As the two sisters drove home that night, Madeleine was unusually silent. Sybil yawned convulsively and then apologized:
“Mr. Schneidekoupon is very nice and good-natured, but a whole evening of him goes a long way; and that horrid Senator Krebs would not say a word, and drank a great deal too much wine, though it couldn’t make him any more stupid than he is. I don’t think I care for senators.” Then, wearily, after a pause: “Well, Maude, I do hope you’ve got what you wanted. I’m sure you must have had politics enough. Haven’t you got to the heart of your great American mystery yet?”
“Pretty near it, I think,” said Madeleine, half to herself.
IV
Sunday evening was stormy, and some enthusiasm was required to make one face its perils for the sake of society. Nevertheless, a few intimates made their appearance as usual at Mrs. Lee’s. The faithful Popoff was there, and Miss Dare also ran in to pass an hour with her dear Sybil; but as she passed the whole evening in a corner with Popoff, she must have been disappointed in her object. Carrington came, and Baron Jacobi. Schneidekoupon and his sister dined with Mrs. Lee, and remained after dinner, while Sybil and Julia Schneidekoupon compared conclusions about Washington society. The happy idea also occurred to Mr. Gore that, inasmuch as Mrs. Lee’s house was but a step from his hotel, he might as well take the chance of amusement there as the certainty of solitude in his rooms. Finally, Senator Ratcliffe duly made his appearance, and, having established himself with a cup of tea by Madeleine’s side, was soon left to enjoy a quiet talk with her, the rest of the party by common consent occupying themselves with each other. Under cover of the murmur of conversation in the room, Mr. Ratcliffe quickly became confidential.
“I came to suggest that, if you want to hear an interesting debate, you should come up to the Senate tomorrow. I am told that Garrard, of Louisiana, means to attack my last speech, and I shall probably in that case have to answer him. With you for a critic I shall speak better.”
“Am I such an amiable critic?” asked Madeleine.
“I never heard that amiable critics were the best,” said he; “justice is the soul of good criticism, and it is only justice that I ask and expect from you.”
“What good does this speaking do?” inquired she. “Are you any nearer the end of your difficulties by means of your speeches?”
“I hardly know yet. Just now we are in dead water; but this can’t last long. In fact, I am not afraid to tell you, though of course you will not repeat it to any human being, that we have taken measures to force an issue. Certain gentlemen, myself among the rest, have written letters meant for the President’s eye, though not addressed directly to him, and intended to draw out an expression of some sort that will show us what to expect.”
“Oh!” laughed Madeleine, “I knew about that a week ago.”
“About what?”
“About your letter to Sam Grimes, of North Bend.”
“What have you heard about my letter to Sam Grimes, of North Bend?” ejaculated Ratcliffe, a little abruptly.
“Oh, you do not know how admirably I have organised my secret service bureau,” said she. “Representative Cutter cross-questioned one of the Senate pages, and obliged him to confess that he had received from you a letter to be posted, which letter was addressed to Mr. Grimes, of North Bend.”
“And, of course, he told this to French, and French told you,” said Ratcliffe; “I see. If I had known this I would not have let French off so gently last night, for I prefer to tell you my own story without his embellishments. But it was my fault. I should not have trusted a page. Nothing is a secret here long. But one thing that Mr. Cutter did not find out was that several other gentlemen wrote letters at the same time, for the same purpose. Your friend, Mr. Clinton, wrote; Krebs wrote; and one or two members.”
“I suppose I must not ask what you said?”
“You may. We agreed that it was best to be very mild and conciliatory, and to urge the President only to give us some indication of his intentions, in order that we might not run counter to them. I drew a strong picture of the effect of the present situation on the party, and hinted that I had no personal wishes to gratify.”
“And what do you think will be the result?”
“I think we shall somehow manage to straighten things out,” said Ratcliffe. “The difficulty is only that the new President has little experience, and is suspicious. He thinks we shall intrigue to tie his hands, and he means to tie ours in advance. I don’t know him personally, but those who do, and who are fair judges, say that, though rather narrow and obstinate, he is honest enough, and will come round. I have no doubt I could settle it all with him in an hour’s talk, but it is out of the question for me to go to him unless I am asked, and to ask me to come would be itself a settlement.”
“What, then, is the danger you fear?”
“That he will offend all the important party leaders in order to conciliate unimportant ones, perhaps sentimental ones, like your friend French; that he will make foolish appointments without taking advice. By the way, have you seen French today?”
“No,” replied Madeleine; “I think he must be sore at
