier 
 dryly. 
 
 "Great Scott! " exclaims Guernsey, "she's the only 
 woman I would forgive for shaving! "at which they 
 both burst out laughing, and would be very friendly 
 did they not both so much admire Mrs. Montressor. 
 
 A moment after Senora de Oriva requests the gentle- 
 man to "deign to accept lunch," which they both do 
 with an alertness born of a Narragansett appetite that 
 comes from sea air. 
 
 They enter to find Evie seated at the head cf a 
 pretty little table adorned by flowers and, with one at her 
 right hand and the other at her left and virtue person- 
 ified by the Spanish dragon at the foot, make a delight- 
 ful meal of it. 
 
 "You found Newport too rich for your blood, Sena- 
 tor? " remarks Steinbergh, a quizzical smile on his astute 
 face. 
 
 "Yes, Chippie tried to do the right thing for me 
 socially over there, but I felt as if I were in a foreign 
 land," replies the Solon. Then he adds somewhat 
 sadly: "International marriages and international 
 railroad stocks have sapped the patriotism in Newport 
 women and New York stockbrokers." 
 
 "Pooh! we needn't be afraid of European stock 
 quotations if Congress will only give us a stable cur- 
 rency based upon the gold dollar of the world," 
 answers the financier lightly. 
 
 At this the silver man stabs fork into his lobster, 
 glares at the gold bug, and mutters: "That isn't 
 patriotic. Silver is our metal ! We've got more of it 
 out West than any country on earth." 
 
 "Yes, we've got too much of it in Washington," 
 replies the Wall street man. ' 'Several hundred millions 
 are now stored in the treasury vaults and nobody wants
 
 HER SENATOR. 141 
 
 it. Out West you don't want it You only want to 
 sell it higher than the market." 
 
 "Good Heavens!" pathetically murmurs Mrs. 
 Montressor, who is staring at the two animated gen- 
 tlemen. "Can't you find a subject upon which both 
 the silver man and the gold bug can agree ? " 
 
 " I think we can," laughs Mr. Steinbergh gazing at 
 her. 
 
 At which Guernsey remarks: "I am with you! " 
 
 And they do well to agree on her, for she is brighter 
 than gold and fairer than silver, though she is gener- 
 ally an imported article, her gown being of the finest 
 Lyons silk, though very light and floating, her laces 
 coming from the looms of Valenciennes. The only 
 thing she has about her which is American is her 
 beauty, and even that has at times French touches in 
 it, the results of her baby life in Paris and the blood of 
 her mother, the New Orleans Creole, which give to her 
 vivacity, lightness and an idealized chic, though under- 
 neath her airs, graces, and feminine deliciousness, is a 
 resolute spirit and a mind with a good deal of femi- 
 nine hit-or-miss logic in it. 
 
 Even now, she is looking at these two gentlemen, 
 one the financier, who controls the Gelatine Trust, and 
 the other the Senator, who has the voting power upon 
 the duties to be placed on that article, and is calculat- 
 ing how to make the one useful to her in conjunction 
 with the other. 
 
 But no such thought is on her face; it has only 
 witchery, fascination, subtle abandon, and that God- 
 given gift to man or woman, ineffable charm of manner. 
 
 So the lunch goes off quite pleasantly, Evelyn per- 
 mitting the gentlemen to talk and noting rather 
 shrewdly the position they bear to each other. From 
 Mr. Steinbergh's actions she judges that he wishes to 
 make the Senator his friend. He avoids all discussion
 
 I4 HER SENATOR. 
 
 of points either political or financial upon which they 
 disagree and very diplomatically discusses with the poli- 
 tician subjects upon which they have views in common. 
 
 She is right in this, for Steinbergh ever since he has 
 met the Western gentleman has determined to gain the 
 confidence and, if possible, the friendship of the Hon- 
 orable James B. Guernsey, Senator from Populoso, 
 whose vote will be a very important factor in deciding 
 the schedule of duties upon imported gelatine exceed- 
 ingly important because he is a silver man and will per- 
 haps have influence among the silver senators. For 
 Steinbergh has discovered that Guernsey is a man of 
 what is called out West "backbone " and that he has 
 ideas in his cerebrum to stiffen his spinal marrow. 
 
 Even at the lunch table, during light conversation, 
 the capitalist becomes certain that his vis-&-vis is not a 
 man to be purchased with money or tips on stocks. 
 Any attempt of that kind he would surely and sternly 
 resent, though he is very open to friendship and good- 
 fellowship. 
 
 "All the better for me," cogitates the financier, "if 
 I get him! all' the stronger his vote, all the more 
 potent his influence." 
 
 He also discovers that Guernsey is very susceptible 
 to the glances of the fair lady at the head of the table, 
 and cogitates grimly: " How beautifully she plays her 
 game to catch this Western fish. " 
 
 Suddenly there flies into his mind: "What does 
 she mean to do with this fish after she has landed it?" 
 
 Altogether, as he sips his coffee after the meal, Mr. 
 Steinbergh's thoughts are not pleasant. It is never 
 agreeable to any man to find another has stepped into 
 his place with a pretty woman. But Steinbergh is not 
 only a man of sentiment but a man of affairs, and busi- 
 ness in him dominates all else. It is this that has 
 given him his great success.
 
 HER SENATOR. 143 
 
 *' Since Mrs. Montressor has made up her mind to 
 make me play second violin to the senator," he cogi- 
 tates, " I may at least use her influence." 
 
 Acting upon this idea, for the latter half of the meal he 
 poses simply as the well-wishing friend of their hostess. 
 During the first courses, he had been a competitor with 
 Guernsey for the lady's smiles ; if she gave the 
 Western man a mocking look, an enchanting glance, 
 he had struggled to obtain one for himself. Now he 
 drops out of the race and permits the last entry to make 
 the running, devoting himself to Senora de Oriva and her 
 mustache ; but it is with a sigh philosopher as he is 
 that he turns away from the exquisite face and grace- 
 ful figure and thinks, " Is the pioneer Solon to get 
 what I long for? " 
 
 This is an opportunity the Castilian duenna has been 
 waiting for. She takes immediate advantage of it, and 
 says: " Senor Steinbergh, you remember my boy ?" 
 
 "Yes," answers the financier, abstractedly, as he 
 catches in Evie's light chatter; " You forgive me for 
 running away from you at Saratoga, don't you, Mr 
 Guernsey ?" 
 
 "You remember him! It is well!" continues the 
 Senora, in intense Spanish tone. " You remember 
 my noble-hearted Gonzalo. The poor patriotic boy 
 has gone back to Cuba. I am in an agony. He has 
 learned to talk, with an open tongue, politics in 
 America; he cannot remember that the mouth should 
 be closed and the tongue should be cut off in Cuba. I 
 tremble when I think of him. I have written, implor- 
 ing him to come back. He is so impetuous, the Gov- 
 ernment will kill him for his brave words. Could you 
 not, when he returns, kind Senor who does everybody 
 good, even yourself could you not get him an honor- 
 able position in one of your gelatine refineries ? He 
 knows all about boiling the gelatine. "
 
 144 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "When he gets back I'll see about it, " murmurs Mr. 
 Steinbergh absent-mindedly, and rising from the table, 
 adds: "If you'll excuse me I'll go out and smoke a 
 cigar." 
 
 For just now Guernsey's voice has come to him in 
 stentoriaa western whisper: "You'll have to be mighty 
 kind to me down here, because you treated me so 
 sharp, snappy, and coltish up at the Springs." 
 
 This speech, as the Wall Street man sits down to 
 smoke, is not made pleasant even by the flavor of a 
 magnificent cigar. But the philosophy in him over- 
 comes the sentiment: as he smokes he meditates. He 
 knows the Gelatine Trust is going to have the fight of 
 its existence in the United States Senate. The House 
 is safe, but the Senate ! There will come the contest. 
 
 "I don't believe I can influence him a little bit and 
 this man's vote and assistance would nearly make it 
 certain for us. Money won't buy him, social success, 
 even if I could arrange it, he would scorn. What 
 other bribe have I to offer him ? " 
 
 As he meditates he chances to glance through the 
 open window into the dining-room and there sees an 
 expression on Doc Guernsey's face that makes him 
 think with startling intuition: "By Heavens, he loves 
 her! She can do it! Evie has the influence that I, 
 Steinbergh, cannot obtain. She must make his vote 
 her vote and then I will buy her vote ! " 
 
 A moment later the two come out of the dining- 
 room, the New Yorker offers the Westerner one of his 
 cigars, and as they smoke the gentlemen grow very 
 friendly, for Steinbergh's guarded manner to Evelyn 
 has cast out jealousy from the statesman's strong but 
 simple mind. 
 
 " You can't hear the murmur of the sea on your ve- 
 randa," remarks Guernsey. 
 
 "And yet we are very near the water," ^plies Evie;
 
 HER SENATOR. 145 
 
 "but the ocean is as quiet as a lamb. What a day it 
 would be for a sail ! " 
 
 "Would you like one ? " queries Steinbergh suddenly. 
 "We always keep steam up off the pier. What do 
 you say to a couple hours' run to Block Island ? " 
 
 ' * Lovely ! " cries Evelyn. ' ' You'll come, of course, 
 Mr. Guernsey ? " 
 
 ' 'Of of course, " falters the Senator, souvenirs of some 
 extraordinary feelings that had come to him as he had 
 journeyed across the open bay on the steamer from 
 Newport, tending to make him cautious in the matter. 
 Ten minutes later they are all on board the Gold- 
 finch, which floats on the water like a great white 
 swan.
 
 146 HER SENATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE HOP AT THE NARRAGANSETT CASINO. 
 
 ON her deck the gentlemen contrive to enjoy them- 
 selves very pleasantly ; at least Guernsey does, for Evie 
 this day is a mixture of vivacious artlessness and girl- 
 ish frankness, as she favors her Western admirer with 
 one or two of those////<?.r confidences that are so dear to 
 the masculine heart. 
 
 Twice she says: "You're perfectly awful!" and 
 once she tells him he must help her down the com- 
 panion-ladder, his arm is so strong, and his sailor 
 feet so firm. These both are palpable fibs, for 
 Guernsey is behaving himself very well, and his sea- 
 legs are the most erratic on the ship, but they are said 
 in tete-&-t$te whispers and bring joy into his soul 
 which is growing ardent and romantic. 
 
 As for Steinbergh, he forces himself to attentions to 
 the Spanish duenna, whose appearance not only com- 
 pels virtue, but offers a destroys vice. For as Mr. 
 Guernsey cogitates: "She would discourage even a 
 cowboy on a spree." 
 
 Consequently La Oriva's beauty does not tempt the 
 gentleman from Wall Street so greatly that he makes 
 the yachting jaunt a long one. Besides, the Goldfinch is 
 very fast and soon takes them to Block Island, where the 
 ocean swell, coming all the way from Spain, causes the 
 Western landsman suddenly to turn pale and ejacu- 
 late : "Great Scotty!" and a minute after falter : 
 " Hadn't we better get back in time for for dinner ?" 
 Therefore the run back is made rapidly. 
 
 By the time they are off the Casino landing-place,
 
 HER SENATOR. 147 
 
 Guernsey has recovered sufficiently to offer a very gallant 
 arm to his charmer, as she trips down the gangway to the 
 steam-launch ; the fair one emitting one or two pathetic 
 little shudders as the vessel lurches, and clutching very 
 tightly with fairy hands the stalwart arm of the gentle- 
 man from the West attentions that send thrills through 
 his strong frame, and make him think yachting is a de- 
 lightful pastime. 
 
 Mr. Steinbergh does not accompany them to the shore j 
 he waves them adieu from his deck, remarking: "I 
 am compelled to return immediately to Newport." 
 
 He doesn't care to look on this business any more, 
 though it is to his financial interest. And once or twice 
 as his vessel glides through the water, making for the 
 " City by the Sea," he utters a suppressed anathema, 
 even though he knows that he has probably laid the foun- 
 dation for a great business stroke. But business does not 
 always still the beating of the heart, and the chink of gold 
 is not always the happiest sound upon this earth, when to 
 gain it the financier is compelled to turn his eyes from 
 beauty and the hope of making it his own. 
 
 As for Mr. Guernsey no such unpleasant feelings 
 dominate his manly bosom. His mien becomes more 
 confident as they near the shore. The thought that 
 he is approaching terra firma makes him more auda- 
 cious. He would fairly lift the sweet widow from the 
 steam launch did he not suddenly recollect that polite- 
 ness might require a similar gallantry to her duenna. 
 Therefore, he simply presents his hand and assists 
 both ladies from the boat. 
 
 Then they stroll along Ocean Road, taking a round- 
 about way to the little cottage on Central Street It 
 is a pleasant walk, made gay with pretty equipages and 
 dashing turnouts; a four-in-hand drives past them 
 from the Country Club, with tooting horn and prancing 
 steeds; victorias and pony phaetons come flying in
 
 148 HER SENATOR. 
 
 review, and there are bikes and bikemen and bikesses 
 innumerable. The place is bright with pretty women 
 in fairy toilettes and gallant men who are looking after 
 them, for "The Pier" is the one watering-place 
 supremely blest by masculine humanity during its 
 season. Newport is often short of beaux, but Narra- 
 gansett always has enough. Men like its free-and- 
 easy, go-as-you-please, do-what-you-choose life, and its 
 sea bathing is the finest on the coast, and its girls 
 are sample beauties from the four points of the com- 
 pass. 
 
 But though they pause to gaze, they are soon at the 
 cottage on Central Street. Here Mr. Guernsey takes 
 his farewell, remarking: 
 
 " I have succeeded in obtaining a very small room at 
 the Gladstone !" 
 
 "You are not going to remain long ?" whispers the 
 lady, inquiry perchance entreaty in her eyes. 
 
 "Well, that's a thing to be determined hereafter. " 
 
 " In that case you had better make the most of your 
 time," laughs Mrs. Montressor. "You go to the 
 Casino this evening, I presume ? There will be music 
 by two bands, moon and electric lights, a hop in the 
 ballroom and me /" 
 
 ' ' I'm there ! " remarks the Senator suddenly. Then 
 he mutters, for somehow he is growing bold : "I'll come 
 up and take you down." 
 
 "You you don't mind Seftora de Oriva accompany' 
 ing us ? " murmurs Evelyn, prodding with parasol 
 a little boot that peeps from under white laces. 
 
 "With all the pleasure in the world. I dote on the 
 Sefiora," remarks Guernsey enthusiastically, as he 
 strides down the gravel walk ; but his face does not 
 show the eagerness his words suggest. 
 
 About nine o'clock the gentleman presents himself 
 at the villa. Evie, cloaked and hooded, is awaiting
 
 HER SENATOR. 149 
 
 him; likewise the Seftora, who has just received a letter 
 from her son, who is en route for New York. 
 
 "My noble, truant boy, muchachito mio ! when you 
 see him you'll love him, Senor Guernsey," she mur- 
 murs, and puts her gaunt bare arm upon the Senator's 
 broadcloth sleeve. 
 
 "Yes, he must be a hummer," says the Western 
 man, "judging by his mother." 
 
 " Gracias Senor Senador ! You do me too much 
 honor," murmers the dragon courtesying to the earth; 
 a moment after she adds in kindly tones, "I shall 
 ask you to look after Senora Montressor this evening, 
 as I do not dance. I know lean trust a high official." 
 
 "Of that I must take my chances," laughs Evie, 
 running down the path before them. 
 
 A minute after, however, she places, very confiding- 
 ly, a tiny, well-gloved hand upon Guernsey's arm, and 
 they walk down, under green trees, and past flowering 
 hedges to the center of the town. Then going in by 
 the side entrance they stand in the Casino, which is 
 now a blaze of electric lights ; upon its large porticos, 
 pavilion and tower, are fair women and their cavaliers, 
 who are listening to the music of the Hungarian band. 
 
 " You'll come in to the hop? "remarks Evie sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I may as well see the sights," and he 
 leads her and her chaperone to the ladies' dressing room. 
 
 From this, having thrown off her wraps, Evie 
 emerges n a gown that startles and allures him, for it 
 is the first time he has seen her in full evening dress. 
 The toilettes she had worn at Saratoga, even at 
 hotel hops, had been demi-ones, Evie not having cared 
 to enter greatly into the general social life of the place. 
 Here, having made up her mind to get into society, 
 and having, through Senora de Oriva, made the acquaint- 
 ance of three or four Washington gentlemen, one or
 
 I5O HER SENATOR. 
 
 two of whom are connected with foreign embassies, and 
 several ladies with whom her chaperone had speaking 
 acquaintance at Washington, Mrs. Montressor has 
 determined, having got the tip of her finger in, to 
 insinuate her fair hand and make a big fight to pull 
 herself bodily into the social swim which she fondly 
 hopes will take her as far as possible away from her 
 deserted Bohemia. 
 
 Actuated by this idea, she has already made fearful 
 inroads into her campaign money, as she calls it, for 
 toilettes that are to delight mankind, especially this 
 gentleman, who gazes at her, his eyes growing misty 
 with admiration. Dreamy blue is her color this even- 
 ing. She is a mass of cloudy effects, sunshiny rain- 
 bowy ; from which gleam forth arms white as snow, and 
 neck, shoulders and bust dazzling as Parian marble 
 beneath the brilliant lights that illumine their graceful 
 curves. Curiously enough she wears no jewelry save 
 the little bracelet the Senator had clasped upon her 
 arm in Saratoga, when she thought she felt his mus- 
 tache graze her wrist. 
 
 A minute later they are in the ballroom, where they 
 make the Sefiora comfortable, seated beside a lady to 
 whom she babbles of her noble-hearted boy, Gonzalo. 
 But Guernsey does not enjoy the hop, for Evie accepts 
 invitations from three or four gentlemen with long 
 mustaches and foreign ways, who come to her and ask 
 the pleasure of the dance. He thinks that young 
 Signor Boccaccio, of the Italian Legation, holds her 
 perchance a little too tightly as they circle in the 
 mazes of the waltz, and that the eyes of Monsieur de 
 Giers, of Belgium, sparkle too brightly as he leads her 
 through a quadrille, and that young Billy Frostwater 
 is altogether too chipper and bold as he suggests : ' 'What 
 do you say to moonlight in the tower with me, and 
 champagne for two 1 "
 
 HER SENATOR. I$I 
 
 But though Evie will dance with gentlemen she will 
 not flirt with them with Guernsey's eyes upon her. 
 
 Therefore she says laughingly to young Mr. Frost- 
 water : ' ' The tower is too chilly this evening. Persuade 
 some other lady to the rheumatism. " 
 
 "Oh, I will," remarks Mr. Billy with the usual ef- 
 frontery of American youth. "There are lots of girls 
 here and I own a few of them." 
 
 But Evie desires to know a few of these girls also, 
 and Mr. Guernsey stares as he sees how much trouble 
 she takes to make herself agreeable to those ladies with 
 whom she is already upon speaking terms. Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor is very well aware that social distinction comes 
 to a woman not from the attentions of men, but 
 through the good offices of her own sex. 
 
 " I'll I'll go out and smoke a cigar on the veranda/' 
 the Senator remarks, "while you talk to the ladies." 
 
 " Not at all. Let me present you to Mrs. Dacre of 
 Washington. I know she would like to meet you. " 
 
 And Mrs. Dacre does, being very proud and happy to 
 encounter a new United States Senator of whom she in- 
 tends to make a lion during the Washington season, for 
 Senators are very great men in the capital though their 
 merits are not so universally recognized throughout the 
 country at large. Thus Evie parades her Senator very 
 deftly, not as her conquest, but as her friend, a 
 method that gives her social distinction, but does not 
 make her enemies among her own sex. 
 
 A few minutes later the Senator gallantly invites the 
 ladies into the restaurant for supper, and Evelyn, 
 though she is hardly aware of it has done a very good 
 social stroke for herself this evening, for Mrs. Dacre, 
 though very modest at the Pier, is a grand dame in 
 Washington and the entree to her house is a little social 
 stepping-stone at the capital. 
 
 They have a very pleasant hour of it over their lob-
 
 152 HER SENATOR. 
 
 sters and champagne ; the party being joined by young 
 Frostwater and the maiden he has honored by making 
 his tower girl this evening. She chances to be the 
 daughter of Mrs. Dacre and is a rather pretty, flippant 
 miss of eighteen, who likes men to tell her they love 
 her, if not with their tongues with their eyes; though 
 sometimes she is accommodated by the tongue also. 
 
 Turning from this damsel, young Frostwater, who 
 being adolescent likes ladies slightly his senior, devotes 
 himself at the supper table to Evelyn, drinking care- 
 lessly from her glass and crying, " Oh, what delicious 
 fizz. Ah, excuse my mistake. The Widow's glass. 
 Twas the flavor of her lips!" 
 
 Effusions that make the Spanish lady glare with all 
 her hawk's eyes and the Honorable James G. Guernsey 
 cuss " Young America " under his breath. 
 
 Try as he will the Senator has no opportunity of 
 tttc-a-tetc with Evie, and bids her good-bye at her door 
 this evening somewhat disappointedly, though the lady 
 suggests that she will be at the bathing place during 
 the next forenoon. 
 
 "There will be plenty there," she says, " and if you 
 don't take a dip in the surf you can enjoy looking on." 
 
 " Swimming is one of my grand holds!" replies the 
 Senator impressively. ' * You can rely on me, " and goes 
 away somewhat mollified, and thinking over the matter, 
 mutters, as he places another cigar to his lips: "I 
 downed that financier anyway, and as for that young 
 flippity-jib, Frostwater, she wouldn't go to the tower 
 with him. Some day I'll try her on that excursion 
 myself. Some day I'll I'll make a darned fool of 
 myself." 
 
 Though just what he means by this is not clear even 
 in his own mind. All he knows is that the widow is 
 prettier and more fascinating than even when his mus- 
 tache brushed her wrist at Saratoga.
 
 HER SENATOR. 153 
 
 "Quite a society bird, too," he thinks. "And bet- 
 ter looking than any of the high-falutins Chippie intro- 
 duced me to at Newport." 
 
 As for the lady, she is discontented also. She is 
 snarling at herself in the solitude of her dainty cham- 
 ber, and muttering: "Thank God, even to-day he gab- 
 bled of his father being a good man ! That is my safe- 
 guard. That keeps me from despising myself ! That 
 makes my conscience clear! He said his sister was 
 traveling in Europe in luxury! Where is my sister? 
 Besides, he's bad, anyway ; there must be some great, 
 big, awful, BAD spot in him. He is the son of his 
 father!" 
 
 Then, suddenly, blushes run over her fair cheeks 
 and .snowy shoulders, as she thinks: "Perchance some 
 day I'll find out how wicked he really can be. Some 
 day I may indeed want my duenna!"
 
 154 HER SENATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF THE GELATINE TRUST. 
 
 THE next morning, striding along Beach Row, the 
 Honorable James B. Guernsey chances to encounter 
 Mrs. Montressor without chaperone. She is in the 
 freshest of white walking dresses, and greets the Sena- 
 tor very easily and affably. 
 
 "Suppose we walk down to the bathing booth," she 
 suggests. 
 
 And the gentleman assenting, they stroll past the 
 old-time affairs with their awnings in front of them, 
 and from there on to Sherry's magnificent pavilion, where 
 the band is playing. The scene is bright with color, 
 the sky is blue, and the waves are as soft as if it were 
 an Italian sea. The surf is filled with five hundred 
 pretty girls and five hundred athletic young men, who 
 are playing mermaids and mermen among the breakers, 
 swimming out to the rafts and sporting generally 
 with Neptune and Cupid at the same time. 
 
 "You think of indulging in a plunge? " queries the 
 Senator, eagerly. Perchance he thinks his fair com- 
 panion would look very well in a Narragansett bathing 
 dress. 
 
 "Not this morning. Let us sit by Mrs. Dacre and 
 listen to the band." 
 
 As they take chairs, Mr. Guernsey, from a passing 
 newsboy, buys a copy of one of the New York papers of 
 the morning, these journals arriving very promptly 
 each day about the hour of noon. 
 
 While he glances over its columns the ladies chat A 
 minute after, their confidences are arrested by a sup- 
 pressed execration from the Western gentleman, who
 
 HER SENATOR. 1 55 
 
 is biting his lips over something he is reading in the 
 paper. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " ask the ladies, Mrs. Dacre 
 adding: "You use strong language !" 
 
 "The language of an insulted man. You'll excuse 
 me, ladies, I forgot you were here ; I forgot everything 
 but this outrage. Look at it! " 
 
 And glancing at the paper Evie sees in bold type and 
 strong headlines: "IN THE TOILS OF THE GELATINE TRUST 
 
 THE NEW SILVER SENATOR AND THE MAGNATE OF THE 
 
 TRUST ON THE LATTER*S YACHT CHAMPAGNE AND 
 
 GELATINE DUTIES ARE THE PEOPLE TO BE BETRAYED 
 
 ONCE MORE ? WAS IT BY APPOINTMENT? " 
 
 Beneath them is half a column of telegraphic com- 
 munication full of insinuations to a similar effect from 
 the Pier, which have been sent by some enterprising re- 
 porter. Upon this subject there is also an editorial, 
 hoping the young Senator has escaped and warning 
 him of his danger. 
 
 "Isn't it an outrage! " cries Evie excitedly. 
 
 ' It's an infernal calumny! " mutters Guernsey. 
 
 "It's a cruel shame!" ejaculates Mrs. Dacre. 
 
 A moment after the statesman mutters: "They've 
 deprived me of a friend. Steinbergh and I would have 
 been good companions. Not that it would have affected 
 my vote on the bill. They cut me off from social inter- 
 course with a man I liked as if every 'good morning' 
 that passed between us was a cipher communication, 
 and every glass of wine I drank with him was a 
 bribe. " 
 
 Evie looks serious also, for this surely shows her 
 two things: " First; that the omnipresent reporter has 
 his argus eye upon the Honorable James B. Guernsey, 
 of Populoso, and that any decided flirtation with him will 
 doubtless be noted and commented upon by the jour- 
 nals throughout the country. Second; that this is
 
 156 HER SENATOR. 
 
 probably an end of any intimacy between the Senator 
 and Steinbergh, which will make her position more 
 embarrassing." But a moment after she laughs to her- 
 self: "And more powerful 7 I will be The Gelatine 
 Trust's last hope. I can now name my price and 
 Steinbergh must pay it ! " 
 
 Her musings are broken in upon by Guernsey re- 
 marking placidly: " Excuse my impatience, ladies! I 
 have been commented upon by newspapers before, and 
 my skin should have been thicker. To-day I am out 
 for a lark, and I propose to throw care into the ocean. " 
 With this he tosses the paper into the surf that has run 
 up the beach and is playing very close to the front of 
 the pavilion. 
 
 And Guernsey this day is on a lark ! His high spirits 
 communicate themselves to Mrs. Dacre, who listens to 
 his stories of the West, in one of which he stabs 
 Evelyn, telling about his father saving a child from a 
 bear and what a noble exponent of American civiliza- 
 tion the old gentleman was, closing his eulogium by 
 remarking, "My dad founded the orphan asylum, you 
 know, at Silveropolis." 
 
 This hardens the widow's heart against him and her 
 smiles were not so sunny as they would be if he would 
 let his papa's memory alone ; and she determines to 
 play her game very cautiously. She knows she is 
 dallying with edged tools; that this gentleman whose 
 heart she proposes to gain and whose mind she pro- 
 poses to influence is so high in the political world that 
 any action of hers in regard to him will be noted. 
 "Mr. Guernsey and myself," she cogently thinks, 
 "must play our little rubber under an awning or an 
 umbrella. " 
 
 Therefore all this day though the Solon strives 
 for tete-a-li( he gets very little; approaching more 
 nearly perhaps to it than elsewhere upon the crowded
 
 HER SENATOR. 157 
 
 piazza cf the Casino, to which place they stroll, as 
 is the custom, to sit down and enjoy refreshments and 
 music immediately before lunch. 
 
 Here he has a chance to say: " You are not treating 
 me very well. Not as nicely as at Saratoga." 
 
 "No? Why?" queries the lady, pretending not to 
 understand him. 
 
 "Well, up at the Springs I saw a good deal more of 
 you, and other fellows saw a good deal less." 
 
 The lady has been talking with some passing gentle- 
 men. 
 
 "Ah, there I had but few friends. Besides, you 
 would not have reporters put my name in the naughty 
 papers beside yours, would you ?" 
 
 At this Mr. Guernsey grinds his teeth, as if the loss 
 of Steinbergh was as nothing to the bar to intimacy 
 that is now put on him. 
 
 " I wouldn't care," he says shortly. 
 
 "No?" And her open blue eyes look at him 
 frankly. 
 
 " No, I'll be " here he checks himself. " I'll be 
 
 blessed if I would." 
 
 "Yes, but you must remember me," she murmurs; 
 then falters impulsively, "Thank you for the compli- 
 ment!" This last with a veiled glance that makes 
 Guernsey that afternoon at the Gladstone eat his 
 dinner in a joyous trance. 
 
 The next morning a telegraph boy brings a little yel- 
 low envelope to the villa, and opening it Evie gives a 
 cry of joy. 
 
 " I know what that means," she thinks as she reads: 
 
 Please come to New York at once; I want to see you about 
 an investment in stocks. 
 
 STEINBERGH. 
 
 "The first time it was /who 'asked him to invest. 
 This time he makes petition." she laughs, and fortu-
 
 158 HER SENATOR. 
 
 nately catching the eleven o'clock train from Narra- 
 gansett, is at the Waldorf that afternoon. 
 
 She has wired her address to the financier, and he 
 calls upon her. "I am very much obliged to you for 
 coming in this fearful hot weather to New York," he 
 says. "Let us try to get a little cool air together. 
 How would you like to drive to Fort Washington for 
 dinner, and as we return, I will tell you something I 
 have done for you." 
 
 "I'll go driving with you with pleasure," answers 
 the lady. Then looking at him sighs: "I fear it 
 must be for the last time." 
 
 "That is what I fear also," answers the financier, 
 " and it is in that regard that I wish to speak to you." 
 
 Therefore, after dinner, by the pretty banks of the 
 Hudson on the veranda of the hotel at Fort Washing- 
 ton, Mr. Steinbergh says diplomatically, yet almost 
 pathetically: "I have been thinking of your future." 
 
 "Well, tell me about it." 
 
 "Not on this crowded portico! Somebody may 
 have large ears. As we drive back together if you 
 will permit me I will send my groom to town by rail 
 there is no place more safe for important communica- 
 tions than the t&te-b-tcte of an open phaeton flying along 
 the road. " 
 
 "As you please," answers the lady. 
 
 A few minutes after, these arrangements have been 
 made, and as they drive down St. Nicholas avenue, 
 Mr. Steinbergh's oair of magnificent grays are their 
 only confidants. 
 
 " I have been thinking of your future," remarks the 
 financier. "I have suffered, for I have relinquished a 
 hope " here he can feel the lady at his side give a lit- 
 tle start, but she is too diplomatic to ask what hope. 
 "I see that you have determined upon a life in Wash- 
 ington. I will aid you to it. A very handsome apart-
 
 HER SENATOR. 159 
 
 ment magnificently furnished with the proper serrants 
 and an equipage will be at your service with sufficient 
 money to properly support it. I have also taken the 
 liberty, Mrs. Montressor, of speculating a little more 
 for you in stocks. I hope you will pardon my assur- 
 ance." 
 
 " I will," cries Evie excitedly, "if you won\ " 
 
 "You're like the world, "he laughs. "It will excuse 
 anything but failure. But, as usual, I won. My 
 brokers paid in on your account to-day ten thousand 
 four hundred and seventy-five dollars and twenty-seven 
 cents. Here is a statement of the sales and purchases. 
 Here is their check for the amount attached and their 
 account." He hands her an envelope. 
 
 "You are pardoned! " remarks Evie. " Now, with 
 regard to my equipage. If I am to establish a car- 
 riage in Washington, I should also keep one at Narra- 
 gansett; otherwise it might excite comment." 
 
 "Aha! What a business woman you are. You have 
 a fine brain," replies Steinbergh. "What would you 
 say to a pretty little pony phaeton and pair of high- 
 steppers, with a nice little groom on the rumble, for 
 the seaside?" 
 
 <; Yes, a victoria also. I wish to do the thing prop- 
 erly." Then she adds: "And what do you expect for 
 all this?" 
 
 His answer surprises her. She had expected a direct 
 request for her aid. But the financier merely says : 
 "'Your friendship your influence. At a certain time 
 I shall make a certain investment for you. You know 
 enough to be aware that if a stock that you hold goes 
 up in the market, you make money. If a stock goes 
 down, you lose money. Some day in the future I shall 
 write to you that I have bought for your account and 
 risk so many shares." 
 
 " Hundreds ? " asks the lady anxiously.
 
 l6o HER SENATOR. 
 
 "No, THOUSANDS!" answers Mr. Steinbergh calmly, 
 " of a certain stock. You are bright enough to know 
 that if a certain bill passes Congress you will be rich. 
 But that if a certain bill does not pass Congress you'll 
 be poor. Act then, at your pleasure." 
 
 "You're very kind," murmurs Mrs. Montressor. 
 " You have always been good to me. You only now 
 ask me to help myself, that is all." 
 
 Then she adds : ' ' Please explain this matter a 
 little further. If I am to aid you, I must understand 
 the affair thoroughly. You say, if I hold the stock 
 and it goes up, I make money. But this stock has 
 gone down and I have made money, as well as I can 
 see by the accounts." 
 
 "Yes, you were again a bear, a naughty bear, one of 
 that kind of wicked people who sell things before they 
 buy them. You see, we are this is entirely a matter 
 of confidence we are compelled to force the stock to 
 sell down in order that a certain number of our law- 
 makers at a proper time can buy at low figures. Then, 
 of course, they will be anxious for their holdings to 
 rise in value, and will pass the proper bill to make 
 it go up! We are not bribing them they are 
 merely using some hints of ours to benefit their 
 pockets. '* 
 
 "Oh, I see," answers Mrs. Montressor; "Gelatine 
 stock will go down until Congress is in session and a 
 number of its members buy it." 
 
 "Yes, and after they have bought it we may give 
 them a little lesson, we may put it a little lower to 
 stimulate them to exert themselves to add to its finan- 
 cial value but this is confidential. On your honor 
 you will say no word of it to any one. You are the 
 only woman I would trust with such a secret. But we 
 are at the Waldorf. I will say adieu, as I may not see 
 you again soon."
 
 HER SENATOR. l6l 
 
 So he goes away with a pathetic look in his eyes, for 
 Steinbergh has given up something he has longed for 
 very much, and women seem more beautiful as you 
 know they are passing out of your life. 
 
 On going to her own room at the hotel, Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor inspects quite carefully the account of pur- 
 chases and sales that the financier has handed to her. 
 It is evident to her the stock was sold first and 
 purchased a few days later at lower figures. 
 
 "Ah! Gelatine is going down," she says. "They 
 are compelled to put it lower at least until Congress 
 meets." 
 
 That is a month or two anyway. Then suddenly her 
 bright eyes grow big with financial cunning. She thinks 
 ' ' Why should I not play bear also on my own account ?" 
 then cries "Aha! Mr. Steinbergh! I shall do for 
 
 myself what you did for me. I have " she looks at 
 
 the check that the magnate has given her which bears 
 the signature of a well-known stock broking firm, " the 
 wherewithal to go short of Gelatine myself." And she 
 laughs triumphantly, chuckling daintily at her fair self 
 in the mirror. "You will be rich soon, you naughty 
 lady bear speculator!" 
 
 Acting on this idea, the next morning Evie causes 
 herself to be driven to the up-town office of a promi- 
 nent firm of brokers and, depositing her check with 
 them, directs them to sell as much of the Gelatine 
 stock as they can for the money she nas; reasoning, 
 with greedy logic, " The more I sell, the more I make." 
 
 The gentleman in charge of their up-town office hes- 
 itates a little over this order, and advises her to sell in 
 reason, but finally, urged by her, agrees to short for 
 her account and risk three thousand shares of Gelatine 
 stock, if she will give him what is technically called a 
 "stop order" to close her out at three points up. This 
 she willingly does, and goes away laughing to herself;
 
 162 HER SENATOR. 
 
 " He doesn't know much. How can it go up when the 
 company are putting it down ?" 
 
 But she never whispers a word to any one of Mr. 
 Steinbergh's confidence; that, honor compels her to 
 lock in her own fair bosom. 
 
 Six hours later, Mrs. Montressor is once more at 
 Narragansett. Here, to her disappointment, she finds 
 no Senator. Mr. Guernsey has run over to Newport 
 at the invitation of his colleague, Mr. Chippie. 
 
 "He was very indignant," remarks the Senora, 
 "that you had gone to ^New York without saying 
 adios to him." 
 
 " Did you tell him I would return to-day? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, but he had business at Newport." 
 
 This is partly true and yet not altogether, as Mr. 
 Guernsey is in a huff and he doesn't return from New. 
 port for three or four days, which makes Evelyn con- 
 templative. 
 
 She would be more uneasy did she know that a 
 Newport widow with six unmarriageable daughters has 
 put eyes upon the Western senator, who has been 
 introduced to her by his colleague. This lady, Mrs. 
 Josselyn, is, as regards blood and family, a member of 
 the New York Four Hundred, as regards fortune 
 only a hanger on at its gayeties and fetes. She has 
 decided that Marjorie, her third unmarriageable 
 child, is to become the Honorable Mrs. Guernsey. She 
 has been in Newport angling for French Barons, 
 Italian Counts and a scion or two of the British nobility, 
 and having found them impossible without dots, has 
 then said proudly: "I will be an American mother. 
 My daughter shall marry one of her own noble country- 
 men, who care not to receive money with their brides." 
 
 In this view she has put her eyes upon the unfortu- 
 nate Guernsey, and, as he remarks to himself, is giv- 
 ing him more trouble than the reporters.
 
 HER SENATOR. l6j 
 
 Other things also would come in to the destruction 
 of Evie's plans, if Guernsey would permit them. But 
 it only takes a glance from her bright eyes to make 
 him forget Newport fashionables and the terrors of 
 the press. 
 
 But, just at this time, a financial accident 
 occurs to Mrs. Montressor that causes her to shed 
 some secret tears, but gives her an even firmer hold 
 on the affections of the Western man, whose great big 
 heart she has now got in both her tiny hands, giving 
 him arterial throbs whenever she pleases. 
 
 On his return from Newport, Guernsey had re- 
 proached her with going away without saying good- 
 bye to him. " That is the second time you have done 
 that, Miss," he says. " Once in Saratoga you slipped 
 away like a shadow in the night and now you flit again 
 from Narragansett, making me think the spring water 
 was no good in one place and the sea-bathing of no 
 account in the other. Now the next time you play 
 such a trick upon me, I'm going after you. " 
 
 "With such a threat, I shall run away to-morrow! " 
 cries Evie, laughingly. 
 
 "Don't make a joke of it," he mutters almost 
 pathetically. " You don't know how your slights hurt 
 me. Now I mean what I say, Sis! "he adds more 
 sternly, playfully assuming a fatherly manner and 
 taking her pretty ear between his thumb and fore- 
 finger. 
 
 It is his first approach to familiarity save when her 
 wrist looked so temptingly beautiful to him by Lake 
 Lonely, and he is rather anxious as to how she will 
 take it. 
 
 But Evie is very well up in games of this kind, and 
 though a delightful blush flies over her cheeks, she 
 merely gives him a demure courtesy and murmurs, 
 "Yes, sir!" which goes to his heart more than any.
 
 164 HER SENATOR. 
 
 thing she has done. For getting away from this inter* 
 view he smites his broad breast and mutters: ''Looks 
 up to me ! Yes, sir, looks right up to me and does what I 
 tell her! She explained the matter, too, very well. 
 She had business about some stocks she's interested 
 in Gelatine, I believe. I suppose she's quite com- 
 fortably fixed, too." 
 
 Mr. Guernsey has noticed a cute little pony phaeton 
 with a dapper little groom standing in front of Evie's 
 cottage, and has hoped to be asked to ride in it, but as 
 yet has not reached that felicity. 
 
 Two days after he calls and is informed that Mrs. 
 Montressor is too ill to see him. 
 
 "Too tin Great thunder, what's the matter with 
 her ? She looked deliciously well half an hour ago on 
 the veranda of the Casino." 
 
 "It's some awful news from some stealing stock- 
 brokers," remarks Sefiora de Oriva savagely. "She 
 has been beguiled, poor girl, into investing in that 
 robber of a Wall street. " 
 
 "Ask her if she won't see me. Ask her if I can 
 help her in any way," mutters the Senator. 
 
 But Evie will not see him. She sends him a cour- 
 teous message thanking him for his kind offer ; and 
 the next morning when he calls again he receives a 
 little note which reads as follows : 
 
 DEAR MR. GUERNSEY : Many, many thanks for your kindness, 
 but I suppose I have displeased you again. I have gone to 
 New York on business. I could not accept the pleasure of your 
 society on the trip. A moment's thought will tell you why. I 
 shall be back to-morrow morning. Until then an revoir. 
 Most gratefully, 
 
 EVELYN MONTRESSOR. 
 
 This makes the Senator scowl. He demands inter- 
 view with La Oriva, and questioning the duenna learns 
 that it is some investment in stocks, the Gelatine, she 
 thinks, that has robbed Evelyn of her wealth.
 
 HER SENATOR. 165 
 
 "Is it as bad as that?" falters Guernsey. And 
 getting hold of a paper for stock quotations are hard 
 to obtain at Narragansett he looks up the price of 
 Gelatine stock, and mutters : ' ' This is awfully curious. 
 I can't understand it. Darn me if it hasn't gone up 
 four points in the last two days." 
 
 And this is true. Evie's sickness had been brought 
 about by an awful note from her brokers which read as 
 follows: 
 
 DEAR MADAME : As the stock of the Gelatine Company has 
 advanced this day three per cent, over your selling price, accord- 
 ing to your written orders we have bought in for your account 
 three thousand shares of the same and hold to your credit the 
 sum of four hundred and seventeen dollars and seventeen cents, 
 which is at your order. 
 
 Any further commands we shall be most happy to execute on 
 receipt of sufficient margin for same. 
 
 Yours most respectfully, M. DE CASTILIO & Co. 
 
 It is with this horrible note in her pocket and an anx- 
 ious, pale, almost frightened face that Evie makes her 
 way into the private office of Mr. Steinbergh in Wall 
 Street. Her appearance is such that it really frightens 
 the jovial financier. 
 
 "Great Heavens! What has happened?" he says 
 hurriedly. 
 
 On this his fair client, though it hurts her pride woe- 
 fully, is compelled to make revelation of her specula- 
 tion on her own account. 
 
 "See the note those villains Castilio & Co. have 
 sent me," she mutters, and goes into so pathetic a re- 
 cital that Steinbergh, in spite of himself, laughs until 
 the tears roll down his cheeks. 
 
 "Ah, my pet lamb in Wall Street has been shorn," 
 he murmurs. "And what a greedy little lamb it was! 
 Sold three thousand. I wondered where that stock 
 came from. Besides, it inspired other short sellers to 
 such an extent that we were compelled to put the
 
 166 HER SENATOR. 
 
 market up on them. However, I think I can repair 
 the damage to your pocket, as I have most of your 
 money in my own bank account at the present moment, 
 barring a little lost from the friction of finance, com- 
 missions, etc. But you must not speculate. Promise 
 me that. Only speculate when I tell you to." 
 
 "Very well," mutters Evie, half sullenly, for his 
 merriment has a tinge of sarcasm that hurts her busi- 
 ness pride. " Work out my account for me. Here 'it 
 is." She hands him the statement of Castilio & Co. 
 
 " With pleasure," he says, " and furthermore I think 
 you had better provide your own equipages and select 
 your own apartments in Washington. Any effort of 
 mine in that way in your behalf might be misunder- 
 stood, if known. " 
 
 "Yes, that is much better, kind Mr. Steinbergh," 
 cries Evie. 
 
 Then she is very penitent, and promises to use every 
 influence to make the Gelatine stock go up, that he 
 will buy for her when the proper time comes, and goes 
 away much relieved. 
 
 She receives, however, much greater comfort a week 
 after this, when she gets a note from dear, good, kind 
 Castilio & Co., inclosing a statement of certain opera- 
 tions they have made at her order, and stating that a 
 balance of over fifteen thousand dollars is to her credit 
 with that well-known firm. 
 
 But Mr. Guernsey does not agree with Evie in her 
 ideas of Wall Street. On her return he has cursed stock- 
 brokers up and down and black and white, muttering: 
 " Been robbing you, eh ! Wait until I get at 'em in the 
 United States Senate," in away that has frightened her 
 for she wants her Senator to be very mild with the 
 Gelatine Trust the coming session.
 
 HER SENATOR. 1 67 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE AMBIGUOUS KISS. 
 
 BUT just about this time a certain yonng gentleman 
 of pale, romantic complexion, very dark eyes, very 
 white teeth, very short black hair and very long 
 mustachios, bearing the name of Gonzalo de Oriva, 
 makes his appearance upon the scene and Guernsey 
 forgets the god of money in the demon of jealousy. 
 
 This Gonzalo is a creature of freaks, sensations, and 
 sudden frenzies. He steps into Evelyn's life almost 
 m the theatrical manner of the modern drama, a mass 
 of impetuous passion and amatory fire-works. 
 
 It is a day of triumph at Narragansett ! The great 
 polo game between the Rockaways and Myopias is to 
 take place at the Country Club, and Newport is coming 
 over to take a look at it. Around the green turf of 
 the Polo field is gathered a mass of equipages, from 
 four-in-hand drag to donkey cart; all covered with 
 pretty women in chic summer toilettes, with para- 
 sols galore and flaunting ribbons and rustling laces 
 that gleam under the summer sun. 
 
 "The Newport swells are here in force, aren't they? 
 But they'll find the Pier up to date," says Billy Frost- 
 water to Mrs. Montressor, as he leans against the big 
 patent leather dashboard of her phaeton. " ' City-by- 
 the-Sea ' girls may be fin-de-sttcle^ but I'm hanged if 
 they're as pretty as our surf paddlers." And he eyes 
 critically Mrs. Josselyn, who has brought over her 
 third unmarriageable daughter, Marjorie, to make an- 
 other attempt on the heart of the Honorable Mr. 
 Guernse
 
 1 68 HER SENATOR. 
 
 These ladies are sitting in a nearby victoria, and the 
 Senator is just taking his hat off to them. 
 
 "Our Honorable friend seems to be quite chummy 
 with Newport," he goes on. "My, doesn't the girl 
 eye him! See how she blushes! Every pimple on her 
 face loves him. You don't know 'em, do you ? " 
 
 "No; I haven't sufficient fortune to swim in the 
 Newport pool," remarks Evie, perchance a little bit- 
 terly, though she controls herself quite well, knowing 
 that young Mr. Billy is intent on giving her a pang in 
 return for the many she has given him in the last 
 month or two, as she has refused that gentle- 
 man champagne t$te-a tttes in the tower; for young 
 Mr. Frostwater would like, as he expresses it to him- 
 self, "to make a mash on the widow" girls have 
 palled on his palate only she will not let him. 
 
 A few minutes after Mr. Guernsey, straying from 
 the side of the Newport victoria, strolls over to Eve- 
 lyn's pretty pony phaeton, to get a shock in his turn. 
 A short-haired, dark-eyed, white-toothed man is sit- 
 ting in the place that he considers his own, and is gaz- 
 ing romantically into the sapphire eyes of Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor. The next moment Evelyn begs to present 
 Seftor Gonzalo de Oriva to the Honorable Mr. Guern- 
 sey, mentioning the young man, who has a haughty yet 
 romantic air, as the son of her chaperone, who has just 
 returned from Cuba. 
 
 "Yes, with my life I escaped," murmurs the gentle- 
 man. " They would have liked my blood, for I am, 
 mark you, Seiior Scnador, a man whose heart the Queen 
 of Spain would delight to dine off." 
 
 "Is she so hungry as that, poor queen ?" remarks 
 the Senator, grimly. 
 
 " But I have escaped her teeth," continues Gonzalo, 
 whose thoughts are apparently only on himself, "to be 
 the victim of another lady, at whose service my heart
 
 HER SENATOR. ffy 
 
 is. " And he places his hand upon his breast and bows 
 down before Evelyn, who deigns to blush becomingly 
 under the young Spanish gentleman's impassioned 
 glances. 
 
 But he gives no chance for answer, crying: "Ah! 
 they are running after the ball again. Caramba ! that 
 was a stroke worthy of a caballero;" then mutters 
 savagely: "Cut their hearts out! Down with them, 
 the accursed Blues ! Ah, one of the ladroncs is killed, 
 his horse has rolled on him. Slay him before he rises! " 
 
 With this Gonzalo makes his way excitedly toward a 
 portion of the field where an unfortunate Rockaway 
 man has come to grief on account of his pony falling. 
 
 "What's the matter with him ?" asks the Senator 
 grimly. "Is he crazy ? " 
 
 "No," laughs Evelyn, "only I am wearing the 
 Myopia colors and Senor Gonzalo thinks it his duty to 
 wish the opposing Rockaways death. I had no idea 
 he was so impassioned or I should not have asked him 
 to come with me," murmurs the lady, bushing vividly 
 as she remembers some of the Spaniard's raptures dur- 
 ing tete-b-tete drive in the widow's phaeton. 
 
 "You you drove him over?" says Guernsey in 
 
 austere voice. 
 
 "Yes, why not ? I had to have a gallant, and you 
 were not available. You came here with Mrs. Josselyn 
 and daughter. Ah, the aristocratic Mr. Chippie has 
 introduced you to Newport blue blood." 
 
 "Not to your disadvantage, madame, by Heaven ! " 
 mutters the Solon, for the widow has emphasized her 
 plaint with a veiled glance that makes the statesman's 
 heart feel very young. 
 
 But romance gives way to the sports of the chase, 
 as Evie is laughing until the tears are ^n her eyes, and 
 crying : '' See Johnson's dog! " 
 
 For a yellow-haired Irish terrier, to the rage of th"
 
 170 HER SENATOR. 
 
 polo teams, is making a raid upon the ball almost under 
 the feet of the ponies. " Look! Bobby Scott is mak- 
 ing for him," shrieks Evie. "If that young centaur 
 gets a crack at Johnson's pup, he will never appear in 
 the dog show again." 
 
 But Johnson's dog scurries wildly from the avenging 
 polo mallet of Mr. Scott, of the Myopias, and takes 
 refuge in the crowd, where his master does not appear 
 to own him. 
 
 From this episode the Cuban returns to the fair 
 widow's side, remarking: "If I could have caught 
 the cur, I would have presented Senor Scott with 
 his heart this afternoon at the Casino. He wears 
 your colors. He rides like a vaquero. He cares no 
 more for his horse than a toreador." Then Gonzalo 
 turns to the statesman, and, with an affable wave of his 
 hand, remarks : ' ' Your ladies are looking anxiously for 
 you, Senor Senador. See ! the senorita with the white 
 parasol and spotted face waves her hand unto you." 
 
 As this is unfortunately true, Guernsey takes his 
 way from the widow's phaeton toward the Newport 
 equipage and Mrs. Josselyn and her third unmar- 
 riageable daughter Marjorie, whose vivid summer 
 freckles Senor Gonzalo has, in his limited knowledge 
 of English, designated as "spots." 
 
 With this, coolly seating himself by the widow's side 
 in her phaeton, Senor de Oriva goes into a tropic 
 frenzy, and looking at her beautiful eyes and exquisite 
 figure, is very full of Romeo antics. 
 
 As they drive home, he gazes at her and makes his 
 big eyes look like coals of fire. She shudders, for she 
 is growing somewhat frightened of him, as he mutters: 
 "To-day for the first time, I LIVE!" 
 
 "A baby one day old?" giggles Mrs. Montressor 
 nervously. Her laugh is almost echoed by her groom 
 Sammy in the rumble behind, who is strutting to keep
 
 HER SENATOR. 17 1 
 
 the straight face of a flunkey. What must not these 
 poor creatures suffer who have witty masters? 
 
 " One day old, but not a baby. One day old! One 
 day of love! A baby this morning, a man to-night! 
 Perhaps a corpse to-morrow morning. No telling." 
 Then he mutters in Spanish pathos: "You must be 
 kind to your poor Gonzalo. Were he to die his mother's 
 heart would break." 
 
 But Evelyn has made up her mind to at least curb 
 Gonzalo's tongue if she cannot control his eyes, and 
 takes this opportunity, saying merrily: "I hope you 
 will kill yourself." 
 
 " Dios! You command me to suicide?" 
 
 " Yes. I have never had a man kill himself for me 
 yet. I would like to discover how it feels. I think I 
 could bear your loss perhaps better than I could that of 
 others." 
 
 "Santos! There are others!" he hisses, next mutters 
 sardonically, "Diablo ! You wish me to commit suicide. 
 Then I shall not do eet. Your manner, your indiffer- 
 ence, your cold heart tells me I have a rival. " Here he 
 grinds his teeth together. "It ees him I will slay! 
 Ah, you are afraid. But I would not hurt you. Not 
 one hair of gold, not one tress will Gonzalo touch, save 
 to kees and to caress." 
 
 " You will not even do it for that purpose," mutters 
 Mrs. Montressor, checking her horses suddenly at the 
 gate of her cottage garden, and, springing out, she 
 runs into the house, leaving Sefior Gonzalo alone with 
 dapper little Sammy, who has sprung to the horses' 
 heads. 
 
 " Muchacho!" remarks the Cuban, sternly; but get- 
 ting no response to this, he cries out, savagely, ' ' BOY ! " 
 
 "Yes, sir," replies Sammy, touching his hat and 
 holding out his hand for a quarter, which he does not 
 get; for Sefior Gonzalo remarks, in deepest tones "Boy,
 
 172 HER SENATOR. 
 
 if you utter a word of what I told the beautiful lady in 
 the carriage, I will cut your heart out. Do you under- 
 stand? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," says Sammy and touches his hat. And 
 as he drives back to the stable the horses half determine 
 on a bolt, for they feel that little Sammy's hold on their 
 bits is very weak, nervous, and trembling. 
 
 These and similar Romeo antics of the Cuban make 
 Guernsey's life one of anxiety at Narragansett. The 
 season is drawing to its close, he is compelled to leave 
 for the West on urgent personal business, but still he 
 lingers by the sea. " I can't bear to leave her a prey to 
 this cursed foreign adventurer," he thinks; and yet he 
 cannot bring himself to take decisive action, reasoning : 
 " If I fire this Cuban out, may I not fire myself //" 
 
 As for Evie she doesn't wish the Senator to take 
 decided action either, not until Congress is in session 
 and the Gelatine bill has been passed, and she pursues 
 the game of waiting very warily, playing her fish with 
 the ease of a feminine Isaac Walton, sometimes draw- 
 ing her prey toward her as if she meant to land him, 
 next letting him have his head and run away with the 
 line and sulk under the shade of the green bushes that 
 line love's stream. 
 
 But strategy is brought to a sudden close by the 
 action of the fiery Gonzalo. 
 
 They are all three sitting on the porch of the cottage 
 one evening. The Senator has been hinting that he 
 has to go West. 
 
 "Pshaw!" laughs Evie, "you've been saying that 
 for a week or two. " 
 
 " Yes, it has seemed to me you have been going for 
 a very long time," remarks the Cuban. " Day by day I 
 have expected to have the honor of bidding you adios. " 
 
 "Young man," replies Guernsey, "that needn't 
 keep you here in Narragansett."
 
 HER SENATOR. 173 
 
 " Santos, I know what you are staying for!" returns 
 Gonzalo, "and it is not surf bathing." Then he 
 breaks out: "But I don't blame you. I ea* my 
 heart out also ! There is a so cruel, but a so beautiful, 
 woman, who demands the love of all men the lady of 
 the smiling face and the blue, blue eyes! O, Dios 
 tnio ! When I think, I would have been happier if the 
 Queen of Spain had eaten my heart!" 
 
 "Why don't you go over and give it to her 
 Majesty?" remarks Guernsey. "According to you 
 she's been waiting for the meal for a long time." 
 
 ' ' Por Dios ! But not till I have spoken once more. 
 I have tried the language of the eyes, but she will not 
 understand. If you were like me, a man of grand 
 sentiment, not the hard-headed Americano that you 
 are, Seftor, you would speak also. Some day I will 
 demand which of us ! Some day I will say, ' If you go 
 riding with him, I ride with you no more.' " 
 
 "Will you give me a drive in your pony phaeton to- 
 morrow, Mrs. Montressor ? " remarks the Senator sud- 
 denly almost desperately. 
 
 "With pleasure!" replies Evie, then bursts into 
 a subdued snicker, for, with a groan of anguish, Gon- 
 zalo has suddenly sprung to his feet, looked at her 
 with wild eyes, and muttering, " You stab me to the 
 heart ! " rushed down the path, thrown open the gate, 
 and disappeared in the direction of his hotel. 
 
 "I'll call for you to-morrow afternoon early," says 
 the Senator, a lump in his throat, for he fears the 
 Rubicon has been passed. Then he adds ardently: 
 "You'll you'll give me a long drive, won't you? 
 I'm I'm going away very, very soon." 
 
 ' ' Will from three to six be enough for you ? " remarks 
 Mrs. Montressor, a little nervously, for she fears the 
 ride as well as the Senator. 
 
 "Yes," he replies, then mutters: "You are very
 
 174 HER SENATOR. 
 
 good," and suddenly the fair wrist feels masculine 
 mustache upon it, as he goes away, leaving Evie 
 anxious and agitated. 
 
 During the night she thinks the matter over. 
 " What does he mean to say to me? Does he ?" 
 she cries, then murmurs faintly: " Does he mean ? 
 Pshaw! I can prevent his speaking until after the bill !" 
 Then jeers herself: " Is this your firmness, is this your 
 resolve, you who said you would be his Cleopatra ? " 
 A moment after she mutters : " I I will make him talk 
 of that ineffable villain, his father. When he gets to 
 prattling of the good deeds of that man who robbed me 
 of my sister it always makes me hate him. Then I can 
 play my game beautifully superbly, as Aspasia flaunted 
 it with Pericles." 
 
 And the next day she does play her game beautifully 
 superbly. 
 
 When Mr. Guernsey strolls up to the cottage on that 
 bright September afternoon, he sees her pony phaaeton 
 standing in front of it. At the horses' heads is the 
 natty little groom who has for the last month essayed 
 the part of Evie's chaperon on several tete-&-t$te 
 drives with the Senator. 
 
 Looking on him the statesman cogitates grimly: 
 "Wouldn't I like to leave you behind ? " 
 
 A moment after the sight of his charmer, as she comes 
 out upon her veranda to meet him, drives all else from 
 his thoughts ; and Evie is worthy of his full considera- 
 tion, for this day she has made up her mind to charm. 
 
 "I will at least leave a recollection in his heart," 
 she has thought, and her toilet is one to dream of to 
 swear by. White, her favorite color, robes her from 
 her marble neck to her dainty feet, save at the waist 
 and bosom; the first being surrounded by a broad 
 sheeny scarf of daintiest pink, the second adorned 
 with fresh, dewy blush roses,
 
 HER SENATOR. 175 
 
 Besides, there is a good deal of color in her cheeks 
 as the Senator, possessing himself of her hand, whispers : 
 " I must take care of you you're very thoughtless." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " You're going out for a drive in slippers! Suppose 
 we get a fog? Since you won't take care of yourself, 
 I will look after you. Trip up-stairs again and put 
 on boots. " 
 
 " Pshaw ! these slippers match my costume ; besides, 
 I didn't suppose you would look at them," she demurs 
 archly. 
 
 " Not look at those little feet ? I have an eye for 
 beauty, madame," he laughs. Then affecting stern- 
 ness, he commands, "Trot up-stairs, Miss! Skip! 
 Fly ! " 
 
 Here Evie astonishes him by flying, for she generally 
 has had her own dainty way. 
 
 Two minutes after she comes back and remarks 
 demurely : " How does this suit you ? " as she coquet- 
 tishly pokes out an exquisite foot and dainty ankle 
 hosed and booted in white to perfection, then looks 
 into his face with great big eyes and murmurs : 
 "Tyrant ! " a word that always goes to the masculine 
 heart, for it indicates dominion that they love. 
 
 And he, looking down at her, thinks: " The darling ! 
 If she obeys me she must " 
 
 He does not complete the thought, its rapture 
 chokes him. 
 
 Two minutes after they are seated in the carriage, 
 the little groom jumping on to the rumble behind, as 
 Evie asks, "Where?" 
 
 " How would Worden's Pond suit you ? " 
 
 " First rate, if the ponies don't object." 
 
 So Evie whips up her horses, and they are 
 soon flying along the Wakefield road, which, like most 
 other Narragansett drives, is one of the best upojr*
 
 176 HER SENATOR. 
 
 earth, especially after a slight shower, which makes its 
 gravel and sand a perfect roadbed. 
 
 Thus they journey on through Wakefield, leaving 
 pretty Peacedale to their right, and a few minutes 
 after, turning from the direct road to Matunac, pass 
 along a narrow and rather sandy country lane between 
 green hedges and copses, then on through grassy fields, 
 till at length they reach a point giving them glance of 
 beautiful Worden's Pond, the biggest lake near Narra- 
 gansett, and one that compares in beauty of scenery 
 and exquisite shadow effects even with the clear, cold 
 meres of the Berkshires. 
 
 Here Evie checks the horses, and as they look upon 
 the view Guernsey remarks: " Do you know I once 
 thought of giving a picnic in your honor here? But 
 you ran away to New York, so I gave up the affair. 
 I had already selected the ground. Would you like to 
 walk down and see it ? It's a spot that's a hummer 
 for romance." 
 
 He says this last appealingly, but with determination. 
 
 " Yes! " murmurs Evelyn, growing pale for a minute, 
 then blushing to her eyes, for she knows the time 
 has come. 
 
 At her word, he assists her from the carriage, and, 
 pulling down some bars for her, they enter a green field. 
 A cow or two grazing within it look curiously at them, 
 wondering why these visitors are here, for it is a lonely 
 yet beautiful spot. 
 
 Two hundred yards farther on, they come to a stone 
 fence that separates them from the wooded paddock 
 leading down to the lake. The gate of this is locked 
 
 " Do you mind a little climb ? " he whispers. 
 
 "Not not very much," falters the lady, looking 
 with anxiety at her imported toilet. 
 
 " I I won't ruffle a feather in it," remarks Guern- 
 sey, confidently.
 
 HER SENATOR. 177 
 
 The next moment he astonishes her, for with the 
 agility of the plains he springs upon the stone wall, 
 which is not a very high one, and stooping down lifts 
 her up and swings her over with the ease and precision 
 of iron muscle and well-trained biceps. 
 
 "I I didn't know you were so strong," she mur- 
 murs, looking at him, a strange admiration in her eyes. 
 
 "You see out West a man leads a pretty rough-and- 
 tumble life and has to know how to handle himself," he 
 answers; then chuckles, "besides, I don't believe you 
 weigh over half a ton." 
 
 "No, I don't," she says, laughingly. " A hundred 
 and forty-five pounds isn't half a ton." 
 
 Then together they stroll down to the shores of 
 Worden's Pond; not quite to its edge, however, for 
 the ground is slightly swampy. 
 
 Sitting down under a tree they gaze out over its 
 surface that reflects the shadows of the clouds in the 
 distance, and nearer to them is ornamented by masses 
 of pond lilies, whose summer flowers have long since 
 died, but whose green leaves look cool and refreshing 
 as they float upon the water. This they both gaze at, 
 until silence becomes impressive. 
 
 Then the Senator, who has apparently something 
 on his mind, says suddenly: " You like the view ?" 
 
 "Oh, very much! " she murmurs, enthusiastically. 
 
 "I am glad you do, but that isn't why I brought 
 you here." 
 
 " No ? " And blue eyes open in pretense of aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 " No! I wanted to be away from the long ears of 
 your bottle green groom." Then he goes on very 
 earnestly, almost a tremble in his strong voice: "I 
 leave for the West this evening. I have to take my 
 sister, who has returned from Europe, back to Silver- 
 opolis, and I have a few things to tell you. "
 
 178 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "What what are they?" queries the lady, tapping 
 her pretty white boot with the end of her parasol. 
 
 " I am going away for months. I am compelled to 
 put my business interests in such shape that I can 
 leave them, devoting my whole time to my senatorial 
 duties during the session of Congress, and, when I 
 come back, I want to find you just the same girl as 
 when I leave you. Will you promise that ?" 
 
 He is looking at her, so full of admiration, so full 
 perhaps of passion, that her eyes droop under his gaze, 
 and her face for a moment grows very pale, then sud- 
 denly blushing as a rose. She does not answer him ; 
 she merely taps her boot with the ferrule of her 
 parasol. 
 
 "You see," he goes on, "wild mustangs couldn't 
 drive me from you, but I have a duty. I have to settle 
 up the estate of my father who was the most noble and 
 generous man the earth has covered. " He sighs here. 
 ' He left my sister half of his estate." 
 
 "That was whole-hearted in him, exceedingly, ' re- 
 marks the lady, sarcastically. 
 
 "It was, for she has no claim of blood upon him. 
 She is simply my adopted sister, but I love her, and 
 want to do something more than my duty in seeing that 
 her property comes to her in a little better shape and 
 a little more gilt-edged than even my father expected." 
 
 ' ' What a good man your father must have been?" 
 exclaims Evelyn, and her eyes blaze up, indignation in 
 them. Then, not trusting herself, she rises hastily and 
 walks away. 
 
 "Why, Great Scott! you are not jealous of of my 
 sister! " cries Guernsey, running after her. 
 
 "Jealous? I! What right have I to be jealous?" 
 Here she forces herself to calmness and turning to him 
 says: " J 11 give you my answer to your rather curious 
 proposition this evening, before you go. "
 
 HER SENATOR. 179 
 
 "You are not mad ?" falters Guernsey. 
 
 " Mad ? Oh, no," and Evie walks ahead of him, for 
 the mention of his father has set her blood boiling 
 and she thinks: "If I speak to him now I shall 
 tell him what an accursed scoundrel his sainted parent 
 was, and that will spoil my plan for his destruction and 
 my triumph. He must be bad. He has his father's blood. 
 No man could call such a man as his father good and 
 not be a villain himself, a hypocrite also." 
 
 Therefore she speeds ahead of him, careless of his 
 warning, "Look out, Sis, you'll splash those nice white 
 shoes in the bog!" 
 
 But this recklessness, perchance, only makes her 
 more alluring, for she is a very dazzling sight as she 
 runs along ahead of the Western senator, holding up 
 dainty white skirts from beneath which flash out the 
 two prettiest feet and ankles in Narragansett in ball- 
 room hosiery and summer flirtation boots. 
 
 Finally the stone wall stops her and she turns about, 
 a mass of laughter, blushes, and confusion. Ah ! what 
 an actress she is! 
 
 Here Guernsey, overtaking her, says: "You little 
 runaway colt you, do you know you're as pretty as 
 and tantalizing as " 
 
 "As what?" 
 
 "As yourself." With this the athlete of the plains 
 springs on the stone fence and swings her over again, 
 giving her waist a squeeze that makes her utter a faint 
 shriek of bashful astonishment; for Guernsey had 
 never permitted himself such liberty before, but some- 
 how he has grown bolder now. 
 
 "Have another race for the next fence ?" cries Evie 
 laughingly, for she has an idea that perchance this 
 gentleman may heap Ossa on Pelion and supplement 
 the squeeze with a kiss. Therefore, she dashes with 
 fairy feet towards the road upon which stands her
 
 180 HEJR. SENATOR. 
 
 argus-eyed little groom, to whose protection she is 
 flying, pursued by the statesman, who gazes admir- 
 ingly, as he runs, upon this fair-haired, blue-eyed 
 Atalanta. 
 
 Then they drive very comfortably back to Nar- 
 ragansett, and though Mr. Guernsey would broach the 
 subject once more, Evie puts him aside always with 
 these words: "Wait until you bid me good-bye this 
 evening." 
 
 At the gate she says: " Don't come in give me an 
 hour or two to think. You leave at half-past eight to- 
 night. Come to me at eight o'clock ; then I will give 
 you one-quarter of an hour. Until then, au revoir." 
 
 "So long!" remarks Guernsey, and goes away; but 
 at Sherry's Casino, when they place the finest of din- 
 ners before him he has no appetite. He drinks, how- 
 ever, a pint of champagne, which is something unusual 
 for a senator from a prohibition State. 
 
 As for the lady, she does think ! She has been 
 astonished at Guernsey's reference to his sister by 
 adoption, but she is not jealous of her. She mutters 
 sneeringly to herself: "Jealous of him! Jealousy 
 means love, and I have only hate yes, that 's what I 
 do, / hate him ! When he talks of his good father and 
 this adopted sister, I cry, ' Where is my sister ? ' " A 
 moment after she jeers. " We have both been going it 
 blind as to family! " 
 
 And this is true; Mrs. Montressor has not dared 
 to ask about the Senator's domestic ties, lest her ques- 
 tions may provoke his queries, for she divines that 
 Claude, the ex-husband, would be an unpleasant revela- 
 tion to him. 
 
 Then suddenly she falters: "What does he mean 
 to ask me, when he comes back from the West?" and 
 growing pale, trembles and blushes. 
 
 But that evening she is ready with her answer.
 
 HER SENATOR. l8l 
 
 They are alone together, for Senora de Oriva is 
 busied with household duties. Evelyn, sitting in the 
 shadow of the porch, whispers to him: "I will do 
 what you wish. Listen to me. I shall go to a retired 
 country place in Vermont. I need rest after the trou- 
 bles of a summer campaign and the anxieties of a de- 
 clining fortune. In that view it will suit me to econo- 
 mize, for my Gelatine stock is is going down." This 
 last very pathetically. Then she continues: " I shall 
 spend the winter in Washington. If you call upon me 
 there, you will find me just the same girl as you left 
 behind you, save that I shall be two months older 
 and two months less attractive." 
 
 " Thank God! " mutters the Senator. 
 
 " What, for being two months older and two months 
 less attractive ? " 
 
 "No, no; thank God, I shall find you just the same 
 little girl. " 
 
 And now Evelyn plays a trump card. 
 
 "Remember, after this," she falters, blushingly, " I 
 I shall have a right to be jealous. " 
 
 " And so have I," he answers sharply, then goes on 
 severely: " How about that cussed Cuban?" 
 
 "Oh, I have arranged for him. He has received a 
 telegram and gone to boil gelatine in one of Mr. Stein- 
 bergh's great factories." 
 
 " And Mr. Steinbergh?" This is hitting very close. 
 
 "What of him?" 
 
 "Well, I'm not as much afraid of the Cuban as I am 
 of Mr. Steinbergh." 
 
 " Pooh ! that is nothing That gentleman has merely 
 acted in a fiduciary capacity for me in my investments. 
 Besides, if you wish, I will not see Mr. Steinbergh 
 again until you return. " 
 
 " Thank God for that," replies the Westerner. Then 
 be astonishes her, this man who has been at times so
 
 282 HER SENATOR. 
 
 diffident, for he steps to her and taking audacious ciasp 
 of her white arm, leads her into the parlor. A subdued 
 light from a lamp partly illuminates the room. They 
 are alone. 
 
 " Stand in front of me! " he commands. 
 
 "Yes, sir," says Evie playfully, courtesying to him. 
 
 Then comes the sensation ! He takes her beautiful 
 face between his firm hands, and bending down makes 
 her entrancing lips his own in the strong kiss of domi- 
 nant manhood; then mutters huskily "I put this kiss on 
 your lips when I go away. Let me have the same one 
 back when I return ! " 
 
 " O-o-o-h ! " falters the lady, and sinks down a beauti- 
 ful mass of exquisite blushes and bashful confusion as 
 Guernsey, striding down the path, mutters to himself: 
 "I'm boss of that cottage!" then sighs: "Great 
 Scott! Two months I shan't see her for two 
 months! " 
 
 Ten minutes after he gets a sensation himself! He 
 is seated by the open car window just as the engine is 
 ready to draw him away from Narragansett. Even as 
 the train starts, through the open window into his lap 
 is flung a bunch of sweet smelling posies, and he hears 
 Evie's voice say coquettishly: "Good-bye, Mr. Ty- 
 rant!" 
 
 Then Guernsey, as he rides away from her feels 
 happier than if he was sure of being the dark horse 
 for the Presidential nomination.
 
 HER SENATOR. 183 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 THE CAMPAIGN IN WASHINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER xv. 
 
 MRS. MONTRESSOR'S DINNER PARTY. 
 
 IT is the early winter. 
 
 Congress has been talking for a month ! Washing- 
 ton is seething under the revenue and tariff bill! 
 
 The corridors of the great hotels are full of it, as it 
 is discussed by manufacturers and merchants whom it 
 may make rich or poor in its changing schedules of 
 duties. 
 
 The Capitol is crowded; the Upper and Lower 
 Houses are full of legislators, each intent upon getting 
 his finger in the financial pie. The committee rooms of 
 the Senate and the House are besieged by seekers 
 after office, pension agents pressing special claims, 
 representatives of the great iron firms after govern- 
 ment contracts and appropriations, and the lobbies of 
 the magnificent building are thronged by politicians 
 from everywhere, each for himself, first, last and for- 
 ever; their parties second, their country nowhere in 
 the race for wealth and preferment, in which states- 
 manship is forgotten, and even truth, justice, and per- 
 sonal honor are as naught to the almighty dollar, 
 which reigns supreme b^^^ath the great dome from
 
 I&4 HER SENATOR. 
 
 which the statue of Freedom gazes on the struggle for 
 power and pelf. 
 
 From out this melange of things inimical to honest 
 legislation, the Honorable James B. Guernsey, fresh 
 from his oath of office, comes striding up Connecticut 
 avenue, and is ushered by a darkey page into Mrs. 
 Montressor's pretty apartment in Washington. 
 
 This is charmingly located, near enough to the 
 Dupont circle to be fashionable and not too far from 
 the principal hotels to be easily accessible to sojourners 
 in the national capital. 
 
 As the servitor takes his card to the mistress of the 
 domicile, Mr. Guernsey looks about and murmurs to 
 himself: "By Ginger, if my eyes see straight, this is 
 luxury." 
 
 And his eyes do see very straight; for Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor's flat is not only spacious, but elegant in its fit- 
 tings, luxurious in its furniture and charming in its 
 bric-a-brac and pictures. 
 
 The very handsome drawing-room, in which the gen- 
 tleman from the West stands, opens by folding doors 
 into a dining-room just large enough for a cozy dinner 
 party. Out of the parlor on the other side, its entrance 
 half hid by graceful satin draperies, is the pretty little 
 room Evie calls her boudoir, which communicates di- 
 rectly with her own private apartment. All these open 
 upon a very handsome and spacious hallway, and are 
 charmingly lighted by windows looking out upon one 
 of the great avenues of Washington, which is now in 
 the height of its political season, though its social one 
 is hardly so far advanced. 
 
 Looking at its satin draperies, its gilded furniture, 
 its Sevres, bric-a-brac, and the pretty paintings on 
 its walls, some of them apparently signed by well- 
 known artists and all of them forgeries Mr. Guern- 
 sey emits a prolonged whistle, and, turning his
 
 HER SENATOR. 185 
 
 in the direction of a bronze bust of Danie! Webster 
 that gazes at him from its oynx pedestal, he remarks 
 confidentially to the dead statesman's image: "This 
 must cost money, Dan ! " 
 
 He is correct in this also, for Evie has determined, 
 upon this Washington campaign, that she will play her 
 hand boldly, grandly! and has squandered the fifteen 
 thousand dollars made for her in stocks with the prodi- 
 gality of a gamester hazarding all on a last grand coup ! 
 What matters it if the wine bill is high, if she wins, 
 the table is heaped with gold. 
 
 With this idea she has set up a very smart little 
 equipage with stylish driver, but does not sport a footman 
 on her brougham, judging it would make her too con- 
 spicuous in the national capital, where this convenient 
 luxury is not so common as in sumptuous New York. 
 
 Even as the Senator inspects the cage of this dainty 
 bird, he hears a little cry, he thinks of joy, and a mo- 
 ment after Evie's radiant face is put through the por- 
 tie>es of her boudoir, and she cries to him : ' ' Wanderer, 
 come in! " 
 
 The next second Guernsey is in her sanctum, a:i ex- 
 quisite little place with a general blue effect in its dra- 
 peries and furniture, brightened by a ceiling decorated 
 with arch Cupids and love-sick goddesses, who seem 
 to be engaged in a flowery dance. 
 
 ' ' You see, I don't make company of you, " she whispers 
 demurely, glancing at a teagown which becomes her 
 very prettily. 
 
 "Thank God you don't!" he mutters, looking at 
 her, then steps to her, and asks, almost solemnly: 
 "Where's the kiss I gave you to keep for me ?" 
 
 But, with airy lightness, she has flown to refuge be- 
 hind a chair, and, gazing at him from its satin 
 upholstery, murmurs riantly: "I lost it; it isn't 
 here," touching her fair lips,
 
 186 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "Great Goliah! Not there?" he falters through 
 trembling lips, and his strong face twitches; but, be- 
 fore he suffers too much, she laughs: " Flora stole it, 
 up in Vermont." 
 
 "Flora? She doesn't count!" cries the Senator. 
 "You little minx, how dare you joke with my 
 feelings ?" 
 
 A wave of joyous relief flies over him, and, before 
 his temptress can dodge, he has sprung to her side, 
 and, with vigorous ardor and great empressemcnt, taken 
 her pretty face in his hands, looked into her blue eyes, 
 which answer him frankly, and taken back from the 
 sweet, red lips the kiss he had placed upon them in 
 Narragansett. This he does with a solemnity that 
 would make Evie laugh, did not nervousness overcome 
 risibility; his kiss was so strong, his arms so masterful. 
 
 Then she gives an affrighted " Oh, Heavens ! " for 
 Doc. Guernsey drops into a convenient chair, and with 
 one athletic whisk Evelyn suddenly finds herself seated 
 like a school girl on his knee, while he is saying: 
 "Now, sissy, tell me all about it. What have you 
 done since I've been away ? " 
 
 But blushing astonishment and bashful confusion 
 overcome her. She hides her face from his earnest 
 eyes, pouts deliciously, and makes one or two ineffec- 
 tual struggles to leave her childish position. But his 
 arm about her waist is too strong and he stays her by 
 remarking dominantly, even severely: " Stay quiet ! " 
 
 Finding struggles unavailing, Mrs. Montressor turns 
 to her captor, and opening her blue eyes, murmurs: 
 "How dare you catechise me? I should catechise 
 you. Three months away and not a line, a word, a 
 telegram. ' 
 
 "No, I was busy. You see I was worried. I had a 
 troublesome lawsuit on my hands about some land my 
 noble father left to The Orphans' home in Silveropolis
 
 HER SENATOR. 187 
 
 what makes you so savage ? " he adds suddenly, for 
 at the mention of his father Evelyn has become rest- 
 ive again and her face angry and excited. 
 
 " You you never sent me a word," pouts the lady, 
 finding easy and complimentary excuse for temper. 
 
 Thereupon Mr. Guernsey gives her some of the 
 many excuses of men who hate to write, but would like 
 to be written to. Then he adds reproachfully: " Why 
 didn't you send me a line ? You had my address, I 
 didn't have yours. Were you in Vermont ? " 
 
 "Yes, near Brattleboro. I I was saving up so I 
 could come here for the winter." 
 
 "Any visitors ?" 
 
 "Flora." 
 
 " Any gentlemen visitors ? That cursed Hidalgo, 
 for instance ? " 
 
 "None whatever, though I wrote Mr. Steinbergh." 
 
 "Aha!" 
 
 "Only once, about my stocks that are still going 
 down down," she murmurs, plaintively ; then goes 
 on more vivaciously: "And now, since I have said my 
 catechism like a good girl, permit me to escape. 
 Please Pythagoras will see you." 
 
 " Pythagoras ? Who in the deuce is he ?" 
 
 "My crispy- haired darkey page. Besides, if my 
 butler came in he perhaps wouldn't understand that 
 you are ' papa Guernsey.' " 
 
 "I'm hanged if I am ' papa Guernsey,' " mutters the 
 Senator, making awry face. Then he says: "You'd 
 better call me Jim." 
 
 ' ' En tete-a-tete, " murmurs the lady, archly. Then she 
 stammers, blushingly: "You you can call me Evie 
 when we're alone. Don't forget only when we're 
 alone." 
 
 "All right, sissy, " remarks the Solon, complacently. 
 Then he says, rapture in his voice: "Why you look
 
 1 88 HER SENATOR. 
 
 just as young as a schoolgirl. A naughty child who 
 is taken on the knee to be lectured. " 
 
 "No doubt, I feel rebellious," laughs Evie. "Yes, 
 and savage, too. Not one little letter! Bear 
 wicked, grizzly bear I will pull your whiskers!" 
 And she seizes, in two soft white hands, Guernsey's 
 long mustache and gives it some infantile but vivacious 
 tugs, as she kicks her two pretty little pink slippers 
 about, that frisk under the laces of her teagown, giving 
 delicious glimpses of openwork hosiery, and altogether 
 making a very charming portrayal of innocent, vigor- 
 ous, romping, naughty, spoilt little girlhood. 
 
 Upon this the Senator gazes admiringly, guffawing: 
 "Cute baby! Was it savage with its chick-a-biddy? 
 It shall have the kiss of peace." 
 
 But Evie suddenly dodging the kiss of peace, springs 
 up crying, with clapping hands: "I forgot! You must 
 go away! My dinner party! My dinner party! " 
 
 "Dinner paity ?" 
 
 "Yes, I shall now state that it is in your honor. I 
 have made quite a hit here socially. We're in the 
 swim," she laughs, then goes on more quietly: " Con- 
 gress has been in session a month and you have been 
 away. I was not surprised at your forgetting me, but 
 I was astonished at your neglecting the interests of your 
 country, Mr. Senator!" This last with attempted sever- 
 ity. 
 
 "Oh, the Senate hasn't done anything while I have 
 been out of my seat." 
 
 " No, " she replies, "that's the trouble. The country 
 is crying out for it to do something, but it only talks, 
 talks, TALKS! You know, I'm going to be your polit- 
 ical mentor; I'm going to teach you what the country 
 wishes you to do, then you'll do it like a good boy, 
 won't you, Jimmie ?" 
 
 This 'Jimmie' is said so easily, that Guernsey
 
 HER SENATOR. 189 
 
 astutely reasons : ' ' Goliath ! she must have been think- 
 ing of me by that name for a good while ! " And it 
 gives him such a thrill of rapture, that instead of telling 
 her, as he might have done, that he would shape his 
 own political course, he says brightly: "We'll see 
 about that, miss," then laughs. " I shall take counsel 
 with our great Daniel I see you've got him here to 
 remind me of my duties." 
 
 "Oh, yes!" she says airily, "make Dan'l your 
 mentor I own Dan'l!" 
 
 This remark is scarcely a happy one. It suggests 
 property rights in the present senator as well as the dead 
 one. Noting this in Guernsey's face, Evie breaks in 
 suddenly: 
 
 "Now for my dinner party. Three of your con- 
 frlrcs of the upper House are to be present Mr. 
 Raleigh, Mr. Chippie, and Mr. Bostwick. " 
 
 " Great Scott! is the aristocratic Chippie coming ?" 
 murmurs Guernsey, astonished and perchance some- 
 what impressed. 
 
 "Oh, yes, he drops in often, but Mrs. Chippie hasn't 
 called yet; that will come in time. Besides, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Sloville, of the lower House, Madame de 
 Montpensier and I will invite Georgie Parsons, the 
 brightest girl in Washington, for you. She will drop 
 in and accommodate me. She's always ready for 
 a dinner. Besides, there's two or three more gen- 
 tlemen and ladies. How convenient it is I only invited 
 fourteen! Now I can make room for two more at my 
 table. This will be delightful. You'll take it as your 
 informal welcome to Washington, won't you, J Jim ? 
 But I must drive you away. I have to dress. Where 
 are you stopping ? " 
 
 "At Chamberlin's," replies the Senator. 
 
 "Very well, then; run away, Jimmie, run away." 
 
 " If you call me Jimmie, I'll never get out of the
 
 1^0 HER SENATOR. 
 
 house," whispers Guernsey. "Besides, I don't budge 
 till I get the kiss Flora stole from me." 
 
 This he obtains after a vivacious and most piquant 
 skirmish, and departing, thinks as he strides down 
 Connecticut Avenue : " Isn't she a brick ? Never pur- 
 sued me by a telegram, never bothered me by a letter, 
 never compelled me to write a word to her, and hang 
 me if she isn't just a little prettier and just a little 
 sweeter than when I left her at Narragansett. " 
 
 As for his charmer, she gazes after her senator and 
 tautters: "You villain! You are just as bad as your 
 vile father. Those kisses shall cost you as much as 
 as Cleopatra charged Antony. " Then suddenly a great 
 wave of color flies over her face; the next instant she 
 is pale, trembling, frightened, and falters: " If I should 
 ever love him! Oh, God, I pray thee, not that\ not 
 THAT! " 
 
 For Guernsey's kisses have somehow been pleasant 
 to her, and the Senator has a fine figure, and a free, 
 easy, and frank affability that tends to popularity. 
 Besides, he is no longer bashful another element in 
 his favor with capricious womanhood. 
 
 Notwithstanding her fears, doubts, and perplexities, 
 Evelyn is intensely glad at the Senator's coming, for she 
 has been frightened at the prolonged absence of the 
 gentleman she fondly thought she held with a very 
 tight rein and jaw-breaking Mexican bit. 
 
 This evening, as young Pythagoras, with bright brass 
 buttons on his livery, and grinning eyes that gleam 
 under the gaslights, ushers the guests into Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor's pretty parlor, there is no brighter or more 
 vivacious lady in Washington than their fair hostess. 
 For Evelyn is dressed d, merveillc in the creation of a 
 New York dressmaker which rivals imported costume. 
 In it she looks like, a picture by Watteau, the gown 
 being a charming, Frenchy, shepherdess affair, though
 
 HER SENATOR. IQI 
 
 it is evidently intended for very warm weather, giving 
 exquisite pneumonia effects as to ivory shoulders, 
 arms, and bust. 
 
 Her manner and beauty are American, but her vivac- 
 ity and chic are French ; sometimes her conversation 
 also, for she has discovered that her flowing Parisian is 
 not only a convenience to her in addressing many of the 
 foreigners in the capital, but also produces considera- 
 tion from people who only speak the Anglo-Saxon 
 tongue some of them very badly. 
 
 One of the party is Mr. Raleigh, who has been in 
 the Senate a few years, and of whom the country has 
 reason to think very well. 
 
 Another is the Honorable Blatherskite Bostwick, Sena- 
 tor from the state of Miasma, who is a long-haired crazy 
 populist. He means well at least he thinks he means 
 well but he is so opposed to anybody being pros- 
 perous that he is even averse to giving his country 
 a chance of happiness. Like many men of anarchistic 
 proclivities he is a creature of fearful passions, amo- 
 rous and otherwise. He prates of virtue, but a couple 
 of young ladies in the Department offices could tell 
 tales about him. He cries out that all men are equal, 
 except himself; that every man is a scoundrel, except 
 himself; and yet he loves gold so well that he is a 
 silver man for purposes of reelection, and a buyer of 
 Gelatine stock for purposes of speculation, though he 
 denounces bankers every chance he gets in the United 
 States Senate. Yet such is the wildness of the man he 
 does not know he is a hypocrite and believes himself 
 as pure a statesman as ever graced the senatorial toga. 
 
 In contradistinction to him is the Honorable Mr. 
 Chippie, who is perfectly aware that the country has 
 reason to think very badly of him as it does; for Chippie 
 is for Chippie, first, last, and all the time. Chippie's 
 Opinion of the relative importance of things political
 
 1Q2 HER SENATOR. 
 
 in any crisis of the United States may always be put 
 like this: 
 
 Mr. J. Jefferson Sloville, a member of the lower House, 
 is a bustling Congressman. He is a hard worker on 
 committees, and having plenty of money, doesn't care 
 whether he is reflected ; a kind of man who does his 
 duty by his country without fear or favor. This 
 gentleman is accompanied by his wife, a pleasant- 
 looking lady, with mathematical manners and a tinge 
 of common sense in her way of stating a proposition. 
 
 Miss Georgie Parsons, whose mother keeps a fashion- 
 able boarding house on F street, where Mr. and Mrs. 
 Sloville live, is under their charge. She is a very
 
 HER SENATOR. 193 
 
 bright, dashing girl, with perchance too brilliant a 
 tongue to suit some of the gentlemen of the company. 
 
 Miss Algeria Tolstock adds literary grace to the 
 affair. Though very well gowned, there is a mas- 
 culinity in her evening dress that gives hints of her 
 being a new woman. She is a corresponpent for sev- 
 eral newspapers, but surreptitiously; were she known 
 as a dragon of the press, Senators Chippie and Bost- 
 wick would fly from her presence as the devil would 
 from holy water. 
 
 Monsieur and Madame de Merville also grace the draw- 
 ing-room at least, the lady does, she being a French- 
 woman of Parisian manners and breeding. As for De 
 Merville himself, he would not grace anything, being an 
 excited, dapper, flyaway little Frenchman, who has 
 obtained a subordinate post at the French Legation. 
 
 Two bright, sparkling American girls make up the 
 balance of the invited ladies; Miss Essie Stoddard, 
 who is Northern and adores the army, and Miss Kittie 
 Mifflin, who is Southern and in love with the navy. 
 They are here in Washington to have a good time, and 
 they are having it generally leaving their mothers 
 behind. They are girls who go to every social affair, 
 who are seen at ladies' teas, White House receptions 
 and wherever they can get in. They add greatly to 
 the charm and vivacity of life in the American capital 
 and no man would would keep them out, though per- 
 chance a good many of the ladies would, as they are 
 apt to monopolize dashing officers and long mus- 
 tachioed Legation attache's at "the Army and Navy 
 gennans " and other places where beauty and youth 
 count more than age and official position. 
 
 To entertain them have been invited Jack Gorley, 
 a lieutenant in the navy, who is great at the dance, 
 and Monsieur de Giers of a foreign legation. 
 
 Seuora de Oriva, with hawk's eyes and punctilious
 
 I<)4 HER SENATOR. 
 
 Spanisn etiquette, completes the gathering, which is 
 somewhat conglomerate, but still is a pretty good one 
 as Washington goes ; and Mrs. Montressor has done 
 very well with the three letters of introduction that Mr. 
 Steinbergh has given her to the capital. She has in- 
 creased her acquaintance, and has been seen in a num- 
 ber of Washington drawing-rooms, though she has not 
 yet been asked to stand behind the line at the White 
 House, and is not on visiting terms with the Cabinet 
 clique. 
 
 The usual preliminary babble is rising from these 
 ladies and gentlemen. Mr. Chippie, in an affable way 
 peculiar to this great man, has taken under his wing, 
 bright-tongued Miss Georgie Parsons, whose pretty 
 shoulders he likes to look upon, and is remarking to 
 her oracularly, rolling his eyes up to the bust of the 
 the great statesman whose fixed, immovable, bronze 
 expression seems to dominate the room: " Humph! 
 Daniel Webster! A great man in his time, but hardly, 
 my dear Miss Parsons, up to date." 
 
 "Oh, he isn't an up-to-date senator," giggles Miss 
 Georgie. 
 
 "No. Nowadays we senators pay our bills." This 
 remark is made in severe criticism of the prodigal and 
 impecunious defunct. 
 
 "Yes, nowadays, you senators knowo/^r^to get the 
 money to pay them with," whispers Miss Parsons; at 
 which Chippie grows suddenly red and confused and 
 turns an evil eye on the girl's pretty shoulders. 
 
 But just here Mr. Guernsey is announced. 
 
 As the young senator makes his appearance a sly 
 gleam flies into the eyes of Mr. Chippie, who is a wary 
 old bird at love as well as at politics. 
 
 "Guernsey brings with him the sea breezes of Nar- 
 ragansett," he whispers significantly into his hostess's 
 pretty ear as she goes forward to meet the new arrival,
 
 HER SENATOR 1 95 
 
 A minute after dinner is announced, and Mr. Ral- 
 eigh, the senior senator, offering his arm to the wife of 
 the Congressman leads her into the dining room, where 
 a feast made beautiful by floral decorations, brilliant 
 china, dazzling cut glass, and washed down by gener- 
 ous wines awaits them, Evie as hostess bringing up 
 the rear of the procession on Mr. Chippie's arm. 
 
 Guernsey has fallen into pleasant places, having as 
 his partner vivacious Miss Parsons, and for his left- 
 hand neighbor demure little Miss Mifflin, who has fallen 
 to the lot of stalwart Jack Gorley. Nearly opposite 
 them sits Algeria Tolstock, whose dholletti is a mas- 
 culine one, looking more like a Yale boatman's sweater 
 than anything else. Beside her is seated the Honorable 
 Blatherskite Bostwick, who is not very well pleased at 
 his location, as he likes pretty girls, and has upon his 
 other hand the hawk-eyed Spanish duenna. 
 
 Mr. Sloville is taking care of Madame de Merville, 
 and De Giers, the attache, is trying to talk French to 
 Essie Stoddard, who pretends to understand him, but 
 doesn't. 
 
 However, they are all doing their best in a Tower- 
 of-Babel way; for La Oriva is speaking Spanish to 
 Madame de Merville, the attache" jabbering French, 
 Katie Mifflin purring with a Southern accent, and Bost- 
 wick doing his best in Western vernacular, as the 
 oysters disappear and the soup takes their place, these 
 courses being silently, yet effectively, served by an old 
 darkey flunkey, who acts as Evie's butler, and his as- 
 sistant, an agile young waiter, gleaned from one of the 
 hotels for the occasion. 
 
 "You have just taken your oath of office, haven't 
 you ? " remarks Miss Georgie enthusiastically to Guern- 
 sey. " How does it feel to be a brand-new United 
 States Senator ? I look at you and wonder, ' Does he 
 feel too big for his boots ? ' f>
 
 196 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "Young lady, you're a prophet!" sighs Guernsey, 
 as he gives a wincing glance at his patent leathers 
 that, being new and pointed, torture his feet beneath 
 the mahogany. 
 
 " Do they hurt you very much ? " queries Miss Vi- 
 vacity laughingly. Then she whispers: "Hush! the 
 Honorable Mr. Chippie is about to utter wisdom." 
 
 For that senator, having cleared his voice by a pre- 
 liminary cough, turns his eyes upon the Congressman 
 and remarks: " Sloville, I don't think I shall support 
 the Gelatine schedule as sent up by the House. I may 
 report an amendment upon it." 
 
 "Oho! Isn't there enough jelly in the bill ?" giggles 
 Miss Georgie ; and though Chippie joins in the laugh 
 he thinks savagely: "Sharp-witted little wretch, you 
 go off Mrs. Chippie's visiting list on the double quick!" 
 A thing that will break Miss Parsons's heart, for the 
 girl is fighting the up-hill social fight of a boarding- 
 house-keeper's daughter in Washington society. 
 
 But Georgie is not the only one who makes enemies 
 this evening. Somebody chances to make a remark 
 about the new woman, at which Evie laughingly cries: 
 
 "Ah, you mean our failures!" 
 
 " Failures! " says Miss Tolstock. " FAILURES!" 
 
 "Certainly," replies Mrs. Montressor, carelessly. 
 "No woman ever wants to become a man until she has 
 failed as a woman. " 
 
 "Ah! very preety, very preety," remarks Monsieur 
 de Merville. "We have no new women en France 
 Zat ees impossible. Zey may dress for ze cycle, zey 
 may dress for ze chase, but zey are still women ail ze 
 time." 
 
 "And what do you mean by women all the time ?" 
 says Algeria with an austere shrug of her masculine 
 shoulders. 
 
 "All ze time ready to be made love to! La! la!"
 
 HER SENATOR. 1 97 
 
 cries the Frenchman, who has grown enthusiastic with 
 his champagne. 
 
 "But our new women don't get the chance," laughs 
 Evie lightly. 
 
 " Don't they," cries MissTolstock savagely. "Don't 
 they? LOOK AT ME!" and gazing at her masculine 
 muscles and powerful shoulders, an irrepressible giggle 
 runs over the company. And Evie by her remark 
 has made an enemy of Algeria Tolstock, who has a 
 cowardly way of avenging herself by anonymous 
 articles in the daily press. 
 
 Oh, bright tongues, how often do you cost your 
 owners dear ! 
 
 Then the babble runs away on other things coming 
 entertainments, coming politics but always getting 
 back to the great bill which is at present fermenting in 
 the American Congress, and upon whose schedule of 
 duties depends the value of Gelatine stock, Mr. 
 Chippie and Mr. Raleigh both adroitly attempting to 
 pump Guernsey upon his position on the bill, which 
 has been passed by the House and sent up to the Sen- 
 ate. As the vote will be very close, they are exceed- 
 ingly anxious to form an idea of the new man's posi- 
 tion. 
 
 But the Honorable James, who has learned the habit, 
 perchance from Indian traders, of keeping his mouth 
 shut and letting the other man do the talking, 
 simply replies: "I haven't formed an opinion on it 
 yet. I will do my duty according to my lights when 
 the time comes, though I would like a little informa- 
 tion on the subject from others who are better posted." 
 
 " Oh, you'll get plenty of that," laughs Chippie, 
 " Everybody is on one side or the other of the bill, but 
 I should judge you are on the fence." 
 
 At this into Evie's mind flies joy and hope. Guern- 
 sey is on the fence can she pull him over to her side
 
 198 HER SENATOR. 
 
 of it? For somehow or other into her mind has grad- 
 ually come this day the thought that her Senator will be 
 a difficult man to "boss" politically. He had, to use 
 a Western expression, "lassedand run away with" their 
 interview of the afternoon. She had not particu- 
 larly wanted to be kissed, but he had kissed her; she 
 had sturdily repelled being seated upon his knee, but 
 she had sat there like a naughty little girl getting a 
 scolding as long as he had told her to. She 
 didn't think he had a right to question her about other 
 gentlemen, especially Mr. Steinbergh, but she had 
 told him all he asked. Against this, he had looked 
 sympathetic when she had sighed that her Gelatine 
 stock was going down down ! 
 
 Even as she chats across the table to him she dis- 
 covers, there is one way of "bossing" him, that is by 
 appealing to his masculine strength, and appearing 
 weak as the ivy that clings to the oak. Then hope 
 becomes dominant as Mr. Chippie enters into a little 
 dinner flirtation with her; for she notes the fire of jeal- 
 ousy in Guernsey's eyes. 
 
 " MY pathos and his passion shall be my weapons! " 
 thinks this pretty lady, as she glances over the white 
 tablecloth made flowery by American beauty roses, 
 and discovers that neither Georgie Parsons's bright 
 face nor Katie Minim's glistening shoulders can gain 
 from the gentleman more than passing regard; and 
 the last is a beauty, and the first very pertly-tongued 
 and very laughing-eyed. 
 
 So the dinner runs along until Evie, giving signal, 
 rises and departs with her bevy of ladies into the 
 parlor, leaving the gentlemen to their liquors, cigars, 
 and masculine confidences; for the tongue of man 
 flows very freely after dinner, and the convivial hour is 
 as dangerous to mannish secrets as ladies' boudoirs are 
 to feminine "never-tells,"
 
 HER SENATOR. 199 
 
 The politicians have drawn their cnairs round Ra- 
 leigh, and are talking of the bill. The attache", naval 
 officer, and French raconteur are gossiping society on 
 dits by themselves. 
 
 "You know, of course, the closing Gelatine quota- 
 tion to-night ? " remarks Sloville. 
 
 "No. It was strong at two o'clock. God bless my 
 soul I have not read the evening paper ! " ejaculates 
 Chippie nervously. 
 
 "Any change in the stock market ?" asks Bostwick 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Only this, that within the last five minutes of the 
 New York Stock Board, Gelatine broke three per cent." 
 
 "Great Heavens!" cries the Honorable Hugh J. 
 Chippie turning pallid. 
 
 "My God! is it true?" mutters Bostwick, stifling 
 an oath. Gazing at these two gentlemen, a slight smile 
 goes over the Congressman's face, and he guesses that 
 both are very long of Gelatine stock. 
 
 As for Guernsey, his brow lowers also, for he is 
 thinking this will be a blow to their pretty hostess. 
 Noting his appearance Sloville puts him down also as 
 a speculator in that stock and thinks: " Thunder! This 
 senator was bought before he ever took his seat! " 
 
 This news tends to break up the dinner party, for 
 Chippie after a minute drops his cigar, which has now 
 no flavor for him, and Bostwick snarlingly gets up and 
 mutters he's got a telegram to send, which is the 
 truth, as his means are as yet comparatively slender 
 and a decided fall in Gelatine would be financial dis- 
 aster to him. 
 
 As for Chippie he cannot personally send any tele- 
 gram for he is prepared to swear that he has never 
 bought or sold a share of the stock, and to do this 
 has engaged the services of his valet who signs any 
 orders his master may send to Wall Street brokers;
 
 200 HER SENATOR. 
 
 consequently Chippie is in a hurry to dictate to his 
 body-servant. 
 
 Therefore very shortly the gentlemen stroll out of 
 the dining-room to make the ladies once more happy 
 by masculine attentions; Sloville, who is a man of grim 
 humor, going out last and chuckling to himself: " If 
 the fall in Gelatine had been known earlier, this would 
 have been a very gloomy dinner party." 
 
 The social atmosphere of the drawing-room proves the 
 truth of this, for Chippie's confident manner has become 
 nervous, and his strident voice is now husky and sub- 
 dued, and Bostwick's only remarks are snarls, even 
 though Evie seats herself beside him and makes little 
 Katie Mifflin give up the society of her sailor-man to 
 bring serenity once more to the Senator's countenance 
 by her pretty little feminine airs and graces. 
 
 A few moments after her guests are gone ; all save 
 Guernsey. 
 
 Walking up to him Evie says with decided voice: 
 "You must go also. Don't stay a moment. Be 
 sure and catch Chippie on Connecticut Avenue. 
 Don't let them say you remained after the rest. Don't, 
 for heaven's sake, let Miss Tolstock think you have the 
 privilege of lingering here. " 
 
 "I only stayed," remarks Guernsey, "to tell you 
 bad news." 
 
 " Bad news!" Her cheeks grow pale. 
 
 "Your stock has fallen three per cent." 
 
 " Oh, that doesn't matter," she mutters. Then 
 looking at him with appealing eyes and going into the 
 ivy-and-oak business, she murmurs: "I have given up 
 hope now. Kiss me and say good-night." 
 
 This is the first time she has ever proffered her lips 
 to him. His other caresses have been seized from 
 her by masterful masculine power. Guernsey's fourth 
 kiss is therefore tenderer than any of the three before,
 
 HER SENATOR. SOI 
 
 and it seems to soften her; and she clings round him 
 and sighs: " My only hope is in you." 
 
 "Good God ! is it as bad as that? " 
 
 " It is ruin, that's what it is ruin RUIN! But go 
 away, run quick, catch Mr. Chippie. Don't get me 
 talked about ! " 
 
 At this, Guernsey making a plunge for his overcoat, 
 rushes agilely from the hall, and with rapid strides over- 
 takes his less vigorous confrere from Populoso. He 
 also takes good care to be seen within five minutes in 
 the parlor of the Arlington by Miss Algeria Tolstock, 
 who lives at this hotel and generally takes a late supper 
 even after a dinner party. 
 
 But all the while Guernsey is thinking: "If I could 
 vote for the schedule of the gelatine duties! I will 
 hunt up statistics and see the truth of this matter." 
 
 Which he does and finds to his astonishment that 
 gelatine is cheaper under the Trust than it has ever 
 been before, much cheaper ; that people can indulge in 
 gelatine more liberally at less cost than they could be- 
 fore the Trust had put its " vulture claws" as he re- 
 members having read in one of the Western newspapers 
 upon the throat of the American public. 
 
 "Pray God," he mutters, "it may be my duty to 
 vote for the Gelatine schedule," and goes to bed, to 
 dream not of politics but of the clinging arms and kiss- 
 ing lips of Evie Montressor.
 
 HER SENATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 PRAYERS TO THE DEVIL. 
 
 But other gentlemen toss on uneasy pillows this 
 evening. 
 
 The Honorables Hugh J. Chippie and Blatherskite 
 Bostwick are not making a comfortable night of it. 
 Both, on the suggestions of the wily Steinbergh, have 
 gone heavily long on Gelatine stock, and this sudden 
 fall in their security has made Chippie angry and 
 Bostwick frightened. Chippie has plenty of money 
 already, and is an expert speculator himself ; but 
 for all that the diminishment of his investment, even 
 on the ticker, does not give him pleasure. 
 
 As for Blatherskite Bostwick, until he became a 
 senator and ready to barter his vote he had never had 
 the opportunity of speculating. Thrown into power 
 by one of those hysterical Populist waves out West, 
 that come as vigorously and as unexpectedly and do 
 as much damage as prairie cyclones and blizzards, Mr. 
 Bostwick had never before had the chance of playing 
 for a great financial stake. He has put all the money 
 he can command on light margin into Gelatine, think- 
 ing it is very low, as in truth it is the stock having 
 already declined thirty per cent. and intending by his 
 vote on gelatine duties to lift it up again. Therefore 
 this sudden fall in his security fr jhtens the g ntlcman, 
 for a still further decline means a call for additional 
 margins by his brokers, and, failing that, the sale of his 
 securities. He is in the same predicament as half a 
 dozen of his brother senators, and Mr. Steinbergh 
 having got them /", is now shrewdly putting the screws 
 on them to make them work to get themselves out by
 
 HER SENATOR. ac>3 
 
 passing a satisfactory tariff enactment in regard to 
 gelatine that will make the stock boom and soar into 
 the financial empyrean above par. 
 
 At present the man who holds Gelatine in his hand 
 is engaged in the occupation so pleasant to the mag- 
 nates of great trusts, of "sawing out longs" and 
 "milking the street"; consequently the fluctuations of 
 the stock are both erratic and violent in the extreme ; 
 at times the security seeming buoyant as a balloon, and 
 at others falling with a rapidity that makes its unfortu- 
 nate holders think it is going straight to Tophet, and 
 if they don't sell in a flash they will go to financial 
 perdition with it. Already a wail has gone up from 
 the widows and orphans who are holders of it for 
 investment. 
 
 Now this kind of manipulation is a process with 
 which Mr. Chippie has sometimes indulged himself in 
 railroad securities that he controls, and though it 
 makes him angry, it doesn't worry him to the extent it 
 does Mr. Bostwick, who thinks he sees bankruptcy 
 staring him in the face, yet knows he will never 
 dare to shriek out his plaint, for these gentlemen of 
 the Senate have all declared on their honor, both pub- 
 licly and privately, that not one of them has bought or 
 sold a share of Gelatine stock, and are prepared by 
 oath, if necessary, to support it if a Senate Com- 
 mittee is appointed to investigate; and most of the 
 brokers they have employed are prepared to swear 
 with them. 
 
 Therefore, though to-night Mr. Steinbergh, the great 
 Gelatine Trust magnate rests very easily on his downy 
 couch in his magnificent apartments in New York, Mr. 
 Chippie's slumber is uneasy and restless, and the Hon- 
 orable Blatherskite Bostwick doesn't know what sleep 
 means as he tosses on the pillow of the despairing 
 speculator throughout the unending night, and rises to
 
 04 HER SENATOR. 
 
 senatorial duties in the morning, hating Wall Street 
 worse than ever but resolved for very self-preservation 
 to fight the Gelatine battle with all his pigmy soul. 
 
 These two statesmen's breakfasts would probably be 
 more unpalatable to them than they are likewise that 
 of the Honorable James B. Guernsey could they but 
 read a little scented note that has been despatched by 
 midnight mail and has arrived in New York just about 
 this time, and is being read by the gentleman who is 
 the author of their miseries. It is as follows: 
 
 DEAR MR. STEINBERGH : You have asked me to keep you 
 au courant with Washington events, especially society ones ; as 
 you suggested that social straws often show how the political 
 feather flies. I have been giving a little series of dinner parties 
 as you advised. One of them took place last night and was 
 quite a success I can tell you. Foui senators and one con- 
 gressman honored but hardly graced my table. What do yon 
 think of that? The Honorable and aristocratic Hugh J. Chip- 
 pie, the populistic Blatherskite Bostwick, and the staid and 
 solemn Wilton Raleigh ; likewise the Honorable Doc Guernsey, 
 of Populoso, who has at last turned up from the West. I feared 
 he would never come. Mr. Sloville, of the House was also 
 present. 
 
 I don't think you can count on Mr. Raleigh to vote for 
 the Gelatine schedule of duties, though he states he is reading 
 up statistics on it. As for Bostwick and Chippie you have got 
 them now I My butler informs me that both winced when they 
 learnt Gelatine stock had gone down. 
 
 I think I am nw in a position to accept your very generous 
 offer. Place the stock to my account and I will deliver the 
 goods. Very gratefully and sincerely, 
 
 EVELYN MONTRESSOR. 
 
 P.S. Social life is awfully expensive here. Of course the 
 fifteen thousand dollars I made in stocks seems a large sum to 
 &poor man like you, but to a rich woman as I am it is nothing ! 
 It is now really, truly NOTHING ! Place the stock to my account 
 as soon as possible and then make it go up high, dear, good 
 Mr. Steinbergh, make it go up high. E. 
 
 To this she receives in the course of the next day 
 the following characteristic reply:
 
 HER SENATOR. 205 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. MONTXESSOR: I bless you, astute little soul, 
 and thank you for the information that Chippie and Bostwick 
 both winced when the stock went down. 
 
 You will receive from Messrs. Castillio & Co. a statement 
 that you have purchased five thousand shares of Gelatine com- 
 mon, at to-day's market rates. Then do your best to make the 
 stock rise, for if you don't you may wince like Chippie and 
 Bostwick. Heaven helps those who help themselves ! 
 Yours fraternally, 
 
 S. 
 
 This makes the fair widow's faculties very keen and 
 she notes Steinbergh's whip is doing its work very well 
 upon the statesmen in Washington, who are long of 
 Gelatine, a number of members of both Houses 
 being in the same predicament as Chippie and Bost- 
 wick; and within the next few days this coterie of 
 speculating politicians by their influence succeed in 
 getting the proper amendment to the Gelatine duties 
 made in the Senate Committee to the bill that has 
 been sent up to it from the Lower House. 
 
 Then come two questions: 
 
 First, whether this amendment will pass the Senate ! 
 
 Second, if it does pass the Senate, can the Senate 
 ram it down the throat of the House ? 
 
 For the House, coming directly from the people, 
 has'more of the people's honesty within it, it being more 
 difficult to bribe the general public, than it is to de- 
 bauch a few members of a State Legislature in the 
 various manners usual to senatorial contests, /. <r., 
 promises of office, promises of influence, and last and 
 not least, cash down. 
 
 But the vote in the Senate is apparently going to be 
 very close upon this Gelatine schedule of duties, and 
 Mr. Steinbergh in his philanthropic way gives his co- 
 adjutors who are pressing the bill, he thinks, rather too 
 indolently, another little reminder as to what will hap- 
 pen to them in case it doesn't go through. Gelatine 
 stock makes another break of about two points in less 
 
 I
 
 2o6 HER SENATOR. 
 
 than two minutes in the New York Stock Exchange. 
 This news brings the perspiration of agony upon some 
 of their brows, especially Bostwick's; who curses Wall 
 Street, but works all the harder under its lash fear- 
 ing he will be sold out. 
 
 In this he is a fool. Mr. Steinbergh does not wish 
 to sell him out, then he would surely vote against the 
 Gelatine duties. He merely wants to frighten his 
 friends in the Senate and make them work like beavers 
 to give him the duties he wants. 
 
 But while the magnate of the Gelatine Trust is 
 squeezing the patriotic statesmen of the Senate, he 
 is also squeezing the pocket of his fair coadjutor, 
 Evelyn Montressor. And this is reflected in her man- 
 ner to Mr. Guernsey. 
 
 In her anguish she has cried to herself, " I will have 
 his vote. I must have his vote! " and has voiced this 
 extraordinary proposition from woman's logic! "It 
 would be dishonorable, for me not to gain his vote; I 
 have promised it! " 
 
 To this task she has set herself with all her feminine 
 tact, all her vivacious beauty ; bringing every charm of 
 manner, every tenderness of mien, so as to win 
 Jim Guernsey's heart and make it her very own, 
 even to the extent, that for her he may sacrifice, if 
 need be, the respect of men, to do her bidding in 
 the halls of the United States Senate. 
 
 She does not dare to essay this openly, one or 
 two hints on the subject not having been received 
 encouragingly. One afternoon she has said to him 
 for he has now got into the habit of dropping into her 
 pretty flat at odd times : ' ' Now, J Jim " (Heavens ! 
 how alluring she makes the "J Jim!") "Now 
 J Jim, you'll do one thing for me, won't you ? " 
 
 "You bet ! " cries the enchanted Guernsey, forget- 
 ting diction in his rapture,
 
 HER SENATOR. 207 
 
 "Then when the vote comes in the Senate upon 
 which my little fortune depends " 
 
 "I'll do what I think is square," interjects the Sena- 
 tor. " I thought you meant a personal service. That 
 is yours to command, Sis. But in my political life I 
 don't want a woman boss. " Then he gazes at the bust 
 of Daniel Webster and mutters: "Great Scott ! what 
 would that patriot have said to a woman boss !" 
 
 "He'd he'd have loved a dozen of them," laughs 
 Mrs. Montressor. 
 
 " Humph ! I believe Daniel did love the ladies," 
 assents the Senator grimly; then goes on sternly: 
 "But there's no record he ever elected one of them his 
 political boss. And look here, little girl " his tone is 
 very solemn now " if you want me to love you as you 
 ought to be loved, you'll not mention this matter again 
 to me. You wring my heart strings by your appeals. 
 But Jim Guernsey has taken his oath of office and 
 every time he votes he remembers it. Quit talking of 
 politics that you don't understand and play me the 
 'Whistling Coon.' You sing as well as if you had 
 been a professional." 
 
 This request Mrs. Montressor has deemed it best to 
 comply with, and very docilely has sung this touching 
 negro melody with such dainty pathos and such ex- 
 quisite voice, that Guernsey has cried in admiration : 
 " Thunder, Evie! You ought to go on the stage ! " 
 
 And she has astonished and horrified him by sighing: 
 "That's where I shall have to go, if Gelatine sinks 
 much lower! " 
 
 But here he astounds her, for he says authoritatively: 
 "The stage? I shall not permit it! Suppose I will 
 have the eyes of a thousand theatre-goers gazing 
 at you every night ? No, Miss, not this trip, by 
 the scalp of Sitting Bull! " 
 
 This style of talk, which he has indulged in several
 
 208 HER SENATOR. 
 
 times lately, makes Evelyn gaze at Mr. James Guern- 
 sey with a kind of horror in her eyes. " He seems to 
 believe that I belong to him," she thinks, patting the 
 carpet nervously with her little foot. "Perchance 
 he wishes me to become a pauper, so that I will 
 be entirely in his power." Then she clenches her 
 exquisite fist savagely, and cogitates: "You infamous 
 villain, just like your father! Thank God, I am a 
 helpless child no more ! " and would gaze upon her 
 mentor with evil eye, did she but dare. 
 
 Another incident that takes place soon afterward, 
 and which she resents, makes her think she hates him 
 even more. 
 
 Guernsey, lounging, after his easy manner, into Mrs. 
 Montressor's parlor, for 1 he now with Western breezi- 
 ness apparently thinks he owns the flat, chances to put 
 his eyes upon a dispatch lying ready for district tele- 
 graph boy, and noting it is addressed to Augustus Stein- 
 bergh his gaze becomes stern, his manner preoccupied; 
 he does not even greet the lady he has come to see as 
 she sits, alluring to look upon, in unconventional but 
 coquettish teagown. 
 
 Evie murmurs to him: "You haven't kissed me, 
 Jim!" For by this time the widow has made up her 
 mind to play for her Senator's heart strings, not for his 
 judgment. 
 
 This he does not answer directly but says quite 
 sternly: "You send a telegram to Mr. Steinbergh? 
 You know I don't care about your communicating with 
 him." 
 
 "Not even to save the little that is left me ?" she 
 murmurs, then cries almost savagely : ' ' You didn't want 
 me to see him. I have not seen him to my financial 
 ruin, perhaps I have not seen him ! And now you 
 object to a telegram." 
 
 For one moment Evie's eyes blaze at hr- self-consti'
 
 HER SENATOR. 2Op 
 
 tuted tyrant, but forcing herself to play her role, she 
 suddenly tears open the envelope that contains the dis- 
 patch, holds it before Guernsey's eyes and sobs : 
 "Read it, if that will please you, read it ! " 
 
 Then Guernsey sees to his dismay the following de- 
 spairing communication: 
 
 If my brokers call on me for more margins I cannot 
 respond, I am ruined. Please, if the stock goes up a little bit, 
 sell all I have and save me from penury. E. M. 
 
 From this her tyrant turns eyes of sympathy and 
 admiration upon his enchantress, who now sits a picture 
 of drooping loveliness before him. Perchance his 
 gaze might have more admiration and less sympathy 
 did he guess that this dispatch has been placed upon 
 the table for his jealous glance to fall upon it, so that 
 he may make the very demand he has made, and read 
 the message that has been written not for the finan- 
 cier's eyes, but for his. 
 
 Suddenly the Western senator astounds her and 
 makes her for one instant ashamed. He whispers to 
 her: "Cheer up, little girl! I'll make your stock go 
 up. / can do it by ten words ! " 
 
 "What are those ?" 
 
 " One sentence spoken in the United States Senate 
 this afternoon. They think that upon my vote depends 
 the success or failure of the Gelatine schedule. I 
 understand Raleigh will to-day state that statistics 
 show that since the formation of the Trust, gelatine 
 has become cheaper to the inhabitants of the United 
 States." 
 
 " And you ? " falters Evelyn, her eyes flaming with 
 sudden hope. 
 
 "I ? I shall say I have also examined the statistics 
 and I find that the Senator from Kalamazah is cor- 
 rect!" That'll make Wall street think I am going to 
 vote for the Gelatine schedule," remarks Guernsey
 
 a 10 HER SENATOR. 
 
 grimly. " It is very sensitive to the words of Senators 
 at this moment." 
 
 "God bless you ! " she mutters faintly. 
 
 " I'm not too sure that God will bless me or Wall 
 Street either ultimately," chuckles the statesman, 
 ' but if you bless me, kiss your Jimmie. " Which she 
 does. 
 
 Then Guernsey speaks again. " I'll send the tele- 
 gram to Steinbergh ordering him to sell your stock. I 
 would prefer that you did not communicate with him 
 directly." 
 
 "You you don't like Mr. Steinbergh ? " 
 
 " I don't dislike him. He's a very pleasant com- 
 panion, too pleasant a fellow, "he says grimly, " to have 
 galavanting about my inclosure." 
 
 With these enigmatical words Guernsey goes away, 
 but does this afternoon in the halls of the Senate what 
 he has promised, and, his words being flashed over the 
 country, Wall Street thinks the Gelatine schedule sure 
 of passing. So does Steinbergh, and up it goes half a 
 dozen points. 
 
 For this, the ensuing day the Senator receives such 
 pretty thanks from bright eyes and sweet lips that it 
 puts him in the seventh heaven of amorous delight. 
 
 He says to Evie: "Now, I'll telegraph to sell your 
 stock, little woman. Don't communicate with Mr. 
 Steinbergh." 
 
 This he does this very night. But he does not guess 
 that another telegram has been sent to the financier by 
 the lady for whom he is acting, telling him to pay no 
 attention to any communications signed "Guernsey," 
 but to hold all telegrams received with that signature 
 very carefully for further us. 
 
 On receiving Steinbergh's answer to her communica- 
 tion Evelyn thinks grimly: " My Senator has put inio 
 my hands the weapon with which to ruin him in thf
 
 HER SENATOR. 21 1 
 
 sight of his fellow men. From now on he may swear 
 that he has had no transactions in Gelatine, but I hold 
 the dispatch that will prove Jim Guernsey, United 
 States Senator from Populoso, has dealt in at least 
 five thousand shares of that stock. By his speech he 
 has made Gelatine go up; then he has sold it! " And 
 she clenches her little fist, and cries to herself: "I'll, 
 ruin him! He would make me absolutely dependent 
 upon him for WHAT? To prey upon my helplessness! 
 His infamous father stole my birthright. This villain- 
 son would steal from me my right to look other wo- 
 men in the face. He cannot mean anything else, he 
 has the Guernsey blood, hypocrite, scoundrel ! Oh ! how 
 I hate him! hate him ! HATE HIM! " seeming to take 
 a hysterical pleasure in these words that she has very 
 often said to herself in the last few days. 
 
 A moment after she sneers: "He has done this 
 little thing for me for jealousy of Steinbergh," then 
 utters this unholy petition: "O Father of lies! If I 
 can make him supremely jealous! The moment I 
 make him that I WIN ! " 
 
 And as if His Satanic Majesty had been listening to 
 her prayer for the devil generally puts a trump card 
 into a lady's hand at the proper moment in such a 
 game as this this very evening into Washington, with 
 flaming posters and big head lines in the newspapers, 
 comes the Lucile Jervaise Opera Company, bearing as 
 its second tenor, under the stage name of Claude Au- 
 chester, the ex-husband of the lady who would play 
 with the heart of the Hon. James B. Guernsey, Senator 
 from Populoso. 
 
 To add to the ingredients of this strange melange 
 there also journeys a day or two after into the capital 
 Gonzalo de Oriva, who has been called to this place 
 by a letter from his mother that has contained the 
 following lines, which fire the Spanish blood :
 
 212 HER SENATOR, 
 
 I fear Senior* Montressor is being persecuted by the love of 
 Seflor Guernsey, the mighty Senador from the Occidente. Since 
 he has arrived thy beautiful darling has grown pale, nervous, 
 trembling, and has said many prayers to the devil. 
 
 On reading this the Spaniard has ground his white 
 teeth and muttered: " Caramba! I will eat his heart ! 
 Vatnos Gonzalo ! "
 
 HER SENATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE SECOND TENOR MAKES A HIT. 
 
 INTO this affair there also comer a malicious, 
 and ruin, feminine hate. 
 
 Algeria Tolstock having chosen to consider Evelyn 
 Montressor's words about the new woman at the din- 
 ner party as personal sneers against herself, is pre- 
 pared to avenge them by a number of arts most of 
 which are not manly. 
 
 This lady would probably have hated in fact did 
 hate the fair widow from the moment Evie's charm- 
 ing personality brought envy to the lone spinster's 
 heart. She hates Evelyn for her beauty, which Miss 
 Tolstock has not; likewise because of her prosperity; 
 for every time Algeria sees Mrs. Montressor's dashing 
 equipage with prancing horses and natty coachman fly 
 past her, as she tramps the wintry streets of Washing- 
 ton, she grinds one part of her soul against the other. 
 
 What Algeria hates she chastises ! She says to her- 
 self: "This siren has meshed in her artful net the 
 innocent, simple-minded statesman from the West. It 
 shall be my duty to save him ! " 
 
 In this pursuit she has placed herself at various times 
 in mannish and alluring fashion in the presence of this 
 gentleman she would protect, in hotel corridors, the 
 parlors of the Arlington, and other localities where she 
 can conveniently get at him. 
 
 But to her free and easy, " How are you, Jim ? " or 
 "Could you give me a card to ladies' gallery, Ser - 
 tor," as well as soft glances of her coquettish mascu- 
 line eyes, Guernsey has^aid little heed.
 
 414 HER SENATOR 
 
 This has angered her, and she has muttered: "I 
 will be revenged on both of them. He wants to be 
 a villain ; I shall not stop him, but I will make it appar- 
 ent to the world. The light of the press shall illumine 
 the intrigues of this Delilah, who is shearing the head 
 of the Samson from the West. With my pen dipped 
 in venom will I stab them both." 
 
 Materials are not lacking for the article she proposes. 
 Washington has already put its eyes upon the beautiful 
 widow, and said slyly to itself: "Jim Guernsey is a 
 lucky fellow; he's got the prettiest girl in the capital! " 
 Several interviews this self-appointed guardian of virtue 
 has with Pythagoras in which she deftly pumps 
 Evie's darkey page by means of the pervading dollar 
 system, which in Washington goes up in increasing 
 volume from the waiters at Chamberlin's to the Senate 
 chamber itself procures spicy reports of certain ten- 
 der passages that have occurred between the Senator 
 and the lady upon whom he lavishes his attentions. 
 
 " Clar to goodness;" remarks Pythagoras; " clar to 
 goodness, yo should see 'em, Missie Tall Stalks. Dey 
 just hangs on each Oder's lips like bull purps fightin'. 
 But don't you gibe me away. I wouldn't tell yo dis ef 
 it wasn't fo' the Senator callin* me a black-skinned 
 imp, 'cause I burned his rubber galloshoes heatin' 'em 
 in de hall furnace! " 
 
 From these revelations of the page and words that 
 have come to her from one or two visitors at Sara- 
 toga and Narragansett during the preceding summer, 
 grouped together in a mind of massive grasp for scan- 
 dal in general and feminine depravity in particular, 
 this lady of anonymous newspaper correspondence has 
 produced an article which she has sent with ghoulish 
 glee to the editor of the Silveropolis Buzzard! a 
 journal which is at present devoting itself to attacking 
 first, foremost and all the time the Honorable James B.
 
 HER SENATOR. 215 
 
 Guernsey, Senator from Populoso, who will not vote 
 for pensioning the sister of the editor of said paper as 
 the widow of a veteran, this lady having while still in 
 short skirts, five years after the war had ended mar- 
 ried a decrepit recruiting sergeant on his death-bed 
 with a view to the aforesaid pension. This emolument 
 having been complacently reckoned up by the editor of 
 the paper as one of his family's goods, chattels, and 
 endowments, the non-receipt of it makes him think 
 the American Congress the home of devils. 
 
 In addition to this, for the last two or three weeks, 
 Miss Algeria has been stabbing Evelyn beneath the 
 clavicle by anonymous letters that she has sent to the 
 devoted Guernsey hinting that Evie is not a widow, 
 suggesting that she may have never been a wife, and 
 insinuating that a few pertinent questions, if answered 
 truthfully by Augustus Steinbergh of the New York 
 Gelatine Trust, might open the eyes of the guileless 
 Western statesman. 
 
 It is these letters that have made Guernsey so deter- 
 minedly jealous of Steinbergh. But he has said no 
 word of them to the lady accused, thinking to himself: 
 " I won't shame her by asking her to answer anony- 
 mous communications. But if I can put my hands on 
 the living author of these letters, by the eternal, the 
 chap shall stand face to face with the woman he has 
 maligned," for Miss Algeria's communications have 
 been made by typewriter, which has been invented by 
 the devil for disguising handwriting, and Guernsey 
 thinks they come from man, not woman. 
 
 It is with these disturbing ideas in his head that 
 one evening the Honorable James B. Guernsey takes 
 his place in a stage box at the National Theatre, very 
 proud to have by his side the woman he thinks the 
 handsomest in Washington. 
 
 The performance is one of Offenbach's master-
 
 21 6 HER SENATOR 
 
 pieces, the music of which has been emasculated by 
 the additions and alterations of an American orchestral 
 leader who has, with that audacious vanity peculiar to 
 small minds, imagined he could improve the rhythms 
 that set the world dancing, and the melodies that made 
 the world whistle. Dead genius should be left alone 
 by those who cannot themselves originate. 
 
 The audience is large as well as fashionable, and 
 the piece being very handsomely staged and volup- 
 tuously embellished by a number of very pretty girls in 
 the chorus, the performance delights and amuses Mr. 
 Guernsey, who has not yet become blast with the 
 elaborate mise-cn-scne, gorgeous costuming and gener- 
 ous mounting of the Eastern theatres. 
 
 Mrs. Montressor, sitting in the front of the box which 
 looks almost directly on the stage, enjoys it also. It 
 at least serves to divert her thoughts from the subject 
 on which they have dwelt so intently for many weeks, 
 and which now is approaching its crisis; for all the 
 time she is asking herself this question: "Will I be 
 able to deliver ' the goods ' ? " 
 
 Therefore she is very complaisant, charming, and 
 flattering to "the goods " as they sit a little in front of 
 her, for Guernsey having grown eager, is leaning out 
 over the stage applauding the efforts of the chorus who 
 are composed of very pretty feminine soldiers and a 
 mixture of loutish German peasants together with the 
 witcheries of Wanda and the buffooneries of the bari- 
 tone comedian as General Boom. 
 
 In truth, they both enjoy the performance very well un- 
 til the entry of the effeminate Prince Paul, the degener- 
 ate scion of an effete German principality. This la-de- 
 da creature is played by a big, hulking fellow, whose 
 blond hair is concealed by an elaborate wig and his 
 features ornamented by a long, thoroughly waxed 
 mustache.
 
 HER SENATOR. 417 
 
 On his entrance the princeling's face has been 
 turned from Evelyn, and his tone has been affected; 
 but, as he breaks out into the air entitled "The 
 Gazette of Holland," his singing voice, especially 
 his manner of always giving his high notes _/?<*/, 
 strikes Mrs. Montressor with a presage of impend- 
 ing doom. Then, as he crosses to left center 
 and turns his face in sickly smile upon the 
 audience, hoping to catch its admiration, his eyes 
 meet those of the lady in the first stage box, who gazes 
 at him as if he were a basilisk. Her face grows white 
 as the marble column behind it; her gloved hand, 
 which has been carelessly extended beyond the rail of 
 her box, grasping a programme she has not read, be- 
 comes as paralyzed, and from its feeble fingers the play- 
 bill escapes and drops upon the stage. 
 
 This calls Guernsey's attention to her. He turns, 
 and, seeing her face, mutters, in alarm: "Good 
 Heavens, you are ill!" 
 
 " Not not at all," falters Evelyn. 
 
 " By Jove, you must be ill you're white as snow by 
 moonlight." 
 
 " The calcium light was accidentally thrown upon 
 me. I'm all right," she murmurs; then, for she has a 
 strong soul in her fair body, attempting playfulness, 
 she laughs; "Perhaps, however, Prince Paul's atro- 
 cious phrasing and fearful flatting gave me a shudder," 
 next mutters: " You know my musical ear is very deli- 
 cate." 
 
 "Yes, I know you have the prettiest ears on earth," 
 whispers the enraptured Senator, "and you sing like a 
 prima donna, or better." To this he adds, grimly: 
 "You had better stick cotton- wool in your ears now! 
 Great Scott! the second tenor is singing worse than 
 ever!" 
 
 This is true, as Prince Paul, in his next verse,
 
 2l8 HER SENATOR. 
 
 seems to have gone astray entirely, both as regards 
 notes and lyrics. But it rather adds to his perform- 
 ance of the stupid German Prince in the eyes of the 
 audience, who imagine his personal stupidity the as- 
 sumed embarrassment of the dudish princeling, and 
 Claude Auchester receives more applause for this than 
 he has ever obtained since he joined the Lucile Jervaise 
 Opera Company so much that the comedian, who 
 essays General Boom, claps him on the shoulder at their 
 exit, and says : 
 
 "By donkeys ! you've made a hit, old man, not 
 only with the audience but with that corking woman in 
 the stage box ! " 
 
 "Yes, I've made a hit with her before," mutters 
 Claude, who cannot restrain his self-glorification, for 
 Evie, as she sits in her box that night, is a dream of 
 beauty; desperation and embarrassment adding a new, 
 yet lovely light to her eyes and a nervous intensity to 
 each pose or gesture, giving to her almost that strange 
 yet weird fascination of hypnotic trance. 
 
 "Ah, you know her, you break-heart Lothario with 
 the lion's hair and the rat's voice ? " chuckles the 
 comedian. 
 
 "I should think so, you comedian of rat's face and 
 lion's voice," returns the second tenor savagely. 
 "She's my wife !" 
 
 "Your wife? Great jingo!" stutters General 
 Boom, then he whispers jocularly: " Number one, two, 
 or three ? " and goes away very full of his news. 
 This soon gets bruited about among the company 
 from chorus to prima donna; the consequence being 
 that all upon the stage turn their gaze upon the 
 lady in the Honorable James B. Guernsey's box; the 
 chorus sings at her, the prima donna acts at her, and the 
 first tenor, leaving the center of the stage, sighs his 
 love notes almost in to her ear; the conspirators dange
 
 HER SENATOR. 2 19 
 
 at her, and finally, during the ball-room scene in the 
 second act, the calcium man behind the scenes, want- 
 ing to get a good view of her, turns his limelight upon 
 her; and, inspired by the Thespian desire of showing 
 off and "mashing," the company give the best per- 
 formance they have ever rendered of La Grande 
 Duchcssc, in honor of Claude Auchester's beautiful 
 spouse. 
 
 All enjoy it except the ex-husband and the ex-wife. 
 Guernsey smiles complacently and whispers : ' 'By scalp- 
 locks! Evie, your beauty has made a hit on the stage 
 as well as with the audience. See that infernal first 
 tenor make eyes at you! " 
 
 "Pshaw! it's an ovation to you," laughs Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor forcing herself to lightness. "Do you notice 
 how that pretty chorus-girl at the end of the quadrille 
 the one in the green brocade court dress is ogling 
 you ? " 
 
 "Oh! the one with the lace stockings ?" remarks the 
 statesman, complacently. 
 
 "Yes, you are right about the hosiery, "giggles Evie, 
 half hysterically, for just at this moment Prince Paul 
 has given her a most love-sick glance. Then she mur- 
 murs, archly: " I suppose you'll want to take me home 
 before the end of the performance so you can be at the 
 stage entrance with the dude clerks of the Treasury 
 Department ? " 
 
 "Why, Sis, I haven't been on a spree since I came 
 to Washington," mutters Guernsey, in wounded tone. 
 To this he adds complacently: " That's doing pretty 
 well, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Yes, for a senator," murmurs Evelyn, as she fights 
 her battle against embarrassment, which is not helped 
 by the statesman suddenly whispering savagely: " It's 
 remarkably curious the way the second tenor scowls at 
 me every chance he gets."
 
 22O HER SENATOR. 
 
 This is true, as the comedian has playfully put 
 Claude Auchester in paroxysms of rage by remarking: 
 "My dear boy, you're left! Don't you see the big 
 man big gun he must be, senator or head of a de- 
 partment, or some other government swell ? He's 
 sweeter on your wife than if she were corn juice. Why 
 don't you tackle him and get a backer ? Many a fellow 
 has gone starring on less ! " 
 
 This kind of insinuation does not make Evie's ex- 
 husband feel kindly to the big man in dress suit and 
 ample white waistcoat who is applauding vigorously at 
 every point, and his rage is augmented by the prima 
 donna, who is a vivacious little wag in her way, whis- 
 pering to him in wicked archness as they dance in the 
 second act: " Does he pay you alimony ? " 
 
 So all this evening Claude, whenever the stage busi- 
 ness will permit him, regards Guernsey with malevolent 
 glances, and Evelyn with appealing ones, that make her 
 sick at heart, for she knows they mean further appeals 
 to her purse, if not to her affections, and perchance 
 some horrible faux pas that may embarrass if not 
 destroy her chances of James B. Guernsey's vote in 
 the Senate. 
 
 But Claude's glances are as nothing to the fitful 
 flashes that come from a pair of dark eyes in the 
 orchestra, the eyes of Gonzalo, the Spaniard, who 
 notes the pallor of his lady-love in the box, and attrib- 
 uting it to her disgust at the attentions and persecu- 
 tions of the great Western senator mutters to him- 
 self: "Diablo! Querida mia is sighing for me. She 
 has discovered that she loves me ! She is dying slowly 
 beneath that ladron's nauseous endearments. Santos ! 
 but I am the man to stop it! " 
 
 So Evie sits gazing on the merry opera, its jokes as 
 naught to her, its music a babel of sound ; in her mind 
 one idea how can she get out of the theatre before
 
 HER SEN ATOP 231 
 
 Claude intrudes himself upon her to toite her to an ex- 
 planacion with Guernsey that may be fatal to her pro- 
 ject. She knows that no diffidence or modesty will 
 keep her ex-husband from intruding upon her: that it 
 will be a race for her to escape from the theater be- 
 fore he can get to her side. 
 
 She does not dare to hurry her escort away before 
 the curtain falls, fearing it will produce comment ; but 
 even as the green baize descends she lays entreating 
 hand upon the Senator's black coat-sleeve and murmurs : 
 
 Take me to supper, quick ! " 
 
 "You're hungry, little woman ? " he questions. 
 
 "Yes, and thirsty!" 
 
 In this she tells the truth, for her throat is burning 
 with feverish dismay, her voice is husky with anxiety. 
 
 Thus adjured, Guernsey remarks complacently: " So 
 am I ! " Then, being a quick man with clothes, he slips 
 on his overcoat, and, taking Mrs. Montressor on his 
 arm elbows his way through the crowd with Western 
 promptness and modern disregard of other people's toes ; 
 and their carriage being brought hurriedly up, they 
 make a rapid drive to Mr. Chamberlin's celebrated 
 restaurant on McPherson Square. 
 
 There the lady eats but little, though she drinks her 
 champagne in a feverish way, appearing distraught and 
 absent-minded so much so that the Senator observes 
 in anxious voice: "You don't seem to be up to your 
 usual high level, girly-gurly ! Too much society ? " 
 
 " Not at all," she replies, "too much anxiety." 
 
 "Oh, don't worry about that bill," he says, cheerily. 
 "It'll be all right, anyway." 
 
 To this she murmurs: " If you say so, it must be all 
 right," and is very kind to him as he takes her home, 
 permitting him one kiss in the carriage and an extra 
 bonne bouche as he bids her good night. 
 
 As for Guernsey, he is in high spirits, so much so
 
 221 HER SENATOR. 
 
 that this lady, who imagines she has got to reading her 
 man quite well, remarks: "What makes you so 
 happy? " 
 
 "Well, I don't suppose its right to oe elated at other 
 people's misfortunes," replies the statesman, "but I've 
 just received a telegram that the Silveropolis Buzzard 
 has been busted in business and seized by the sheriff; 
 and as that journal has been giving me particular fits 
 for the last few weeks, it has not made me cry. Be- 
 sides, this miserable revenue bill comes up for vote to- 
 morrow night. It's a thing that has bothered every- 
 body, and me in particular, and with that off my 
 mind, I'll take time to attend to a little private love 
 affair 'of mine." 
 
 With these curious words on his lips he goes reluc- 
 tantly away, favoring Evelyn with a look that makes 
 her, from the roots of her golden hair to her ivory 
 neck, one living blush. 
 
 His words have set her brain at work, and, as his 
 steps die away, she thinks: " That means that villain 
 will expect his answer soon "; then sneers: " He's a 
 rather slow man for a senator hasn't been on a spree 
 since he came to Washington !" Next mutters, with 
 blazing eyes: " Does he mean his first spree shall be 
 with me ? Wait till I have your vote, you dastard ! 
 Then, if you speak of love to me, I will destroy you!" 
 
 A minute after she shudders: "It is only a day 
 more. If I can keep Claude from bringing destruction 
 on me I shall win. But he is certain to discover my 
 address, certain to come walk'ng in upon me, per- 
 chance to my undoing, to-morrow. It all hangs on 
 twenty-four hours I' 1
 
 HER SENATOR 223 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IF I SAY " AYE," WILL YOU SAY AYE ? 
 
 IN this she is perfectly right. Claude is already on 
 her track. As soon as he has been able to wash off his 
 make-up and get into the clothes of every-day life he 
 has rushed to the front of the theater, but finding that 
 the audience have all drifted away has muttered 
 mournfully to himself: " Yes, I can trust her never to 
 come to the theater this week," then whines: "What 
 if she's only a transient in town if I can't find her 
 to demand another fifty ? She should pay me alimony 
 or he should pay me alimony, somebody should pay me 
 alimony ! Rolling in wealth and I working!" 
 
 But the next day, putting his wits in action, Mr. 
 Montressor goes down to the theatre early and inquires 
 at the box-office who held stage box A the preceding 
 night, and is informed by the treasurer that he thinks 
 it was the Honorable James B. Guernsey. "Who- 
 ever it was, he had a stunning woman on his arm when 
 he came in, ' remarks the box-office official. 
 
 "In pale green, with a white opera bonnet and pink 
 roses ? " queries Claude, eagerly. 
 
 "Yes, I reckon you're about right," replies the 
 treasurer, " but I have'nt the eye for feminine toilettes 
 that you chaps on the stage have. To me, she looked 
 green and golden and shining." 
 
 But the description is near enough for the second 
 tenor, and the whereabouts of the Honorable James B. 
 Guernsey are very easy to discover. He soon finds 
 that the latter's address is Chamberlin's, and murmurs 
 to himself: " I'll tackle him first, he'll bleed easier. 1 
 won't be robbed of my wife for nothing."
 
 a 24 HER SENATOR. 
 
 But though Guernsey's address is easy to discover, 
 the statesman himself is not easily located. He is a 
 very busy man and has spent all his time in a Senate 
 Committee room where refreshments are sent in to 
 him from the Congressional restaurant. So Claude 
 is compelled to content himself with loitering in the 
 vicinity of Mr. Chamberlin's hostelry and would un- 
 doubtedly encounter the Senator when he returned to 
 dinner in the evening did not a lady sitting in the res- 
 taurant and waiting anxiously to see that same gentle- 
 man, chance to put eyes upon the second tenor as he 
 lounges about. 
 
 "Why is Claude here?" she thinks with a shud- 
 der. " Good Heavens! can it be to meet Mr. Guern- 
 sey ?" And knowing this must be stopped at any cost, 
 and being a woman who meets emergencies very 
 promptly and scientifically, Evelyn steps out to the 
 Thespian and lifting her veil remarks: " Mr. Montres- 
 sor, I believe ?" 
 
 " By Jove, Evie, I have been looking for you every- 
 where. I came here to see " 
 
 "Not me!" she returns coldly, "I don't live 
 here," then adds sternly: "You are at his hotel to 
 see the gentleman that was with me at the theatre 
 last evening," next remarks menacingly: "If you 
 approach him in any way you shall suffer for it in 
 your pocket ! " 
 
 " How dare you threaten me in such a way ? " whis- 
 pers Claude, then goes on reproachfully: "I who 
 would have shared your last crust with you." 
 
 "Yes, my last crust; that's what you want to share 
 now. But if you wish to get some of my bread and 
 butter, and perchance some of my cake, you'll listen 
 to my words not here, but at my house. Call on 
 me at seven o'clock this evening. Then I will speak 
 to you. This interview cannot be continued further
 
 HER SENATOR. 225 
 
 nere, out remember no word to this gentleman you 
 have called to see in my behalf," she sneers. "At 
 seven o'clock do you promise ? Here is my address." 
 
 Thus commanded, Mr. Montressor gives the neces- 
 sary assurance and goes away shrewdly cogitating: 
 " If she doesn't treat me properly I can always go to him 
 afterwards. " 
 
 From this interview Evelyn is driving away shudder- 
 ing: "That was a narrow chance !" Then she mur- 
 murs as if astounded : "And I never thought Claude 
 had brains enough for that! " 
 
 A moment later she thinks, analyzing the affair: " I 
 have given him the right hour. At seven Mr. Guern- 
 sey will be dining. I can finish with Claude in thirty 
 minutes. Then I shall be free to gain Guernsey's vote. 
 It's my last chance for it! I must have it.. For my 
 interview with my statesman I must have the arts and 
 beauty of even a Cleopatra." 
 
 Therefore arriving at her flat, she pens a few hasty 
 words to the Senator asking him to kindly visit her 
 after his dinner and before he goes to the Senate about 
 half-past eight o clock. 
 
 This being finished, at 5 p. M. she takes a light din- 
 ner for she wishes her brain to be as bright and viva- 
 cious as electricity itself, and her command of herself, 
 in thought, in word, even in sentiment and passion, to 
 be as complete as a fencer should have over nerves and 
 muscles when engaged in a duel to the death. 
 
 Her duenna, Evie is delighted to learn, has an en- 
 gagement that will occupy her at some embassy enter- 
 tainment until late in the night. Senora de Oriva is 
 going with some Spanish friends. Mrs. Montressor 
 hurries her off to them, and from now on devotes her- 
 self to making a toilette that shall charm the very 
 senses out of the law-maker. 
 
 Thus being prepared to enchant and allure man, she
 
 226 HER SENATOR. 
 
 makes a superb picture in her little parlor, awaiting the 
 coming of Mr. Montressor. 
 
 With her ex-husband she will have a monetary affair; 
 it will probably last about ten minutes. She is confident 
 Claude must be there sharp at the hour named, for he 
 performs this evening. But in this she is mistaken. 
 The Lucile Jervaise Company plays another piece in 
 its repertoire this night, and Mr. Montressor, as second 
 tenor, is only cast for a minor role in the third act. 
 Consequently, as actors almost invariably are behind 
 time in any appointment of their lives, this gentleman 
 does not come at seven. 
 
 She glances again and again at the ormolu clock as 
 it ticks on her onyx [mantelpiece, and mutters anx- 
 iously: "What detains him? If he does not come 
 until Mr. Guernsey!" and mocks herself, murmuring: 
 "Fool! Did Claude ever come on time to any 
 appointment ? Why he was even late at our 
 wedding. Dolt that I was not to place more time 
 between these interviews," and nervously plucks at 
 the lace thing she calls a handkerchief lying in her lap. 
 
 But just here she starts with sudden joy; there is 
 a ring at the front door. 
 
 No card is brought to her, for she has instructed 
 Pythagoras to immediately admit the gentleman. So 
 rising to receive Claude Montressor and give him his 
 congt and a check as quickly as possible, Evie suddenly 
 emits a little startled 'cry as, instead of her ex-hus- 
 band, comes in to her with naming eyes and crazy 
 Spanish manner, Gonzalo de Oriva, who is here to 
 rescue her from the endearments of the Scnador from 
 the Occidente. 
 
 He is in full evening dress with perfumed hair and 
 waxed mustachios for the enchanting of his lady-love; 
 but he stares astonished, for even in his dreams Evelyn 
 Montressor had never seemed so beautiful, as she stands
 
 HER SENATOR. 227 
 
 beneath the soft lamplight in an evening toilet that 
 makes her seem a fairy in lithe grace and airy pose, 
 though her exquisite form is rounded and adorned with 
 every contour that gives loveliness to woman ivory 
 shoulders, polished arms, fair neck and rounded bust, 
 gleaming and dazzling; one little foot in Cinderella 
 slipper and silken webbed hosiery advanced to meet him. 
 
 Even as he gazes Gonzalo gives a cry of Spanish love 
 and with the mad impetuosity of the Latin murmurs, 
 " Querida mia! " His eyes blaze as they devour her 
 loveliness, and throwing himself prostrate at her feet and 
 embracing her knees he murmurs hoarsely, "At last! " 
 
 To this wild attack she gives answer in a little 
 scream, and for a second is overcome with astonish- 
 ment and consternation. The next, sweeping her 
 laces and satins from his grasp, she stands coldly over 
 him, and, gazing haughtily in his upturned, pleading, 
 dark eyes, sneers : ' ' What brings you here ? I thought, 
 Senor de Oriva, you were boiling gelatine." 
 
 " Bah! " he mutters, rising to his feet; then goes on 
 sardonically and impetuously: " For you I have given 
 up gelatine, I have given up boiling! I boil no more 
 except with love and hate, love for you, mi amadora 
 hate for him!" And he would get his arm about her 
 alluring waist, but her face forbids him, as she falters 
 with white lips: 
 
 " Hate for whom? " 
 
 " For your lover. Santos ! don't deny it! " he breaks 
 out. "Last night at the theatre I saw his glances on 
 you. At Narragansett you favored him, but here I 
 know by my mother's letters that you love him no 
 more. His persecutions have made you pale, <&//>/?, but 
 thank the Virgin, not emaciated ! Each night you pray 
 to the devil. I have come to rescue you from him, to 
 th -ow my glove in his face, to say to him : * No more ! 
 not another word to her, for I, Gonzalo, the Spaniard,
 
 228 HER SENATOR. 
 
 stand between ! ' I, who have eaten my heart out fof 
 you these three months while I boiled ! But I have suf- 
 ficient money now for two months to make protesta- 
 tions to you. For that time I live only at your side. Be 
 happy, do not fear, I live only at your side ! " 
 
 And he would go on in this crazy Latin fashion, for 
 Evie's unearthly beauty has maddened the fiery Spaniard 
 and made his blood boil stronger than he had ever 
 made gelatine boil, did not, at this moment, Pythag- 
 oras gives several smart knocks at the door. 
 
 "Come in!" cries Evie, desperately, giving Gonzalo 
 a look that compels him to speak only with his eyes. 
 Then, a card being brought to her, she whispers to the 
 Spaniard words that make him ecstatic, for she says: 
 "Step into my boudoir," opening the hangings for 
 him, "this gentleman will detain me only a few min- 
 utes. " 
 
 ' ' You put me off for this Guernsey ? " he mutters 
 through grinding teeth. 
 
 "Not for him! a a gentleman on business. Don't act 
 like a madman or I shall hate you. Be quiet and I 
 shall " This last is emphasized by a glance that 
 makes his blood boil. 
 
 "You will loave me?" he whispers; his big eyes 
 lighting with torrid passion. "Loave me, Querida 
 mia ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," she says, archly, for she sees that in his 
 present mood Gonzalo de Oriva must be humored, not 
 snubbed. 
 
 "Then I obey; my life is yours!" murmurs the 
 Spaniard as he slips through the open portieres; but 
 as she closes the curtains she gives a little gasp 
 of dismay, for the impetuous Oriva has caught her 
 white hand and drawn it in to him, and even whils 
 Claude is shown into the room she feels the satin skit 
 of her bare arm, from gleaming shoulder to ivory
 
 HER SENATOR 29 
 
 wrist, covered with kisses by the ecstatic Spaniard. 
 
 " Evie, old girl, won't you give me your hand?" 
 says Mr. Montressor in a wounded voice, who has 
 come into the middle of the room, extending his. 
 
 " Not at present, sir!" returns Evelyn sternly, yet 
 struggling with an insane desire to laugh ; for at this 
 moment Gonzalo is again lavishing impassioned ca- 
 resses upon the imprisoned member. 
 
 Then with a quick, energetic jerk she plucks her 
 hand from the impetuous Spaniard, closes the door of 
 her boudoir and locks it, and, coming to the center of 
 the room, where her ex-husband is standing, dazed 
 with the luxury of the apartment, murmurs: "You 
 can now have my hand, Claude, if you will be a very 
 good boy and speak low. People may hear you. " 
 
 "Yes, I see he's in there," remarks Montressor 
 grimly. " That's why you locked the door." 
 
 "Nonsense," she says; then whispers: "Come to 
 business. You wish my financial aid, I presume. But 
 let me tell you I am very poor." 
 
 " Poor ! in this apartment ? Poor / you drive a car- 
 riage. POOR ! God help me ! then what am I ? " 
 
 " Poor in money, and if you don't heed my words, 
 poorer than ever after to-night," she falters appeal- 
 ingly; then adds hurriedly: " I have drawn a check for 
 two hundred dollars. It is half of what I have in the 
 bank. For that will you go away for two months and 
 never come near me ? Promise me, I beg you. Swear 
 it! Perchance at the end of that time I may be rich. 
 I have always been generous to you, am generous now 
 even permitting you to visit me you who have no 
 legal right to come near me, not even the right of 
 friendship." 
 
 But to her dismay and horror Claude, who has a 
 stagey way of doing things, seizes the check, tears it 
 into little bits and grinds it under his heel snarling:
 
 230 HER SENATOR. 
 
 "You offer me money when I offer you love /" For her 
 ethereal beauty has maddened him also. She is more 
 lovely, he thinks, than even when she stood by his side 
 his blushing bride. She is more adorable now that 
 he has lost her, than when she was his ; for Claude 
 Montressor always values most the things he has not. 
 
 So to-night in making this toilette for the ravishing 
 of the senses of the Honorable James B. Guernsey, 
 Evelyn has made herself too beautiful. She has 
 entranced Gonzalo, the Spaniard, until he is as a wild 
 man in the next room ; she now enchants her ex- 
 husband until in his frenzy this man who has come for 
 money will give up all else save passion. 
 
 For he breaks out at her with theatric gesture: "I 
 deny that you have the legal right to separate yourself 
 from me. No court shall divorce what God has joined! 
 As to marriage I am a CATHOLIC. The State cannot 
 sever the bonds of Mother Church ! I am a CATHOLIC 
 husband, I shall never give you up! To-day, even in 
 my own home," he makes the magnificent apartment his 
 domicile with a wave of the hand, " I take my stand for 
 ever! Your lover shall deal with me, the outraged 
 husband of the Roman Church. I shall demand from 
 him not his money but your love. Then, when he has 
 slunk out of yonder door, I shall turn to you and 
 whisper, ' To my arms, quick ! ' and if you love me 
 very much, by Jove ! I may forgive you, unhappy 
 woman! " 
 
 At this melodramatic rhapsody Evie gazes too aston- 
 ished for one moment to speak, half inclined to laugh, 
 half thinking him crazy. But crazy or not, this 
 Spaniard and this divorce 1 will ruin her if Guernsey sees 
 them before he gives his vote. Of this one thing she 
 is certain. 
 
 Then with a sudden flash that wondrous intelligence 
 that deitate instinct that in feminine brains beats all
 
 HER SENATOR. 23! 
 
 tne logic of this world, and in supreme crises often 
 steals victory from defeat, whispers in her mind: 
 "Match this crazy Spaniard against thy stagey ex- 
 husband !" 
 
 So, rising to the emergency and playing Eve for 
 his undoing, she whispers: "Claude, you will expel 
 from this house my lover. That, I believe, is the name 
 by which you dignify him and insult me. Go into that 
 room, meet him there, kick him from the house; I 
 give you leave. For now, since I have seen you, mem- 
 ory comes back to me, and I " She checks her- 
 self, holding her handkerchief to her fair face, that is 
 writhing with suppressed laughter. 
 
 " You love me ? God bless you, you darling wifey ; 
 you love me ?" he mutters; and, gazing on her superb 
 beauty, smites her with blushing rage as he adds, in 
 caddish complacency: "Good God, Evie! I didn't 
 think you were so catchy. It's all of ten months 
 since you have caressed me." 
 
 And she, snarling in her heart, "You coward, to 
 remind me ! " forces herself to coquettish witchery and 
 murmurs: " Get my admirer out quick, Claude." 
 
 ' ' Won't I ?" he whispers. ' ' Out he goes, out he goes, 
 and when I come back " 
 
 Here his eyes look on her until she shudders: "I 
 hope the Cuban kills him." 
 
 Unlocking the door and drawing the portieres apart, 
 Claude Montressor with the easy assurance of a hus- 
 band in his own home, strides into the next apartment 
 and confronting Gonzalo, the Spaniard, says in a "my 
 house is my castle " voice : " May I inquire, sir, by 
 what right you enter my flat and make yourself at 
 home in my wife's boudoir ? " 
 
 "Your wife s boudoir!" shrieks Gonzalo as he 
 springs to his feet. 
 
 "Certainly, my wife, Mrs, Evelyn Montressor. I
 
 23* HER SENATOR. i 
 
 am Mr. Montressor. Permit me," and Claude hands 
 the astounded Spaniard his card. 
 
 Then to Evie's ears come these words, in quick suc- 
 cession and excited voices: 
 
 ' ' Your wife ! Caramba ! She is a widow ! " 
 
 " Hang me, who are you, Spaniard? I thought you 
 were Guernsey." 
 
 " Diablo ! I am the man who lores your wife! " 
 
 "Oho! then there are two of you, are there? So 
 his nibs has a rival." 
 
 " Santos y demonios ! I demand to see her! " 
 
 "My wife? I have sent her to her room," comes 
 through the portieres in Claude's easy and most de- 
 bonair voice. Then Evie bites her lips as she hears 
 her ex-husband sneer: "I had no idea Mrs. Mon- 
 tressor had been running such a pace in my ab- 
 sence. But now I am at home again I shall keep her 
 in the traces, I warrant you. I came here to throw 
 out Guernsey, but you'll do just as well. Out you go ! " 
 
 " Not until I have spoken . " 
 
 "To my wife? Impossible! Stop grinding your 
 damned teeth at me. Since fair means won't do, I'll try 
 foul. See this fist, Spaniard ? " 
 
 On this scene Evie gazes through the portieres and, 
 though she almost feels it is the crisis of her life, 
 laughs as if her heart would break. But, over her 
 shoulder there is sound of the heavy breathing of a 
 man in agony, and looking up she knows it is the crisis 
 of her life, for she sees the ashen face of the Honorable 
 James B. Guernsey, who, with twitching lips is mut- 
 tering hoarsely: "Hiszw/V/ He says you are HIS 
 WIFE ! " 
 
 Then come to them, Spanish execrations and a crash- 
 ing sound mingled with a cry : " A cuchilla ! " 
 
 With strong arm and quick step, Guernsey pushes 
 past her and is just in time; for Gonzalo is rising from
 
 HER SENATOR. 33 
 
 a knock-down blow and has death ana vengeance in his 
 eye, and a long glittering dagger in his hand. Even 
 before Evie can speak the Western man has struck the 
 knife from the Spaniard's hand, and with a muttered, 
 "You murdering varmint !" has hustled the amorous 
 Gonzalo into the hall and propelled him out of the 
 front door, which he closes with a bang. 
 
 Returning from this, Guernsey steps up to the 
 astounded Claude and says huskily, "You called your- 
 self this lady's husband, sir ! Have you a better right 
 here than I ? " 
 
 " Before God I am her husband." 
 
 " Ah ! " falters the Senator. " I remember you now 
 at the theater." Then he turns his stricken eyes 
 upon the beautiful creature who stands with throbbing 
 bosom gazing spellbound at the two men, and sud- 
 denly murmurs in horrified reproach: "By heavens, it 
 was the sight of him that disconcerted you ; that's why 
 you dropped your playbill on the stage; that's why 
 you said his infernal singing grated on your ears. 
 Madame, I take my leave ! " 
 
 But she is between him and the door, muttering 
 hoarsely: "Before God that dastard lies! I am no 
 man's wife ! He has no right here in my home ! " 
 
 "Then, sir," says the Senator sternly, turning to 
 Claude, "since this lady says you are a liar, it is you 
 who must take your leave QUICK! " 
 
 "I ? Never, you hoary-headed libertine!" mutters 
 Claude in his strongest stage voice. But Mr. Mon- 
 tressor has forgotten the rapid exit of the Spaniard. 
 Stage muscles are not the muscles of the Rockies, 
 and Claude goes out even quicker than Gonzalo, get- 
 ting two savage salutes as he leaves the front door. 
 
 Returning from this, Guernsey meets a woman who 
 is gazing at him with a strange admiration in her eyes; 
 for the Senator has a, breezy Western way of doing
 
 234 HER SENATOP 
 
 things, and he has kicked out Claude Montressor in 
 even better shape than he did Gonzalo, the Spaniard. 
 
 To her he mutters: "Tell me all about that man 
 who who called you his wife;" then adds, warn- 
 ingly: "And by the Eternal, let it be the truth, the 
 whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so God help us 
 both!" 
 
 Looking at him, Evie knows it must be the truth 
 now, all of it, as regards Claude Montressor, and whis- 
 pers, " I was his wife." 
 
 "My God!" 
 
 " I am his wife no more. I am his divorced widow, 
 legally, solemnly, by the laws of New York for his 
 sins, not for mine. See, this will prove I tell you the 
 living truth !" For, at her words, Guernsey has faltered 
 and sunk down upon a chair and turned his eyes un- 
 compromisingly from her. 
 
 In a trice she has flown to her desk and a moment 
 later the Senator finds himself reading with glistening 
 eyes the decree of divorce in all its legal formula that 
 makes Evelyn Montressor a free woman. 
 
 " So the scalawag treated you badly ?" he mutters. 
 
 "Listen!" answers Evie, and with every art that 
 can bring man's sympathy she tells him of her short, 
 unhappy married life, ending: "I supported him. 
 With my voice I sung the bread into his mouth and he 
 used even the money of my labor to lavish upon those 
 who made him untrue to me." 
 
 Then Guernsey astonishes yet relieves her, for he 
 says in businesslike voice: "Well, this paper proves 
 you are quit of him for good;" adding grimly " Mr. 
 Claude came here, I suppose, to levy an assessment ?" 
 
 "Yes, but when he saw me, he he forgot that he 
 had come here for money," stammers Evie, growing 
 embarrassed and blushing under the senator's gaze. 
 
 For that gentleman looking on her mutters ' 'Humph !
 
 HER SENATOR. 235 
 
 No Qoubt. I think I understand! " and his eyes em- 
 phasize his words. 
 
 "Yes, I offered him half the money 1 have in the 
 world if he would but go away and leave me. Not 
 that he has any right to it, but I I couldn't bear that 
 you should imagine that I had perhaps deceived you in 
 in permitting you to think my husband was dead, not 
 divorced. " Then she adds appealingly, " Now you will 
 never think well of me again! " 
 
 "Won't I?" says the Senator cheerily, looking 
 on her radiant loveliness, for Evie is regaining her 
 spirits and her arch witchery is returning to her, 
 and she is playing this scene very well, giving the 
 gentleman some tender glances that make his big 
 heart thump. 
 
 But the Westerner goes on in businesslike voice: 
 "That was quite a little sum of money you offered 
 him ? " 
 
 "No, only two hundred dollars!" 
 
 "What! two hundred dollars, half the money you 
 have, when I sold your Gelatine out for you ?" 
 
 "You thought you did," she falters. "I directed 
 them to hold it. Every share of it is now at my 
 brokers, and to-night I see I am going to be very 
 poor. From your face, I see it ! " For Guernsey's jaw 
 has fallen at her words, and he is looking at the bust 
 of Daniel Webster to avoid her pleading eyes. 
 
 "You are going to vote against the bill I know it!" 
 she cries. " I know it by the way you gaze at that 
 dead statesman's face and try to think yourself a 
 patriot. You have deceived me! " 
 
 "I? Great Scotti how?" 
 
 " Because you said you had read the statistics, and 
 that gelatine was cheaper now to the people of the United 
 States than ever in the history of the world. I heard 
 you say that, I believed you would vote as you spoke
 
 236 HER SENATOR. 
 
 I trusted in you, and am betrayed." Then she breaks 
 out with woman's logic: " You have not the right to 
 speak one way and vote another." 
 
 "Curse it, madame," he says savagely, for her ap- 
 peals make him angry, "a Senator of the United States 
 has a right to vote any way he pleases. " 
 
 "Very well, go away from me punish me, if you 
 like, because I have a living husband," she murmurs in 
 broken voice* then places hand upon his arm and turns 
 eyes of such witchery upon him in their beseeching 
 beauty that the Solon's heart beats very hard, as he 
 fears if he destroys her fortune she may revenge her- 
 self upon his love. This weakness he struggles against, 
 turning his head desperately away from the charm of 
 her pathetic face toward the bust of the statesman. If 
 he looks upon her loveliness he may succumb. 
 
 And she, mistaking his motive, jeers him for one 
 instant, laughing: "That's right! Seek your inspira- 
 tion from Daniel Webster up there, turn from my 
 agony to his imperturbability. See if bronze is as 
 grateful to you as living flesh and blood !" then adds 
 brokenly: "Good night! Go to your duties, Mister 
 Senator," and, turning away from him, passes the 
 portieres to her boudoir. 
 
 Then, from out the curtains Guernsey hears those 
 sounds that always call manhood to the side of suffer- 
 ing, sobbing beauty. 
 
 "Poor little darling," he mutters. "What a cursed 
 brute I've been! " 
 
 And in one second he is after her, and laying hand 
 upon her white shoulder, whispers: " Going away in a 
 huff, without a kiss foi Evie's Senator ? Look here, 
 little girl, let's discuss this matter without Dan Web- 
 ster coming in between us." 
 
 And before Evelyn knows just what takes place she 
 finds herself sitting on his knee, and he stroking hw
 
 HER SENATOR. 237 
 
 hair and saying: " Let's discuss tkis matter quietly, 
 calmly sit still, won't you?" 
 
 " How can I be calm when after to-night I shall not 
 have a roof over my head, that one word from your 
 lips might save forme? I wouldn't have held the stock 
 if I hadn't heard you indicate you meant to vote for 
 the Gelatine schedule. Now I " she is very desperate 
 here, she will carry her point "shall go away from 
 Washington, for I cannot afford to live in this luxury. 
 I must earn my bread." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " By going on the stage! " 
 
 "The the opera-bouffe stage?" he falters. 
 
 "Yes, the opera-bouffe stage! I can make my liv- 
 ing at that; I have had offers; you have heard me 
 sing." 
 
 "What! go on like that prima donna I saw last 
 night; perchance, good gosh, in tights? mutters the 
 statesman, horrified; "the eyes of a thousand men 
 looking at your beauty. By Heavens! I will not per- 
 mit it." 
 
 " How can you prevent it ?" 
 
 J How? By voting so you won't hate me for 
 impoverishing you." Then his eyes light up with 
 desperate passion, for the beauty of the exquisite 
 creature whose fair form rests against his, whose 
 white arm is even now around his neck, whose sapphire 
 eyes are gazing into his, maddens him, and he mutters 
 hoarsely: " If I say 'aye,' in the Senate Chamber to- 
 night, will you say 'aye,' to the question I ask of you 
 when I return from it? " 
 
 "Yes!" she whispers, feeling that she has now 
 indeed burnt ships and bridges behind her. 
 
 " Then swear to it ! " he continues solemnly. " If I 
 say 'aye ' to the gelatine duties, that you say ' aye ' to 
 what I ask you? "
 
 3$S HER SENATOR. 
 
 " I swear it! " she whispers desperately, and her eyes 
 blaze in triumph for she knows she has delivered "the 
 goods." 
 
 But even as she speaks, she shudders at the price she 
 is paying for this man's vote. But she won't think of 
 that thought means repentance; she goes on with 
 excited rapidity : ' ' Quick ! The bill will be coming up 
 for vote; do not let it lose yours by your absence. 
 You keep your word, I will keep mine! By this kiss 
 Jim, i WILL KEEP MINE!" 
 
 What man could resist such clinging loveliness, her 
 heart beating against his, her witching voice pleading 
 to his ear, her glorious eyes burning up his soul? Not 
 a great big Westerner, with his best girl's head upon 
 his breast. 
 
 "It's a bargain, Evie!" he mutters, " By this kiss it's 
 a bargain!" 
 
 Then going out from her he communes with himself 
 even as he drives down Connecticut Avenue en route 
 for the Capitol : ' ' Hang me if I'll be able to look people 
 in the face after this vote," but a moment after thinks 
 complacently: Yes, I will! The gelatine duties are all 
 right. Gelatine is cheaper than ever. It's a good thing 
 for the country! To-night I and a majority of the 
 Senate will say so and who the dickens will dare to 
 contradict us ? Besides, I love her too well to lose her 
 for half a cent a pound on imported gelatine." 
 
 And as Doc Guernsey reasons so do many other of 
 his brother lawmakers of the nation this night, upon 
 which the vote on the Gelatine schedule comes up be- 
 fore the Senate of the United States. 
 
 When it is a question of a great monopoly or the 
 people, who generally gets the worst of it in the halls 
 of legislation ?
 
 HER SENATOR. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE BATTLE FOR THE MAN. 
 
 And Evie in her hour of victory is she happy ? 
 
 For one moment, as Guernsey's footsteps die away, 
 she is and whispers with beaming eyes and glowing 
 cheeks: "I've won ! I've won! I've WON ! Gelatine 
 will come flying up. I am rich ! rich! RICH ! " And 
 claps her hands and dances with fairy feet in blithe- 
 some glee. 
 
 Then suddenly over her arms, face, neck, and bosom 
 comes in one mighty carmine wave an awful burning, 
 blazing blush; and she falters: " Merciful God ! what 
 have I paid for it ? If he says ' aye ' to-night in the 
 Senate Chamber then I say ' aye ' to him afterward in 
 this room. My Heaven ! what will he ask me ? I 
 know, I know!" and she throws herself down, careless 
 of crushing satins and tearing laces, and grovels on an 
 ottoman in her boudoir. 
 
 "Yes, that's what he's going to ask me. I know ! 
 He's the true son of his father ! " she mutters with set 
 teeth. " He has my promise ! What do such men always 
 demand from women ? Throw away that which you 
 prize the most, they cry; cast down your virtue if you 
 want our aid! " 
 
 Then growing calmer she sneers at herself: " Could 
 I not have foreseen it ? Was it not in my mind when 
 I laughed months ago and said I must have my 
 Senatoi ? Did not that also mean my Senator would 
 have me ? Why should he think better of me than I dp 
 of myself ? He knows me now, a divorcee, not a 
 widow! Within this very room he has seen the man 
 who once had right to me. " Then she laughs sarcaf
 
 24<> HER SENATOR. 
 
 tically, "Shall Jim Guernsey win his battle because 
 I am fool enough to keep a bargain that is 
 wrong to keep? Pooh! I'll toss his father's infamy 
 in his face ! " next starts up and mutters fiercely : 
 ' ' It is the descended feud of the Corsican ! His father 
 robbed me of happiness and my sister! Now I rob 
 the son of his career and raise my own fortunes upon 
 his downfall. If I make public his telegram about 
 Gelatine stock who will believe him, even if he 
 make oath ! I have the right to hate him. He must 
 be bad, then why is he good to me ? He's doubly 
 bad. Scoundrel and hypocrite both ! Thank God, I 
 
 hate him ! hate him ! HATE HIM ! For if I loved him " 
 
 Here her face grows dazed with a new and incanny ter- 
 ror, and she sobs out: "Oh, God, not that! No, no! 
 That would be /to horrible!" but muses, strangely: 
 " How grand he was when he threw the Spaniard 
 across the hall ! How big Jim looked when he seized 
 puny Claude and kicked him yes, I saw him kick him 
 out of the front door! Sometimes he seems to be 
 noble. Noble 1 When he sells his vote for my kisses, 
 
 and yet Oh, Heaven ! how sweet they are ! No, 
 
 no! Nonsense! When I think of his father, of course 
 I hate him, hate him, HATE HIM! James Guernsey 
 
 shall kiss me no more, for if he did Oh, powers 
 
 of mercy! if he did /" And some weird and mighty 
 terror seems to dominate her now. 
 
 So, rending herself with conflicting passions, Evie, 
 made beautiful by anguish, lies tossing on the 
 ottoman. 
 
 She has half succeeded in forcing herself to calmness 
 when there comes to her ears the jingle of her door-bell 
 and she springs up, dismay upon her face, her hand 
 clutching her beating heart, and murmurs: "The vote 
 is over. Oh, my soul! Jim Guernsey has come to 
 claim his promise, to get his price t "
 
 HER SENATOR. 24! 
 
 But Pythagoras, her black page, brings in to her on 
 a silver-salver a card. Glancing at the name, uncer- 
 tainty flies over her face, and she says faintly: " Not 
 at home ! " 
 
 The next instant determination takes the place of 
 doubt. She calls the boy back to her and says sternly: 
 "Show the lady into the parlor and tell her I will see 
 her in a moment ! " 
 
 And Evie's face grows set as she wonders: "Why is 
 she here ? Why does she come to me ?" For this is 
 what she looks upon: 
 
 "Is it because" a light of joy comes in her eyes 
 " is it because Jim asked her to come ? Is he going 
 to crush me with goodness ? " To this question she 
 answers, wildly, "No! no! He must be a villain, he 
 shall be a villain. I want him to be a villain ! That's 
 the only thing that will make me feel that I am not 
 altogether despicable. If he asks me to be his mistress 
 I shall have the right to dispise him, and yet Heaven 
 help me ! I have promised whatever the villain asks. 
 That's what he must be, a villain! Sending his sister 
 to greet the woman he is going to make his mistress.
 
 24* HER SENATOR. 
 
 That's the way they do it, asking their wives or sisters 
 to meet the ladies of their love, to keep them im- 
 maculate before the public. That's the senatorial 
 way! How I despise him! But if he can play the 
 hypocrite, so can I!" Then she jeers: " I will see 
 Miss Gawk from the West. " 
 
 So, with these very pleasant sentiments in her 
 mind, Evelyn Montressor, a supercilious disdain on 
 her delicate features, steps into her parlor to meet 
 surprise. 
 
 She has had a few of them this evening, but this, to 
 use a Western expression, "takes the chips." 
 
 A bright, dashing, resolute girl rises to meet her, 
 an elegance in her manner that is not destroyed by the 
 direct frankness of her hazel eyes that beam direct and 
 strong and look upon Mrs. Montressor perchance 
 not too kindly. 
 
 Were the young lady not holding herself in icy con- 
 trol she would be a picture of gracious girlhood. Her 
 eyes are winning, the pose of her body is unaffected ; 
 every movement of her lithe limbs beneath the tightly- 
 fitting, tailor-made gown of soft blue, that has even 
 now the dust of hasty journey upon it, is full of grace- 
 ful activity, mingled with frontier decision. For 
 Mattie Guernsey is as breezy as the Rocky Mountain 
 air that has blown her brown curls about, ever since 
 she was a little girl; and though she has the cultiva- 
 tion of education and travel, beneath it is the strength 
 of character that comes from self-dependence, she hav- 
 ing ridden over the prairies when Indians were danger- 
 ous, and having conquered her own mustangs and made 
 them her servants. Her frank glance now is deter- 
 mined and not friendly. 
 
 "You have come ?" murmurs Mrs. Montressor 
 
 suggestively. 
 
 " On account of my brother," remarks the girl.
 
 HER SENATOR, 243 
 
 '* He he asked you to call ? That is very kind," 
 returns Evelyn extending her hand. 
 
 This the young lady does not take, but says: " No, 
 he did not ask me to call. But still I am here on his 
 account." Then she suddenly falters, "You you are 
 the lady of the portrait. He learnt to love your face 
 before he saw you. And I I induced him to buy it 
 because because I was a fool," and Mattie Guernsey's 
 brown eyes have anguish in them. 
 
 "I I don't understand you. You have seen your 
 brother ? " asks Mrs. Montressor, scarce understanding 
 the other's emotion. 
 
 ''Not for a month. I only arrived in Washington 
 this evening, scarce half an hour ago. Jim is at the 
 Capitol; the Senate is in session to-night," answers 
 the girl fighting herself to coldness and growing once 
 more haughty. 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 "Therefore, you will pardon my Western bluntness 
 by asking you to read this newspaper," continues Mat- 
 tie Guernsey, and searches in her reticule. 
 
 All the time Evie's eyes have been devouring the girl, 
 her graces, her beauties, from her chestnut hair and 
 hazel eyes to her exquisite but agile figure, and once or 
 twice as Mattie has made some quick gesture, Evelyn 
 has passed her hand over her forehead as if trying 
 to brush away something that came into her mind. 
 
 "This paper oblige me by reading it, madame," 
 says the young lady in austere coldness, offering her a 
 Western journal. 
 
 "Certainly," replies Mrs. Montressor, " though your 
 manner is curious. Please be seated. " She waves her 
 hand to a chair.* 
 
 " I prefer to remain standing, madame. Read it .'" 
 
 The words are uttered in a tone that Evic is unac- 
 customed to.
 
 244 HER SENATOR. 
 
 " Oh, certainly, remain standing if you prefer it. I 
 suppose that must be Western manners. But I prefer 
 my comfort," sneers Mrs. Montressor, sinking languid- 
 ly into the softest seat she can find, and glancing care- 
 lessly at the Silvcropolis Buzzard. 
 
 The article that meets her eye makes her start. It 
 is along one which displays in its head-lines, in biggest 
 type, well leaded, the following pleasant announce- 
 ments: IN THE TOILS OF THE SIREN DOC GUERNSEY'S 
 
 FALL FROM GRACE CAPTURED BY A WIDOW'S ALLURE- 
 MENTS THE GELATINE TRUST COULD NOT PHASE DOC 
 GUERNSEY, BUT THE FASCINATING EVIE WAS TOO MUCH 
 FOR HIS NIBS. 
 
 This homily Evelyn reads, line by line, for all of its 
 two columns. It suggests that Guernsey, Populoso's 
 favorite son and trusted senator, has fallen victim in 
 Washington to the allurements of a woman of unknown 
 antecedents, but who is undoubtedly an agent of the 
 gigantic monopoly that is engaged at present in cor- 
 rupting the Senate ; that lust has conquered the young 
 political giant from the West; and it hints in no very 
 equivocal terms at the price the beautiful widow has 
 paid for Guernsey's vote. 
 
 It is as nasty an article as was ever printed in an 
 American newspaper. Each line an insinuation, a 
 slur, or a lie; every sentence of it stinging Evie more 
 sharply than if it were a whip lashing her delicate 
 shoulders. 
 
 Even as she reads she knows from whose pen this 
 must have come, and thinks: "If I had Algeria Tol- 
 stock in my grasp!" Then it suddenly flies through 
 her: " He must not see it until his vote is given." 
 
 So, putting the paper coolly in her pocket, Evelyn 
 remarks nonchalantly, though her lips quiver: "I have 
 read the flattering article you have been so kind as to 
 bring me. Do you wish to supplement it by any
 
 HER SENATOR. 245 
 
 remarks of your own, Miss Guernsey? I don't think 
 it will be pleasant reading for your brother." 
 
 " It rests with you whether my brother ever sees this 
 attack or not," returns the young lady coldly. 
 
 "With me?" When it has been published by the 
 thousands!" 
 
 " Have you seen any telegraphic comments on it 
 from Silveropolis ?" queries the girl suddenly and anx- 
 iously. 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " Thank God ! Then look ! The date of that paper is 
 three days ago. Would not such a scandal as this have 
 been telegraphed in full to the Washington papers, had 
 this journal ever reached the public eye ? 
 
 "Undoubtedly!" says Evelyn, surprise upon herface. 
 
 " Very well, then," cries the frontier girl in triumph, 
 " you hold in your hand, madame, the only copy extant 
 
 Of it! FOR I HAVE SUPPRESSED THAT PAPER!" 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "Yes, I!" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "How? By crushing the Silveropolis Buzzard! Lis- 
 ten to me, it may be a lesson to you," says the girl, a 
 menace in her voice. "Four days ago Mr. Barton 
 Jordan, my brother's partner, my brother's friend, my 
 " she checks herself here, but with blushing cheeks 
 goes resolutely on: "came to me and told me that that 
 blackmailing sheet would the next morning blazon to 
 the people of my State the news of my brother's 
 shame. He did not tell me all its vile insinuations. 
 He couldn't do that. No man could tell a young girl 
 all of that article, even though she was his " Miss 
 Guernsey checks herself again, then utters meaningly: 
 " But I understood. I said: 'Bart, I will smash those 
 forms and destroy that paper before the article is 
 printed. Tell me the best way to do it.' And he
 
 246 HER SENATOR. 
 
 answered, 'I have struck it! The sheriff holds a judg- 
 ment belonging to Joe Martin over the Buzzard.' 
 Then I cried, 'We will buy the judgment and 
 foreclose on the paper ! Joe Martin will sell 
 quick enough. To-night we will seize the Silveropolis 
 Buzzard! ' Bart loves my brother as well as I. He did 
 it. Before a single paper of its morning edition was 
 issued we had possession of the presses, type, and fix- 
 tures. I smashed those forms myself. With my own 
 hands I destroyed every printed scandal but this one, 
 that I brought here to show my brother what was go- 
 ing to be said about him if he did not live the life of a 
 self-respecting man and honest legislator. With that 
 paper in my pocket I came here, two days and nights 
 by railroad, to snatch him from destruction and and 
 you ! Jim was engaged at the Senate. Then it sud- 
 denly occurred to me for my brother rather thinks that 
 a man should do what he pleases in this world that Jim 
 might be more difficult to control than you. So I said, 
 ' I will go to her, i WILL SUPPRESS THE WOMAN! ' " 
 
 "You are evidently laboring under a mistake as to 
 the kind of woman you have come to suppress," replies 
 Mrs. Montressor sarcastically, for the blood has risen 
 in her face as she has listened to her arraignment, and 
 the two confront each other to fight it out. 
 
 "I am laboring under no mistake. Your name is 
 mentioned in that article. I said, ' The woman may 
 have some good in her; then she will give him up to 
 me, and let our honest, noble Jim be once more his 
 own true self.' Believe me, I appreciate his tempta 
 tkm when I look upon you. Spare this man that we 
 love out West, take your beauty from out his eyes, 
 release him from your spell ! " 
 
 "You are complimentary," sneers Evelyn; then 
 suddenly she cries in angry tone: "Why do you take 
 such an interest in Jim Guernsey ? "
 
 HER SENATOR. 247 
 
 "Because I love him!" answers the girl proudly. 
 
 " Love him -you ? " And for one moment Evie looks 
 as if she would spring toward her, for a new passion 
 is in her soul, one that frightens her and horrifies her. 
 "Jealous of Doc Guernsey! Jealous! My Heaven! 
 that means love ; that means despair! " Whatever she 
 does now she does not care. Whichever way the battle 
 goes, she loses! If she destroys this man's career 
 she loves him ; if she turns her back on him, it will 
 be with a breaking heart. Checking her hand, she 
 smites the girl with her tongue, muttering: "You love 
 him ! Not as a sister, eh, but as a woman ? '' 
 
 " Horrible!" shudders Mattie. " He is my brother!" 
 
 "Pooh! he has no blood of yours in his veins. 
 You love him as a woman !" 
 
 " No, no; only as the best, the kindest friend, who 
 has dandled me on his knee when I was a child, 
 who has risked his life to save mine half a dozen times 
 in the perils of the West. I love him, yes, I am proud 
 of it, but as a brother!" 
 
 "As a woman, you love!" 
 
 " That is untrue!" answers the girl, sternly. " My 
 love as a woman is for another man." 
 
 "Aha! Barton Jordan, who accompanied you to 
 Washington ?" 
 
 "Yes. Why not?" I am his promised wife, 
 though Bart begged me not to come here to sully my- 
 self by seeing you." 
 
 :< No further insult! You have said sufficient to 
 make me hate you, to make me crush you," mutters 
 Evie, with flashing eyes. 
 
 "Crush me ? You don't know me," remarks Miss 
 Guernsey, the calm look of the Western fighter coming 
 in her eyes. Then she goes on in that quiet voice 
 whose tone ofttimes means death: "Listen to my 
 ultimatum, madame. Yo" l ave Washington to-night,
 
 248 HER SENATOR. 
 
 and never speak to my brother in this life again!" 
 
 "And if not ?" 
 
 "If not, I shall remain here till he returns to you. 
 Then I shall tell him what I think of you, and what I 
 think of him ! Besides, I will pay you money. " 
 
 At this last insult Mrs. Montressor's eyes flash bane- 
 fully. She cries: "That proves you didn't know me 
 when you came here, but you shall go away better 
 informed." And her glance growing cold, cruel, and 
 pitiless, she continues: "Listen to my ultimatum! 
 You leave Washington within the hour, and take your 
 fianct with you, my meddling chit. You say no word 
 to your brother concerning this interview, or of this 
 paper I have in my pocket." 
 
 "And if not?" returns the girl, coldly, her eyes 
 answering the other's. 
 
 "If not, I shall tell Jim Guernsey that you have 
 come here to insult me." 
 
 "I've thought of that," answers Mattie, deter- 
 minedly. " Jim can't be angry with me for doing my 
 duty." 
 
 " That's not all I shall tell him." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "I shall tell him that Mr. Barton Jordan has come 
 to Washington to put his hand between Mr. Guernsey 
 and myself. That Mr. Barton Jordan doesn't think 
 the Senator from Populoso is able ' to run his own 
 wagon ' that's the way you put it out West, I believe. 
 That Mr. Barton Jordan has brought you here to 
 separate us. That Mr. Barton Jordan has sent you 
 here to my house to insult me shamefully, cruelly, un- 
 provokedly, and with malice aforethought. " 
 
 " No, no, that is not true ! that was my own idea! " 
 
 "Won't your brother believe it is true? Do you 
 wish Mr. Barton Jordan and Mr. James Guernsey to 
 meet after that? They are both Western men, I be^
 
 HER SENATOR. 249 
 
 lieve, and quick at the trigger," jeers Evie in unholy 
 glee, laughing the laugh of despair. 
 
 To this the girl cries out : " My Heaven ! Not that ! 
 Whether they fought or not, whether they killed each 
 other or no, they would never be friends again, my 
 brother and the man I love. Don't do that! Go from 
 here, I beg of you. Leave Washington! You have 
 done enough to disgrace us all ! " Then she again 
 makes Evelyn shudder, for she goes on: "You want 
 money. That's what every woman of your class wants. 
 I have a private fortune of my own, left me by the 
 noble father of the man you would ruin. I will sacri- 
 fice it all to save poor Jim from your clutches. It 
 is more than you can get from the corporation for 
 which you [work, it will give you enough to be rich. 
 Far from here, in Europe, you may play the princess and 
 beguile other men by your accursed beauty." 
 
 But the other interrupts her in snarling voice: "The 
 noble father of Jim Guernsey ! You call him that he 
 who stole my birthright from me when I was a helpless 
 child ? Overhand Guernsey, who made me what I 
 am ! " 
 
 "Yes, Overhand Guernsey ! " cries Mattie. " He who 
 gave me my birthright and made me what I am. Look 
 at me! Behold me!" 
 
 And Evelyn, gazing, sees the acme of beautiful, 
 fresh girlhood glaring at her. "You see me?" says 
 the girl. "Do I seem the child of a pauper? Do I 
 look as if when an infant I had been beaten, starved? 
 I can remember, though it was long ago, how, in the 
 horror of an asylum, where they treated children like 
 brutes, where they starved them until my poor sister 
 sold the Bible to give me bread " 
 
 "Sold the Bible to give you bread!" This is a 
 scream of despair, astonishment, rapture 
 
 "Yes," answers Mattie, "and from that horror
 
 350 HER SENATOR. 
 
 the father of this man whom you would ruin came to 
 me and took me in his arms and carried me away from 
 the clutches of a fiend called Mawley " 
 
 "Mawley!" gasps Evelyn. "Mawley!" then 
 shrieks: "Mathilde! Mathilde ! " 
 
 " Mathilde ! My name when I was French ! " stam- 
 mers the girl astounded. " Yes, I can just remember 
 the name my sister called me." 
 
 But she changes her tone here, for a pair of snowy 
 arms are round her neck and with the strength of loath- 
 ing Mattie tears off the grasping hands and smites 
 the woman who would caress her, with these awful 
 words: "You vile thing ! How dare you pollute me 
 with your touch ? " 
 
 " Pollute you ! Mathilde, I am your sister ! It was 
 I who sold the Bible to keep you from starving. 
 Don't you remember ? Don't you remember Evie, 
 Mignonnette ? " 
 
 And the other looking at her, as if dazed, 
 screams: " Mignonnette ! my pet name, my French 
 name that my sister called me when we were happy 
 in Paris." Then opening her arms, whispers, Soeur 
 Cherie ! " 
 
 And suddenly the white arms are round her once 
 again with mighty clasp, and this time they remain, 
 and Mattie Guernsey murmurs: " My sister ! " 
 
 But these words come faintly to Evie's ears, and the 
 two almost faint and sink down together as their lips 
 meet in sisters' kiss for the first time since Mawley's 
 cruel hands had parted them. 
 
 And they are as two crazy girls, each having found 
 what she had been seeking for in all the world; and 
 they lie panting, breast to breast, lavishing on each 
 other the wild caresses of an astounded joy. 
 
 Then they get to telling childish stories to each 
 other, saying: "Do you remember that?" And laugh-
 
 HER SENATOR. 251 
 
 ing: " This is how you used to tickle me you naughty 
 one," and Evie kisses a little mole on Mattie's neck, 
 prattling: " Mignonnette, I should have known you by 
 this; you remember sister's love spot !" and kisses 
 it again. 
 
 Then strange power of love, Mattie is sobbing on 
 her sister's heart and begging her to forgive her and 
 murmuring: "I must have been mad, wild, to have 
 doubted your noble eyes. Your looks were the same 
 when you faced my lies as when you shielded me from 
 cruel Mawley. " And she rises up and strides about in 
 righteous indignation, crying: "Ah, if I had the 
 Editor here ! That vile paper has slandered you, Saur 
 Cherie as well as him." 
 
 But this is not so comforting as it should be to Evie, 
 who sighs: "The world doesn't love me as you do, 
 Mignonnette. " 
 
 "Aye, that it doesn't," cries Mattie. "But now 
 Jim must know I have found my sister and be happy, 
 too. And if he loves you oh ! if Jim loves you, fancy 
 what that will mean for me what joy, what happi- 
 ness!" 
 
 And the girl claps her hands and laughs, the merry 
 ripples in her young voice beating a requiem on her 
 sister's heart. 
 
 "Yes, find him ! Quick, to your hotel ! He will 
 doubtless call on you the moment he knows you are 
 here," cries Evie half crazy at the thoughts that run 
 through her reeling brain. " Don't stay here, find 
 Jim ! " 
 
 And, though it is difficult, she puts her sister away 
 with feverish impatience, and gets her to the door 
 for she must see Jim Guernsey first, and she knows too 
 well where he will come the moment he leaves the 
 Senate. 
 
 But, even at the entrance, Mattie turns, and, kiss-
 
 252 HER SENATOR. 
 
 ing her again, gives Evelyn an awful stab. She mur- 
 murs, with radiant eyes: "To-morrow morning 
 early shall I come up here and kiss you, or will you 
 come down to the Arlington and kiss me ?" Then, look- 
 ing into the lovely face that gazes upon and devours 
 her own, she adds: " I believe Jim loves you, but not 
 the scandal, not the lies, dear sister!" 
 
 So she goes away, leaving Evie alone in horrid reverie, 
 for she is muttering to herself : ' ' Jim Guernsey's father 
 was a good man. He has made my sister happy, pure, and 
 noble ; he has given her education and a fortune. It 
 must have been a dream that he robbed me of my 
 birthright. Now I have no right to break my oath to 
 the son." 
 
 Then she starts, turns pale, and trembles, for a 
 newsboy outside is crying, in the clear night air, these 
 awful words, that smite her: ' ' Extree extra! 
 The gelatine schedule passed by the Senate by a majority of 
 ONE ! 
 
 And she cries out: " One! That was my vote in the 
 United States Senate, and what have I paid for it! My 
 God ! I have won the game, I have delivered ' the 
 goods'!" next shudders: "He will be here for his 
 price," and laughs a hideous laugh. "How Mathilde 
 will love me, the mistress of the man she calls her 
 brother!" 
 
 Then, an indomitable resolution coming over her, she 
 mutters: " I will tell him ! Then if he dares to ask, 
 I'll drive his infamy down his throat! " next, in a plain- 
 tive way, falters: "He will despise me, breaking my 
 oath, refusing the bargain I have made." 
 
 And just here a new but despairing light comes into 
 her tortured eyes, and she cries, wringing her hands in 
 hapless misery: "Oh Jim my Jim now I know! It 
 was love LOVE ! LOVE ! that cried out in my heart 
 not hate! not HATE!"
 
 HER SENATOR. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 i "YOU CAN'T RUIN A UNITED STATES SENATOR." 
 
 THEN to this woman waiting for this man she knows 
 she loves and fears the more because she loves him, 
 there comes a step up the stairs his step ! 
 
 She knows now that she has listened for it day by 
 day that's why she recognizes it, she loves it! 
 
 He is coming for his price and she has sworn to pay 
 it! He has voted "aye" in the Senate, that she may 
 vote "aye " here in this room to-night! 
 
 The front door is opening! convulsively she rises 
 from the sofa on which she has been sitting and makes 
 a step as if to drive him away before he can plead with 
 her and kiss her. 
 
 But even as he draws aside the portieres of her 
 parlor, Jim Guernsey's face appalls her. It is not 
 that of the man who had left her; it has a hangdog, 
 sneaky look about the eyes. The honest gleam of 
 passion, hungering passion, has left it. This creature 
 who is coming in to her looks as if he were a sneak and 
 ashamed of it. 
 
 Instead of confronting him, she retreats from him. 
 
 This is but for an instant! Even as he gazes at 
 her, Jim Guernsey's face blazes up, devouring the 
 beauty of this creature of wild eyes and hunted-deer 
 expression that he has bargained for and bought! 
 
 So they gaze at each other like two criminals, nei- 
 ther daring to look the other in the eye. 
 
 Then she cries hoarsely: "Keep away!" for the 
 Senator's mien affrights her. 
 
 At times his eyes seem to light up with longing pas- 
 siOn and absorb her, then seek the floor. Though his
 
 54 H ER SENATOR. 
 
 lips quiver they give forth no sound. Is the question he 
 is going to ask her so base a one that even this free and 
 easy Western man who is at best no more refined than 
 his fellows of politics or the clubs cannot phrase it? 
 
 As this idea dashes through Evie's brain, over her 
 beautiful face, neck, and arms, flies that torturing 
 blush of modesty about to be assailed, the one that has 
 come to her so often this night. To her pale, mobile 
 features it adds the loveliness of diffidence, the delicate 
 charm of rosebud cheeks, shy eyes, and exquisite re- 
 treating pose. Her shoulders that had been gleaming 
 white marble now shine like pink corals. 
 
 Upon this loveliness Jim Guernsey gazes longingly, 
 passionately, then his eyes sink before Evie's once 
 more in a shamefaced way, and he mutters, huskily: 
 "The gelatine schedule has passed the Senate by one." 
 
 "Y-e-s, I know, the extras told me that," she 
 sighs, and her cheeks glow with deeper red; she 
 lays one little hand upon her heart as if to stay its flut- 
 tering, and with the other supports herself against an 
 ornamental table as if his news had struck her down, 
 for Doc Guernsey, with the air of a man who has come 
 to the Rubicon and is bound to pass it, closes the door 
 behind him with a bang, and takes a step toward her. 
 
 From him she shrinks, strange diffidence in her man- 
 ner, a delicious bashfulness in her attitude. 
 
 Apprehension is upon her. Before she loved him 
 she did not fear him ; now, my heaven ! why does he 
 fear her too ? 
 
 A nervous laugh, that is half mocking, half hysteri- 
 cal, ripples her pale lips. Mentally she sneers: " The 
 Sultan is not trembling before his purchased odalisque. 
 Lovelace is abashed in the presence of Pamela." 
 
 Even as these thoughts fly through her Guernsey 
 mutters: "By thunder! you shrink from me, Evie! 
 You you don't come here to kiss me for my vote?"
 
 HER SENATOR. 255 
 
 "No, Jim," she murmurs, "I I can't do that." 
 
 'That's about what I guessed it would be," he says 
 moodily, and sinks into a chair, tossing his hat upon 
 the table. "That's what I feared when I voted ' No ' 
 in the United States Senate to-night. That's why I 
 can't look you in the face, I've I've busted my word 
 to you, Evie! " 
 
 " You voted ' No !' " she gasps, coming to him. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Thank God ! " And two fairy lips are pressed upon 
 his. 
 
 To her he falters: "Great gosh! you're glad I went 
 back on my promise to you ?" 
 
 "Yes, Jim," she cries, a glorious joy in her face, 
 "because now I can go back on my word to you. I 
 can say ' NO ' to your question." 
 
 But a desperate, almost despairing man rises up to 
 her, and, taking her fair wrist in his grasp, turns her 
 to him and says: "Not by the torture stake! You 
 shan't say NO!" 
 
 "Why not?" and her eyes beam on him defiantly 
 as she laughs: " The the bill hasn't passed." 
 
 "Oh, yes it has! Some other fellows haven't 
 as big a conscience as I have," he mutters. "But 
 Evie!" Here the dominant power of the man breaks 
 forth and carries her away with him as he goes on in 
 impetuous voice : ' ' Though I got up to say ' aye ' to the 
 vote, I couldn't, darn me, I just couldn't ! That infernal 
 bust of Daniel Webster up there, " he points to the bronze 
 "got to looking at me in the Senate Chamber, and I, 
 despite my word to you, shouted ' NO ! ' so loud it most 
 shook the Senate Chamber. The galleries applauded 
 me but all I thought was : ' Even if this does beggar 
 my darling perhaps she'll forgive me for it. For 
 though I've broken my promise to you and voted 'no,' 
 by the Eternal you shan't vote ' NO ' to the question I
 
 756 HER SEN1TOR. 
 
 ask you to-night. Forgive me, pity me! I I said, 
 even if Evie does lose her money what does it matter ? 
 I have enough for both ! My wife ! " 
 
 "Your wife! Jim?" This is half shriek, half sob, 
 from the beautiful creature who trembles in his grasp. 
 
 " Yes, my WIFE! She'll be rich, she'll have all I have 
 on earth, even my love. That's the question I meant 
 to ask you to-night. And by heaven, you shan't say 
 ' NO ' because that cursed bust of Daniel Webster has 
 made me do my duty as a man and a senator." 
 
 Then, forgetful of gauze and laces and furbelows, 
 Doc Guernsey crushes to his big heart the woman who 
 in her soul had thought him base enough to love her 
 but to make her barter her honor for his. 
 
 But with a smothered, self-reproaching "Jim! why 
 d-d-didn 't you speak before ?" there is a fainting woman on 
 the big breast of the Senator from Populoso. Over her 
 he bends and mutters: " Wake up! wake up, sis! hear 
 me speak now! If it hadn't been for the infernal 
 anonymous letters I would have SHOUTED long ago. 
 Evie! it's your big Jim talking to you. Evie! it's the 
 fellow who voted as you didn't want him to that's talk 
 ing to you. Evie!" 
 
 But he ceases speech and goes to kissing, for the 
 eyes have opened the beaming eyes of the woman he 
 loves : and she is whispering to him ; ' ' Jim, forgive me ! 
 I thought oh, Jim! What did I think? " 
 
 " Not as bad as you ought to, not as good as I'll be 
 to you, please God," mutters the Senator, and takes his 
 prey in his arms as if she belonged to him even 
 though he has voted against the Gelatine Trust. 
 ********** 
 
 One morning about a week after this, the Waldorf is 
 in its Monday glory; the audience from one of Mr. 
 Bagby 's concerts, in which the beauty and fashion of New 
 York have just been listening to the great songbirds^
 
 HER SENATOR. 257 
 
 tenors, and musical virtuosos of this world, is passing 
 out of the ballroom, some of them going t6 their car- 
 riages, others strolling through the magnificent apart- 
 ments of the first floor en route for the dining-room, 
 where the usual numerous lunch parties that follow 
 these affairs, take place. 
 
 Among this crowd of beautiful women, in which gen- 
 tlemen are conspicuous because they are so few, is Mr. 
 Steinbergh. The Colossus of the stock market has 
 stolen time from his business affairs, now that the great 
 Gelatine fight is over and the Trust is safe, to devote 
 a little of his leisure to art. A songbird, in whom he 
 takes paternal interest and whose artistic fortunes he 
 favors, has been giving out her notes at great price at 
 the concert. Mr. Steinbergh has sauntered in to help 
 her by his presence and applause. 
 
 He looks carelessly at the beauties who are stepping 
 into their magnificent equipages t the door and, after 
 lunching in the restaurant with one or two gentlemen 
 and ladies of his acquaintance, is about calling his car- 
 riage to drive down town. Passing the Moorish room 
 he chances to carelessly glance into that arabesque 
 apartment, gives a little start and thinks: "By George, 
 here's another girl-bride. This hotel seems alive with 
 'em. At a distance she is very pretty. I'll take a 
 nearer inspection, " and strolls into the parlor of Turkey- 
 red effects to receive surprise. 
 
 A beautiful woman at his approach rises, her eyes 
 lighting up with cordial greeting as she murmurs: 
 "Dear Mr. Steinbergh, I was just sitting down to write 
 to you, to ask you to drop in and see us;" then she 
 smiles, and whispers, archly, "You've forgiven me, I 
 hope, for not delivering ''the goods ? ' " 
 
 "Most assuredly," remarks the financier, "espe- 
 cially as Mr. Guernsey's little speech upon statistics 
 really won the fight for us. Two or three gentlemen,
 
 258 HER SENATOR. 
 
 who were on the fence, thought the Senator from Pop- 
 uloso was upon our side of it, and promptly stepped 
 over and voted in the right way. Now, I suppose you'd 
 like my advice with regard to your stock ?" 
 
 "Very much," says Evie affably and happily, be- 
 cause Mr. Steinbergh had always been kind to her and 
 she has feared reproach from him where she now 
 receives, in his easy way, the thanks this gentleman 
 can always give so graciously. 
 
 ''Very well," he whispers, "keep your stock." 
 
 "Why, it's already gone up twenty points," she says 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Yes, it will go up more! Its dividends will pay 
 you. Keep it. The bears in Wall Street may assail it, 
 but we're not afraid of bears. They are our meat. 
 The only thing the Gelatine Trust trembles at is Con- 
 gress. " 
 
 Then his tranquil eyes grow deep as he suggests : 
 "You wished to see me on business was this the 
 whole of it?" 
 
 " No," she replies, "more important business than 
 even the question I have asked you. You have a tele- 
 gram in your possession signed 'James B. Guernsey 'in 
 regard to five thousand shares of Gelatine stock?" 
 
 "Yes," he answers, his eyes growing cunning. 
 
 " Send it to me by special messenger." 
 
 "Ah! you wish to hold it over the Senator you 
 imagine you can punish him for not voting your way ? 
 you v/ish " 
 
 "I did wish," she says impulsively 
 
 " Not to ruin him ? " he asks almost jeeringly, then 
 continues, a curious twinkle in his eye: " Permit me to 
 tell you a few little facts about the United States 
 Senate, and one of them is this: Nothing save the 
 failure of reelection ever ruins a United States 
 Senator!"
 
 HER SENATOR. 859 
 
 " No ? " she says, astounded. " Not even if it wrrc 
 proved " 
 
 " Nothing ruins a United States Senator! T a proof of 
 which," remarks Mr. Steinbergh, "permit me to offer 
 you this newspaper homily." 
 
 And he produces from his pocketbook that cele- 
 brated article in the New York Herald of Sunday, 
 March tenth, 1895, which has these extraordinary head- 
 lines: ''HOW CONGRESS DIED! SIGHTS AND SCENES 
 OF DISGUSTING REVELRY AMID THE MAKERS OF OUR 
 
 NATION'S LAWS! A PROLONGED SATURNALIA! AND 
 
 PANDEMONIUM PRESIDED! COMMITTEE ROOMS ARE 
 MADE BARS AND DISREPUTABLE PERSONS JOIN WITH 
 CONGRESSMEN ! " 
 
 "Read that," he jeers, "and you'll think neither 
 woman nor the Devil can ruin a United States Sena- 
 tor." Then he laughs with good-natured sneer: "And 
 so my pretty little lady, you intended to ruin poor Jim 
 Guernsey ? " 
 
 "I've I've done worse than that!" returns Evie, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Worse?" 
 
 "Yes, "she says impulsively, "I've I'VE MARRIED 
 HIM!" 
 
 "Married him?" This is a gasp of astonishment 
 from Steinbergh who has received one of the very 
 few verbal knock-downs of his career. 
 
 "Yes, I am now the Honorable Mrs. James B. 
 Guernsey, of Populoso. He is my Senator now. We 
 were married very early this morning and are just 
 arrived from Washington. Jim thought he would fly 
 from the reporters but he didn't. They've got him in 
 the caf6 now. You can read all about it in the even- 
 ing papers." Then she blushes sweetly and murmurs 
 reproachfully: "Don't I I look like a bride ? " 
 , " Indeed you do," he whispers, his eyes emphasizing
 
 260 HER SENATOR. 
 
 his admiration ; for Evie has thrown away all sugges- 
 tion of widowhood with the new vows that have passed 
 her lips. There is no hint of second honeymoon in her 
 nuptial toilette. She looks as much the bride as any 
 maiden in orange blossoms, white veil, and blushes. 
 
 And, bending over her fair hand, he thinks: " She is 
 even a more brilliant woman than I thought her. I 
 imagined she only wanted his vote. Egad ! she has 
 captured all his votes ! " Then he adds very earnestly: 
 " Remember what I told you about the Gelatine stock. 
 Keep it as you would a household god." 
 
 Here she astounds him, for she whispers: "No, I 
 shall sell it as a household devil ! It would be a stand- 
 ing bribe to me. Jim's got five years more. I have 
 already ordered it sold. With the hundred thousand 
 dollars profit I'm going to endow the Home for Moth- 
 erless Children founded in Silveropolis by Jim's noble 
 father. After this my husband votes for his honor 
 which shall be my glory. For you know," here she 
 stammers and grows red with bride's blushes, and taps 
 with her parasol her pretty foot that is peeping from 
 beneath her satin skirts, "I I love Jim! " 
 
 "I see you do," falters the financier. Then he says 
 in broken voice: "Jim Guernsey's the luckiest man 
 upon this earth ! " 
 
 "Then stop and congratulate him," she suggests, 
 eagerly. " Congratulate us both, dear Mr. Steinbergh. 
 Come up and have dinner with us and see how happy 
 we are. You've always been very good to me." 
 
 "Yes, we're we're old friends," falters the man of 
 Wall Street. " But I I won't intrude upon the first 
 honeymoon dinner." 
 
 Once more bending over her fair hand, he kisses 
 it sadly and goes away ; for Steinbergh, great as he is 
 at finance, and potent as he is among the bankers, 
 brokers, and money-changers of this world, has that
 
 HER SENATOR. 261 
 
 not uncommon feebleness of manhood. He always 
 values most the woman he has lost. 
 
 But notwithstanding the financier's regrets, and three 
 or four long sighs given in the course of a business day, 
 he finds time to send to the Honorable Mr. and Mrs. 
 James B. Guernsey one of the handsomest wedding 
 presents that has ever been received in New York, and 
 that means a good deal. 
 
 For Mr. Steinbergh, as he has driven down to Wall 
 Street, has communed to himself in this way: "God 
 bless her, I'm glad I gave dear little Evie a push along 
 in life. And now dear little Evie will give the Honor- 
 able Jim several pushes in his career. There's no tell- 
 ing what such a woman may do. Great discounts ! she 
 may some day make ' Her Senator ' into ' OUR PRESI- 
 DENT!'" 
 
 FINIS.
 
 The SPY COMPANY 
 
 A Tale of rbe Mexican War 
 By ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 "A stirring tale of love and fighting, quite in Mr. Gunter'i 
 
 minner. " Nnu York American, January 31, 1903. 
 
 "A worthy successor to ' Mr. Barnes of New York,' and Mr. 
 of Texas." The North Amirican, Phila., Pa., February 15, 1903. 
 
 "A tale of stirring incidents and ingenious plot .... A novel in 
 which there is no* one dull moment." Tbt Literary tfewt," New Yark, 
 March, 1903. 
 
 " No chapter In the history of these United States is more picturesque and 
 romantic than that which relates to the acquisition of Texas. In the 'forties,* 
 when Texas was in a transition state, held by Mexico, claiming to be an inde- 
 pendent nation and drifting into the possession of the United States, all at the 
 same time, the local situation was as complicated as the most imaginative n<nei~ 
 iit could desire, and this involved state of affairs was cleared up by the Mexican 
 War, just in the right way to afford a strong climax. Full advantage of these 
 attractive elements has been taken by Archibald Clavering Gunter, author of 
 ' Mr. Barnes of New York,' in his latest work, The Spy Company." 
 
 Evening Telegraph, Philadelphia, January 31, 1903. 
 
 Very handsomely illustrated. Frontispiece in colors 
 Cloth, $1.50 Paper, 50 Cents 
 
 At all botksellers or sent prepaid on receipt tf price ly 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
 
 A Lost American 
 
 AN EXCITING TALE OF CUBA 
 
 BY 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " Mr. Barnes of New York, " " The King's Stock- 
 broker," etc., etc. 
 
 " The plot of Mr. Gunter's latest novel is laid 
 in Cuba, during the ten years' war. The 
 scenes and incidents of the story gives ad- 
 ditional interest in view of the late conflict, and 
 much capital is made out of our instinctive 
 horror of Spanish methods of warfare. The 
 hero of the story is an American, imprisoned 
 without trial, in a Cuban dungeon and sentenced 
 to be shot. . . . Once started we find no 
 breathing space until Howard has happily 
 married his lady love." The Amherst Literary 
 Monthly. 
 
 Cloth, $ 1.50 Paper, 50 Cents 
 
 per sale by all booksellers, or sent prepaid, on receipi 
 of price, by 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK,
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS 
 
 BY 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 *' This story is one of Mr. Gunter's best, and those who 
 have read 'Mr. Barnes of New York' and 'Mr. Potter of 
 Texas 'know the full meaning of this statement." Loyal Amer- 
 ican t Minneapolis. 
 
 '''The Princess of Paris ' is decidedly the best thing that 
 Mr Gunter has done in way of giving him a distinctive place 
 among authors of to-day. It introduces a good deal of history 
 connected with the reign of Louis Phillipe, the great Louisiana 
 bubble, and the beginnings of modern banking methods, one 
 of the most interesting epochs in the history of France. This 
 adds to the charm and value of the book. Altogether, ' The 
 Princess of Paris' reminds one strongly of the writings of the 
 great master of romance Dumas, the elder and in point of 
 interest it is exceeded by nothing which the renowned French- 
 man ever wrote." Rochester Courier. 
 
 Cloth, $1.50 . . Paper, 50 Cents 
 
 THE KING'S STOCKBROKER 
 
 THE SEQUEL TO 
 
 A PRINCESS OF PARIS 
 
 " Full of exciting incident and dramatic situations." New 
 Orleans Picayune. 
 
 " The work is clean, wonderfully well written and an ex 
 Jeedingly dramatic bit of literature." Forte Wayne News. 
 
 Cloth, $1.50 . . Paper, 50 Cents 
 
 For sale by aH booksellers, or sent postpaid o receipt of 
 price, by 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HURST & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Lately "Published 
 
 PHIL CONWAY 
 
 'By 
 
 Archibald Clavering Gunter 
 
 THIS extraordinary story of how a trip to Central 
 America nearly ruined the happiness of one of New 
 York's great speculators and financiers equals in interest 
 the famous novel **MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK," by the same 
 author, and consequently will have the same unprecedented 
 number of readers. 
 
 The following partial list of chapters will convey in part, 
 th scope and interest of this most dramatic novel : 
 
 \M A BACHELOR'S APARTMENT HOUSE 
 
 THE REVELATION OF THE PARROT'S CAGE 
 THE BROKEN SCISSORS 
 
 THE LADY AT THE HOTEL WINDOW 
 /MB WIFI OF THE REFUGEE 
 
 THE TELEGRAM SENT FROM COBAN 
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE FUGITIVE 
 
 ON THE DECK OF THE NEW ORLEANS BOAT 
 THI LITTLE FLAT IN FIFTY-EIGHTH STREET 
 
 A TfeTE-A-TfiTE MULEBACK RlDE 
 
 His MAGNIFICENT ENEMY 
 
 THE OPEN TELEPHONE 
 A L*DY VISITS THE BACHELOR'S FLAT 
 THE FAIRY BRIDAL GIFT 
 
 "BEFORE THE ALTAR I BURY MY FATHER'S WRONGS" 
 
 "HER LIFE FIRST, HER LOVE AFTERWARDS" 
 
 THE SURPRISES OF A NIGHT 
 
 Clolh. I.5O "Paper, SO cents 
 
 Ftr salt by all booksellers or sent prepaid on receipt of price bf 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
 
 What some of America s 
 ablest Critics say of 
 
 JACK CURZON 
 
 By 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 r 
 
 "We find a itory of great vivacity in A. C. Canter'* 'Jack Curzon. ' " N. r. Sun. 
 
 "Is full of d uh and abounds with dramatic incident." AW; Havtn Mtrnlng 
 Knot. 
 
 "The book has lot* of humor in it, if intensely interesting, and will certalriy 
 meet with universal favor." Dafy >arn/, Phillipsburg, Pa, 
 
 "Gunter is certainly the novelist of the day, who comes nearest to Alexander 
 Dumas, and to our taste he surpasses the Frenchman. If you doubt this, throw aside 
 jour encyclopedia and history, and study the Filipino question, with Jack Curzon as 
 your guide and entertainer." Tht Pnts-Knichrtteler, Albany, N. T. 
 
 "Jack Curzon will be received with pleasure in all parts of the country. . . . 
 Mr. Gnnter has all the faculties of a successful novelist. He is a graceful, forceful, pun- 
 gent writer as occasion requires. He is a shrewd analyzer of chara&er, and an excellent 
 weaver of plots in which there is a warp and woof of amusing and thrilling incident." 
 Oakland frltunt. 
 
 "Romance lurks in every corner of the story, and is guided with the special akife 
 for which Mr. Gunter has already acquired a reputation. The tropical nature of the 
 surroundings of Manila are painted with spirited color, and the author's knowledge of 
 prevailing Spat. ,k conditions is strongly handled. The story is throughout one of ver- 
 satile Incident, so glowingly touched with reality that the clinching argument of the 
 scenes so nearly simultaneously with the American vidory at Manila bring "Jack Cur- 
 zon" forward as one of the most absorbing novels of the season ... Mr. Guntet 
 could not well have written a novel that would win more unanimous interest. It is 
 equipped with every possible factor to hold human attention, and is moreover peM- 
 trated by peculiar mental virility and color." Btittn Idiai. 
 
 Cloth, $1.50 Paper, 50 Cents 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent prepaid on receipt of price 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK,
 
 " Small Boys 
 
 in Big Boots/' 
 
 A Story for Children of All Ages. 
 
 BY 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 AUTHOR OK 
 
 "Mr. Barnes of New York," "Mr. Potter of Texas,* 
 "That Frenchman ! " etc. 
 
 PRESS NOTICES. 
 
 "It is novel, vigorous and never dull. It is written 
 especially for children, but plenty of grown-up people 
 will find themselves capable of being entertained by it." 
 New York Sun, Oct. nth, 1890. 
 
 " His boys and girls are real flesh and blood crea- 
 tions. Mr. Gunter's book cannot fail to be popular 
 with the children, and it bids fair to be equally liked 
 by the fathers and mothers of the children. " 
 
 San Francisco Chronicle ', Sept. yth, 1890. 
 
 "It overflows with humor, and is the best juvenile 
 story book of the season. Every boy and girl in Amer- 
 ica will want to read this clever work by Mr. Gunter. " 
 Davenport Democrat, Sept. joth, 1890. 
 
 Magnificently bound and beautifully illustrated by celebrated 
 
 artists, it will be found one of the most entertaining 
 
 as well as elegant 
 
 GIFT BOOKS OF THE SEASON. 
 
 For Sale by all Booksellers,
 
 A Novel of Startling Interest 
 
 in the complications which have lately arisen in the 
 Far East between 
 
 RUSSIA AND JAPAN 
 
 " "Tang'led Flag's" 
 
 By ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 The hero of the story is a Japanese officer educated 
 at West Point and purchasing artillery for Us govern- 
 ment from an American Connecticut arms manufactory. 
 His views on Russian aggression are typical of the ideas 
 of his country. 
 
 No novel in recent years has had a larger salt 
 
 "A rattling romance." New York Herald. 
 
 "Mr. Gunter will retain his public as long as he turns out such kocrtu M 
 'Tangled Flags.' "New York Ma'! and Ex f rest. 
 
 " 'Tangled Flags' is a book well worthy to begin the literature or the new 
 Century. Osuri Katsuma stands forth as strongly as any of Dumas's heroes." 
 The Literary News. 
 
 "While the flags of the nations are becoming entangled in Peking, it it 
 small wonder that these people, so diverse in character and training and purpose, 
 should entangle their fortunes and affairs. But few living novelists have the 
 genius and the personal acquaintance with the scenes and events that will help 
 to weave them into such a satisfactory romance as 'Tangled Flags.' **- 
 Bookseller, Newsdealer and Stationer. 
 
 Cloth. 1.50 Paper. JO Cent* 
 
 At all Booksellers or sent prepaid on rtceipt of price by 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK,
 
 Mr. Potter 
 
 of Texas. 
 
 AMERICAN EDITION, 
 
 ENGLISH EDITION, 
 
 "The description of the Bom- 
 bardment of Alexandria, in <Mr. 
 Potter of Texas/ is, perhaps, the 
 most stirring picture painted by 
 the pen of any write: in several 
 generations"
 
 BOB COVINGTON 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 | 
 
 BY 
 
 Archibald Clavering Guntcr 
 
 "Of intense interest."^. Louis Star. 
 
 "There is not a dull line between the covers." 
 
 St. Louis Post-Despatch? 
 
 F- 
 
 " Better than .,< MrTlBarnes: of 
 
 New York.'" 
 
 IT London Timts.\ 
 
 Cloth, $1.50 Paper, 50 Cents 
 
 j 
 
 f- : -i 
 
 Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price by) V 
 
 Hurst & Company 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 ANOTHER GREAT SUCCESS 
 
 Miss Nobody 
 
 of Nowhere 
 
 BY 
 
 ARCHIBALD C. GUNTER 
 
 "Full of incident and excitement." New York 
 Herald. 
 
 "The popularity of Mr. Gunter will now be greatei 
 than ever." Tacoma Globe. 
 
 *'A story that will keep a man away from his 
 
 meals." Omaha Bee. 
 
 "There is not a dull page in this volume." 
 
 Daily Chronicle, London, Jan. 14, 1891. 
 
 "Gunter scores another success." 
 
 Morning Advertiser^ London, Dec. 16,1890. 
 
 "Well worth reading." 
 
 Galignani, Paris, Nov. 24, 1890. 
 
 *Nothing could exceed its thrilling interest." 
 
 Glasgow Herald, Dec. 25, 1890. 
 
 "Gunter's latest remarkable story will not disappoint 
 his numerous admirers." 
 
 Chronicle, Dec. 4, 1 890.
 
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