IN February the weather became warmer and summer-like. In Virginia there comes
often at this season a deceptive gleam of summer, slipping in between heavy storm-
clouds of sleet and snow; days and sometimes weeks when the temperature is like
June; when the earliest plants begin to show their hardy flowers, and when the bare
branches of the forest trees alone protest against the conduct of the seasons. Then
men and women are languid; life seems, as in Italy, sensuous and glowing with colour;
one is conscious of walking in an atmosphere that is warm, palpable, radiant with
possibilities; a delicate haze hangs over Arlington, and softens even the harsh white
glare of the Capitol; the struggle of existence seems to abate; Lent throws its calm
shadow over society; and youthful diplomatists, unconscious of their danger, are lured
into asking foolish girls to marry them; the blood thaws in the heart and flows out into
the veins, like the rills of sparkling water that trickle from every lump of ice or snow, as
though all the ice and snow on earth, and all the hardness of heart, all the heresy and
schism, all the works of the devil, had yielded to the force of love and to the fresh
warmth of innocent, lamb-like, confiding virtue. In such a world there should be no guile-
-but there is a great deal of it notwithstanding. Indeed, at no other season is there so
much. This is the moment when the two whited sepulchres at either end of the Avenue
reek with the thick atmosphere of bargain and sale. The old is going; the new is coming.
Wealth, office, power are at auction. Who bids highest? who hates with most venom?
who intrigues with most skill? who has done the dirtiest, the meanest, the darkest, and
the most, political work? He shall have his reward.
Senator Ratcliffe was absorbed and ill at ease. A swarm of applicants for office dogged
his steps and beleaguered his rooms in quest of his endorsement of their paper
characters. The new President was to arrive on Monday. Intrigues and combinations, of
which the Senator was the soul, were all alive, awaiting this arrival. Newspaper
correspondents pestered him with questions. Brother senators called him to
conferences. His mind was pre-occupied with his own interests. One might have
supposed that, at this instant, nothing could have drawn him away from the political
gaming-table, and yet when Mrs. Lee remarked that she was going to Mount Vernon on
Saturday with a little party, including the British Minister and an Irish gentleman staying
as a guest at the British Legation, the Senator surprised her by expressing a strong
wish to join them. He explained that, as the political lead was no longer in his hands, the
chances were nine in ten that if he stirred at all he should make a blunder; that his
friends expected him to do something when, in fact, nothing could be done; that every
preparation had already been made, and that for him to go on an excursion to Mount
Vernon, at this moment, with the British Minister, was, on the whole, about the best use
he could make of his time, since it would hide him for one day at least.
Lord Skye had fallen into the habit of consulting Mrs. Lee when his own social
resources were low, and it was she who had suggested this party to Mount Vernon, with
Carrington for a guide and Mr. Gore for variety, to occupy the time of the Irish friend
whom Lord Skye was bravely entertaining.
