she had a way of silencing him. Perhaps she had some hold on him, perhaps she was necessary to his plan for ameliorating the condition of the colored race.
She saw Col. Selby, when the public knew and when it did not know. She would see him, whatever excuses he made, and however he avoided her. She was urged on by a fever of love and hatred and jealousy, which alternately possessed her. Sometimes she petted him, and coaxed him and tried all her fascinations. And again she threatened him and reproached him. What was he doing? Why had he taken no steps to free himself? Why didn’t he send his wife home? She should have money soon. They could go to Europe — anywhere. What did she care for talk?
And he promised, and lied, and invented fresh excuses for delay, like a cowardly gambler and roue as he was, fearing to break with her, and half the time unwilling to give her up.
“That woman doesn’t know what fear is,” he said to himself, “and she watches me like a hawk.”
He told his wife that this woman was a lobbyist, whom he had to tolerate and use in getting through his claims, and that he should pay her and have done with her, when he succeeded.
CHAPTER XLI.
Henry Brierly was at the Dilworthy’s constantly and on such terms of intimacy that he came and went without question. The Senator was not an inhospitable man, he liked to have guests in his house, and Harry’s gay humor and rattling way entertained him; for even the most devout men and busy statesmen must have hours of relaxation.
Harry himself believed that he was of great service in the University business, and that the success of the scheme depended upon him to a great degree. He spent many hours in talking it over with the Senator after dinner. He went so far as to consider whether it would be worth his while to take the professorship of civil engineering in the new institution.
But it was not the Senator’s society nor his dinners — at which this scapegrace remarked that there was too much grace and too little wine — which attracted him to the house. The fact was the poor fellow hung around there day after day for the chance of seeing Laura for five minutes at a time. For her presence at dinner he would endure the long bore of the Senator’s talk afterwards, while Laura was off at some assembly, or excused herself on the plea of fatigue. Now and then he accompanied her to some reception, and rarely, on off nights, he was blessed with her company in the parlor, when he sang, and was chatty and vivacious and performed a hundred little tricks of imitation and ventriloquism, and made himself as entertaining as a man could be.
It puzzled him not a little that all his fascinations seemed to go for so little with Laura; it was beyond his experience with women. Sometimes Laura was exceedingly kind and petted him a little, and took the trouble to exert her powers of pleasing, and to entangle him deeper and deeper. But this, it angered him afterwards to think, was in private; in public she was beyond his reach, and never gave occasion to the suspicion that she had any affair with him. He was never permitted to achieve the dignity of a serious flirtation with her in public.
“Why do you treat me so?” he once said, reproachfully.
“Treat you how?” asked Laura in a sweet voice, lifting her eyebrows.
“You know well enough. You let other fellows monopolize you in society, and you are as indifferent to me as if we were strangers.”
“Can I help it if they are attentive, can I be rude? But we are such old friends, Mr. Brierly, that I didn’t suppose you would be jealous.”
“I think I must be a very old friend, then, by your conduct towards me. By the same rule I should judge that Col. Selby must be very new.”
Laura looked up quickly, as if about to return an indignant answer to such impertinence, but she only said, “Well, what of Col. Selby, sauce-box?”
“Nothing, probably, you’ll care for. Your being with him so much is the town talk, that’s all?”
“What do people say?” asked Laura calmly.
“Oh, they say a good many things. You are offended, though, to have me speak of it?”
“Not in the least. You are my true friend. I feel that I can trust you. You wouldn’t deceive me, Harry?” throwing into her eyes a look of trust and tenderness that melted away all his petulance and distrust. “What do they say?”
“Some say that you’ve lost your head about him; others that you don’t care any more for him than you do for a dozen others, but that he is completely fascinated with you and about to desert his wife; and others say it is nonsense to suppose you would entangle yourself with a married man, and that your intimacy only arises from the matter of the cotton, claims, for which he wants your influence with Dilworthy. But you know everybody is talked about more or less in Washington. I shouldn’t care; but I wish you wouldn’t have so much to do with Selby, Laura,” continued Harry, fancying that he was now upon such terms that his, advice, would be heeded.
“And you believed these slanders?”
“I don’t believe anything against you, Laura, but Col. Selby does not mean you any good. I know you wouldn’t be seen with him if you knew his reputation.”
“Do you know him?” Laura asked, as indifferently as she could.
“Only a little. I was at his lodgings’ in Georgetown a day or two ago, with Col. Sellers. Sellers wanted to talk with him about some patent remedy he has, Eye Water, or something of that sort, which he wants to introduce into Europe. Selby is going abroad very soon.”
Laura started; in spite of her self-control.
“And his wife! — Does he take his family? Did you see his wife?”
“Yes. A dark little woman, rather worn — must have been pretty once though. Has three or four children, one of them a baby. They’ll all go of course. She said she should be glad enough to get away from Washington. You know Selby has got his claim allowed, and they say he has had a run of luck lately at Morrissey’s.”
Laura heard all this in a kind of stupor, looking straight at Harry, without seeing him. Is it possible, she was thinking, that this base wretch, after all his promises, will take his wife and children and leave me? Is it possible the town is saying all these things about me? And a look of bitterness coming into her face — does the fool think he can escape so?
“You are angry with me, Laura,” said Harry, not comprehending in the least what was going on in her mind.
“Angry?” she said, forcing herself to come back to his presence. “With you? Oh no. I’m angry with the cruel world, which, pursues an independent woman as it never does a man. I’m grateful to you Harry; I’m grateful to you for telling me of that odious man.”
And she rose from her chair and gave him her pretty hand, which the silly fellow took, and kissed and clung to. And he said many silly things, before she disengaged herself gently, and left him, saying it was time to dress, for dinner.
And Harry went away, excited, and a little hopeful, but only a little. The happiness was only a gleam, which departed and left him thoroughly miserable. She never would love him,
