somehow suits you; but I believe everything suits you, my
dear. Your mother will be a proud woman."

That sentence laid a little weight on my heart, which had just
been springing with undefined hope. I had been thinking of
somebody else who might perhaps be not displeased with me.

I sought for his figure that night, among the crowds at the
President's reception; amidst all the other interests of the
hour, that one was never forgotten. And there were many
interests certainly clustering about Washington and Washington
society then. The assembly was very peculiar, very marked,
very striking in many of its characteristics. The women were
few, much fewer than make part of ordinary assemblies; the men
were unusually well-looking, it seemed to me; and had an air
of life and purpose and energy in definite exercise, which was
very refreshing to meet. Besides that, which was generally
true, there were in Washington at this time many marked men,
and men of whom much was expected. The last have been first,
it is true, in many an instance; here as elsewhere;
nevertheless, the aspect of things and people at the time was
novel and interesting in the highest degree. So, was the talk.
Insipidities were no longer tolerated; everybody was _living_,
in some real sense, now.

I had my second view of the President, and nearer by. It did
not disappoint me, nor change the impression produced by the
first view. What a homely face! but I thought withal, what a
fine face! Rugged, and soft; gentle, and shrewd; Miss
Cardigan's "Yon's a mon!" recurred to me often. A man, every