Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 March 1875 — ST. VALETINE AT THE CAPITAL. [ARTICLE]

ST. VALETINE AT THE CAPITAL.

However exciting debates may be at times a Senator usually has to endure a great deal of dullness. There must be long hours of listening to prosy speeches in an atmosphere the reverse of invigorating; so, however enthusiastic his interest in causes pending may be, his attention is apt to wander, as did the attention of a certain Senator during a session shortly after the opening of Congress in the year 18 —. The Senator had a headache and the voice of the speaker on the other side of the Senate Chamber droned exasperatingly on and on concerning* some financial question about which the listener cared not two straws. He actually found himself tvondering at the people in the gallery who sat hearing in immovable patience and who doubtless, as the Senator said to himself, vexedly, knew no more of the matter in debate than they did of the secret of the Sphinx. The Senator looked them over for the want of better occupation. There were “ all kinds and sorts of people,” young and old, elegant and seedy, curious tod careless, ignorant and blase —an uninteresting set enough. The Senator was about giving up his inspection with a yawn of weariness when his eye unexpectedly fell on a lady’s face and was instantly fixed in admiration. The lady sat two or three rows back, wore a heavy dark brown cloak and bonnet and a veil that shaded her face; but the face itseif was one for a painter—a face beautiful in outline and of a pure, clear pallor, relieved by the faint gold of ripply hair and wonderful dark-gray eyes hplding an expression which caused the Senator to murmur, half-involuntarily: “A Marguerite! The very ideal of a Marguerite!” Forgetting that there was’such'a thing as a debate going on, the Senator became rapt in contemplation of the face in the gallery, which contemplation was all the safer because its owner was utterly unconscious of his existence and was abstractedly gazing at the railing before her, rousing herself now and then to respond to some remark made by another lady at her side. Whether the time was long or short before the two rose and* began to move toward the door the Sena-

tor did not calculate, but as they started he started too, and was' hastening out, when he ran almost into the arms of a gentleman entering. The latter exclaimed : “Confound — Why, my dear fellow! How are you? Came on for nothing in the world but to see you.. Come round to my hotel and talk over matters a little.” The Senator groaned inwardly, but there was nothing for it but to comply. The gentleman was a “political supporter” of his, and what were Marguerites to “ political supporters?” But the M. C. was a strangely unsatisfactory companion during the rest of the day, and caused his indefatigable friend some uneasiness in regard to his “ soundness” on certain points. That night he dreamed of nothing but Marguerite, and during the next few days he watched feverishly for her re-appearance in the galleries. “ Who could she have been?” he asked himself distractedly, after a tveek of vain expectation, adding, hopelessly, as he tossed his cigar grate, “It’s more than likely I shall never see her again.” It seemed as if this melancholy prediction would come true, for a w r eek paSsed without hiS having a glimpse of his inamorata. Finally, during an evening debate of unusual interest, in which he was taking an active part, and just in the midst of a somewhat heated speech of his own, he became aware of a pair of gray eyes looking down at him from the gallery. The effect was, nearly disastrous. The Senator, who was still a young man, and not very self-possessed, stammered and flushed like a school-boy, and brought his remarks to a sudden close. He sat down, indignant with himself, but unable to keep his eves from the face that so attracted him. It was the same lady, in the same dress, and with'jlhe same companion. To-night he got h nearer view of the face, and thought it more lovely than ever. But his opponents in the question of the day had no mind to leave him in peace, and the dazed M. C. was presently brought to his feet by a smart philippic from the opposite side of the chamber He answered hotly, got a sharp response, and a contest of words ensued, in which our Senator came off victor, but which

so excited him that he forgot for a while the lady in the gallery. When he did look for her she had disappeared. . She did not visit the Senate Chamber again; and the holidays came, during which the Senator, “ not being a man of family,” as he said, rather dolefully, to his friends, remained in Washington. He was popular in society, and the season was very gay, but he had never been so discontented in his life. He spent much of his time in collecting various pictured conceptions of Goethe’s Marguerite, with which he stored his private portfolio. He was glad when work commenced again, but, in spite of all his efforts to the contrary, he found himself continually noting the costumes and faces of people that came and went at the Capitol. Many a brown bonnet made his heart beat wildly, and many a glimpse of fair curls brought the blood to his cheek. “I suppose,” he 'soliloquized, miserably, as he sat solitarily in his apartments one evening, “ that I’m in love. Deuce take Cupid! say I. I’ve never suffered as I have this winter.”

The very next day his enchantress appeared again. Always in the same dress, with the same companion, and always provokingly unconscious of the Senator’s glances; but if she was unconscious her companion was not. The Senator soon perceived that he had drawn the attention of the latter to himself, and dared not look again. But something must be done. The Senator desperately beckoned a page to his side and, drawing -a five-dollar bill from his purse, Inquired briefly, in suppressed tones: “ Would you like to earn this?” “ O yes, sir, certainly,” was the nonchalant reply. “Very well. You see that lady in the front row of seats in the gallery, next the railed inclosure above the platform? The lady in the brown cloak, I mean. I want you to find out quietly where she lives. When you have discovered that you can come to my room and get the bill. And, mind you, keep this to yourself.” The boy nodded, and laughed as he turned away. He was hardly gone before the inconsistent Senator would have given a deal to call him back. He felt as if he had done a mean and ungentlemanly thing, and he left the Capiol thoroughly out of humor with himself. When he reached home he was amazed to find the page awaiting him. “Well?” he said brusquely. “Well, sir, the ladies took a carnage, and I hung on behind. They came along the avenue, and turned up Thirteenth street, and then into this one, and they stopped at the next house but one to this.”

The boy paused, expecting the bill, but got nothing from the surprised Senator save the question, “What’s the name?” “ The name on the door’s Carver, sir.” The next morning at the breakfast table the Senator plucked up his courage, and inquired of his landlady, under cover of a general conversation, “Do you know the family of Carvers on this street?” “ I know a little about them. I know they’re wealthy and aristocratic, and there’s an invalid father and one maiden daughter. They come to Washington every winter.” “Maiden daughter! I shouldn’t say she was more than eighteen,” said the Senator, incautiously. “ You shouldn’t, sir? She looks near thirty to me.” “ You’re sure there are not two daughters?” the questioner proceeded, waiving the point. “ Only one, sir. I don’t believe they see much company, the father is such an invalid. They’re very reserved people.” After this the lady who had attracted this distant worship appeared every day at the Capitol. Rain or shine she was sure to be there. But So far from noticing the Senator she never looked at him except when he was speaking. Her companion, however, appeared so much more interested as decidedly to embarrass the Senator. He was afraid he had been rude and that the lady with Miss Carver was endeavoring to check his forwardness by constant espionage. He was annoyed; but, after all, the real grievance was that his ideal Marguerite would not look at him. He could have borne annoyance philosophically if he could but have won a glance of interest from her.

“ Oh, turn those eyes upon me!” read the Senator from the back of a valentine that lay invitingly exposed in the window of a bookstore. He was coming from the Capitol on a rginy afternoon when this met his eye, and he said to himself with a half laugh as he closed his umbrella and entered the store: “ I wish she would!” “ There’s Senator 1 looking at valentines,” whispered a clerk in the back of the store to one of his mates. And as the whisper spread the Senator soon found himself the object of such general attention that he waited to make no purchase but left the shop. However, he went into the next one and there searched for a valentine that should be fit to offer Miss Carver. Such a valentine was hard to find. He read sentimental rhymes by the dozen, looked patiently at Cupids and flowers and mottoes, and again finally found himself the center of all eyes. “ Confound it!” muttered the Senator, as he again rushed into the street. “ I wish nobody in the city knew me!” He went the length of the* avenue, growing more and more disgusted with every fresh collection of valentines he looked over, and more annoyed at the notice he himself attracted. “ I want,” he said at last, pausing before the twelfth salesman in a kind of despair: “I want a sensible valentine.” And the with a covert grin at one of his associates: “That, sir, is what we haven’t got.” But by dint of perseverance the Senator at last found a very prettily illuminated, flimsy affair, containing verses that commenced thug:" ‘‘ Haste, messenger of love, and fly Unto the one who holds my heart,” etc. With this he went home, feelingtextremeIy silly, but without at all wavering in

his intention of sending the valentine. The day being the 13th of February, it was mailed that evening. But before sending the audacious Senator had written within the 0 wreath of pansies that ornamented the last page, “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” He was a little nervous after it was sent, but, expecting no results from it, soon recovered his complacency. But two days after he found upon his desk in the Senate Chamber a tiny, scented note, almost lost among heavier documents. Opening this, he read, to his surprise and amusement, this quotation, written in a lady’s hand: “ And who is my neighbor?” There was no name signed, and nothing on the sheet but this. The Senator was fairly puzzled, ■ - “ How on earth,” he asked himself. “ could she have found out that it was I who sent the valentine?” The Senator was unsettled completely, and half pleased and half displeased by the receptpn of this note. She had made it possible for him to write to her, and perhaps become acquainted with her, but he was conscious of a feeling of disappointment that she had done it. His ideal Marguerite, although he would not have acknowledged it, lost a little of her charm in his eyes. But of course he answered the note. The merriest smile that his face had know r n that winter danced over it as he wrote his answer, in which he made another profane use of the Scriptures: “ Have I been so long time with thee, and yet hast thou not known me?” To this, as in duty bound, he signed his name. To say that he was curious about the answer would but faintly convey an idea of his state of mind. It came in due time. Another tiny, scented sheet, and upon it two words: “ Manifest thyself.” The Senator read these words with an emotion of simple wonder and raised his eyes slowly from the paper to a picture of Marguerite, the one of his many purchases that suited him best, which hung opposite on the wall.

“ This is the most singular thing. And the address and name are given in full. Of course it means that I may call, but how very ” The Senator lacked words to express himself, and, oddly enough, began to debate inwardly as to whether he should call at No. or not. A week ago he would have asked nothing better of fate than the chance of seeing and knowing his Marguerite, but those two letters had disturbed his previously-conceived impression of Marguerite. “ Well, she must be an example of that charming unconventionality of which we hear. That she is charming no one caD doubt,” he soliloquized, and before his mind’s eye passed the classic outlines and grave, sweet eyes that had stolen his heart. Nine o’clock found him ringing lit No. tered the parlors glanced at his own reflection with a thrill of satisfaction, feeling that he was a man no woman need be ashamed of. The sound of a step in the hall startled him, and he stoed waiting for the door to open with a decided palpitation of the heart. It did open, but instead of his Marguerite appeared the lady who had always been with her at the Capitol—a lady of about thirty years, passably good-look-ing and elegantly dressed.. To her meaning and ingratiating smile the Senatorquite taken by surprise, responded not at all, but stood staring. And when the lady, in no wise abashed, advanced with outstretched hand, he had scarcely sense enough to bow over it, and to stammer, as his companion motioned him to a seat—- “ Excuse me, madam, but this—l ” The lady leaned back and laughed the silveriest and most mocking laugh in the world. " ! “ I suppose we may consider ourselves introduced by the kindness of St. Valentine.” The Senator, not knowing how to answer otherwise, began, hastily: “Introduced? Then I, or I would say you are ” “Miss Carver,” the lady responded, matter-of-factly. The Senator was overwhelmed. His surprise was so evident and uncomfortable that the lady’s delicate eyebrows were elevated in interrogation. “ I have often seen you at the Capitol,” she said, “as of course you remember,” she added with a smile that was not reflected on the face opposite. The Senator stammered something or other which the lady evidently received as a compliment, for she smiled again as she continued:

“ And when I received your valentine, knowing it was yours, I could not resist the temptation to form the acquaintance of one whom I had so often admired at a distance.” The Senator ignored this chance for a second compliment, and said, eagerly: “ Why, that is the very point. You knew it was mine, you say. Now, I cannot imagine how you knew.” It was the lady’s turn to look blank. “ Why,” she responded in amazement, “ did you not know that you inclosed your card with the valentine?” “ Inclosed my card? I never dreamed of such a thing!” “ You did it, nevertheless. 1 did at first think it had been done inadvertently, for it was a torn card and was written all over with the name ‘Marguerite.’” “ Ah, that explains it.” The Senator drew a deep breath of relief. His Marguerite was not then concerned in this business. But who was she, then? Injustice to Miss Carver he felt „he must make an explanation,Uut how it was to be made was still a mystery to him as he commenced: “ I perceive that it is I myself who have been to blame in this'matter. It is a strange misapprehension and I beg your pardon most sincerely for having unwittingly led you into a mistake.” The Senator paused and but was spurred on by a sharp question. “A mistake? How is that? Surely the.valentine was addressed to me?" “But 1 did not know, but I thought—at least I was told —that the lady who

always came to the Capitol with you, the lady with fair curls, was Miss Carver.” The true Miss Carver actually sank back in her chair, her amazement at this speech was so great, and there was a considerable pause before she found voice to ejaculate: “The lady who was with me?” “ Yes. Is there anything remarkable about it?” “Well, it’s a little remarkable," was the sarcastic answer, for Miss Carver had now recovered her coolness—“ a little remarkable, because the lady, that is, the person you call a lady, who was always with me was my maid.” Her maid! Miss Carver might have been satisfied. Her mortified pride surely was sufficiently avenged in the effect those two words produced upon her hearer. A sudden pallor had replaced the flush on his cheek and the power of speech seemed to have left him. “ She is a German,” continued Miss Carver, maliciously, “ and the daughter of a man who keeps a lager-beer saloon in New Yoik city. She is the eldest of twelve children, and as her father could not keep'her she found a situation to do kitchen-work. By and by she came to our family and was second girl awhile. I finally took her for my maid, because, being perfectly uneducated and of a stolid temperament, she was not likely to be pert and gossipy.” Miss Carver paused. The Senator had started to his feet and then had turned back undecidedly. “ Would you like to see her?” she asked, mercilessly. “She has a cousin who comes here evenings, but perhaps he is not here to-night?” And she already had her hand on the bell-rope, when her guest exclaimed, in horror: “ No, for Heaven’s sake, don’t ring! What could I say to her? I can’t ask you to forgive me for the inconvenience I have caused you by being such—such a fool,” finished the Senator, “ but I am truly sorry. Excuse me if I say goodnight, as I—l have an engagement.” Miss Carver smiled and accompanied her guest to the door with polite speeches. The. Senator rushed home like a lunatic, and in ten minutes had committed to the flames every pictured Marguerite in his possession, together with the two dainty notes whose possession he owed to St. Valentine. • Some years later a friend caught, his arm one evening as he was promenading on Broadway, and proposed, jovially, “ Come around with me and see Faust played to-night. The Strakosch Italian troupe, you know. It’s sure to be fine.” “ Excuse me,” was the reply. “ I’d be happy to oblige you, but I—l don’t care for the play.” “ Fine prima donna; good realization of Margherita. Better come.” The Senator winced and reiterated his excuses, adding, as before: “ The fact is. you know, I really don’t like the play at all.”— Harper's Bazar.