moral instability, with a dubious and fearful eye. He was earnest
enough for his new principles now; but what warrant was there
of his sincerity? Margaret and her mother were high-minded women.
It was the gallant knight of her party and her political faith
that the girl admired, the valiant fight, not the triumph!
No mere soldier of fortune, no matter how successful or how brilliant,
could win her; if Tommy were the mercenary, not the knight,
no worldly glory could compensate his wife.

Wherefore, after a bad quarter of an hour reflecting
on these things, Mrs. Carriswood went to the Capitol,
resolved to take her goddaughter away. She would not withdraw
her acceptance of the Beatouns' invitation, no; let the Iowa
congressman have every opportunity to display his social
shortcomings in contrast with the accomplished Russian,
and Jack Turner, the most elegant man in the army; the next day
would be time enough for a telegram and a sudden flitting.
Yet in the midst of her plans for Tommy's discomfiture
she was assailed by a queer regret and reluctance.
Tommy's fascination had affected even a professional critic
of life; he had been so amusing, so willing, so trusting,
so useful, that her chill interest had warmed into liking.
She felt a moving of the heart as the handsome black head arose,
and the first notes of that resonant, thrilling voice swelled
above the din on the floor.

It was the day of his great speech, the speech that made him,
it was said.

As Mrs. Carriswood sank back, turning a little in an instinctive