Having gained the sitting room she turned to Justin, admiration in her troubled eyes.
“Justin, I ought to be proud of you, and I am—I can’t help being—but this is, in a way, very unfortunate and distressing. Ben wasn’t worthy of that place, as I know only too well, and as you know; but he is so very bitter over his defeat, and Uncle Philip is the same. Ben has been in a stubborn rage ever since the election, and has said some sharp things to me about it—as if I could help it, or had anything to do with it!”
“I’m sorry.” He took a chair. “I suppose I’ve lost Mr. Davison’s good-will entirely. When I met him a few minutes ago he forbade me the house. But I wanted to see you, and came on.”
“I suppose you will accept the position?”
“Can I do otherwise?”
“I shouldn’t want you to refuse it. The people chose you, over Ben, and even though it was unexpected, I suppose you ought to serve. Ben is alone responsible for his defeat. Uncle Philip will not believe the things which we know to be true, and he thinks Ben ought to have been elected. Yet I do hope,” she looked at Justin earnestly, “that you will not feel that you must vote against the cattlemen in everything, in the legislature?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Uncle Philip declares that you mean to.”
“It will depend, I fancy, upon the general action of the legislature—upon the measures and bills that may be introduced, and the candidates who are presented for senator. I don’t expect to take any active part against the ranchmen.”
“The farmers expect you to.”