dream that is done and can’t come back to trouble us any more. I am so
tired.”
“Ah, poor child, don’t talk like that-cheer up–there’s daylight ahead.
Don’t give, up. You’ll have Laura again, and–Louise, and your mother,
and oceans and oceans of money–and then you can go away, ever so far
away somewhere, if you want to, and forget all about this infernal place.
And by George I’ll go with you! I’ll go with you–now there’s my word on
it. Cheer up. I’ll run out and tell the friends the news.”
And he wrung Washington’s hand and was about to hurry away when his
companion, in a burst of grateful admiration said:
“I think you are the best soul and the noblest I ever knew, Colonel
Sellers! and if the people only knew you as I do, you would not be
tagging around here a nameless man–you would be in Congress.”
The gladness died out of the Colonel’s face, and he laid his hand upon
Washington’s shoulder and said gravely:
“I have always been a friend of your family, Washington, and I think I
have always tried to do right as between man and man, according to my
lights. Now I don’t think there has ever been anything in my conduct
that should make you feel Justified in saying a thing like that.”
He turned, then, and walked slowly out, leaving Washington abashed and
somewhat bewildered. When Washington had presently got his thoughts into
line again, he said to himself, “Why, honestly, I only meant to
compliment him–indeed I would not have hurt him for the world.”
CHAPTER LII.
The weeks drifted by monotonously enough, now. The “preliminaries”
continued to drag along in Congress, and life was a dull suspense to
Sellers and Washington, a weary waiting which might have broken their
hearts, maybe, but for the relieving change which they got out of am
occasional visit to New York to see Laura. Standing guard in Washington
or anywhere else is not an exciting business in time of peace, but
standing guard was all that the two friends had to do; all that was
needed of them was that they should be on hand and ready for any
emergency that might come up. There was no work to do; that was all
finished; this was but the second session of the last winter’s Congress,
and its action on the bill could have but one result–its passage. The
house must do its work over again, of course, but the same membership was
there to see that it did it.–The Senate was secure–Senator Dilworthy
was able to put all doubts to rest on that head. Indeed it was no secret
in Washington that a two-thirds vote in the Senate was ready and waiting
to be cast for the University bill as soon as it should come before that
body.
Washington did not take part in the gaieties of “the season,” as he had
done the previous winter. He had lost his interest in such things; he
was oppressed with cares, now. Senator Dilworthy said to Washington that
an humble deportment, under punishment, was best, and that there was but
one way in which the troubled heart might find perfect repose and peace.
The suggestion found a response in Washington’s breast, and the Senator
saw the sign of it in his face.
From that moment one could find the youth with the Senator even oftener
than with Col. Sellers. “When the statesman presided at great temperance
meetings, he placed Washington in the front rank of impressive
dignitaries that gave tone to the occasion and pomp to the platform.
His bald headed surroundings made the youth the more conspicuous.
When the statesman made remarks in these meetings, he not infrequently
alluded with effect to the encouraging spectacle of one of the wealthiest
and most brilliant young favorites of society forsaking the light
vanities of that butterfly existence to nobly and self-sacrificingly
devote his talents and his riches to the cause of saving his hapless
fellow creatures from shame and misery here and eternal regret hereafter.
At the prayer meetings the Senator always brought Washington up the aisle
on his arm and seated him prominently; in his prayers he referred to him