He was now so quiet, so plausible in his gentleness that the young woman felt ashamed of the quick spirit she had shown.
"Sit down," he said, and she obeyed, with her hands lying listlessly together in her lap.
"Your mother and I know what is best for you," he said. A slight shudder seemed to pass through the wife's dignified shoulders. "You have always been the object of our most tender solicitude," he went on. "And if I have been determined, it has been for your own ultimate good. I admit that there is not much romance about Mr. Sawyer. He is a keen, open-eyed, practical business man, with money out at interest, and with money lying in my bank. His family is excellent. His father was, for many years, the Clerk of the Court of Appeals, and his grandfather was a judge. And I believe as firmly as I ever believed anything, that he will be a very rich man. He is constantly widening out and will not confine himself to the buying and selling of mules. His judgment of the markets is fine, and I repeat that he will be a very rich man. In looking over the field I don't know another man I would rather have associated with me."
His wife, long since convinced by his practical logic, looked up with a quiet smile of approval. The girl sat weaving her fingers together. She met her father's questioning eye and did not waver.
"I don't presume to question what you say," she said. "But I am no longer a spoiled child to be petted and persuaded. I am a woman and have begun to think. This marriage, though brought about in so ridiculous a way, has had a wonderful effect upon me. I have heard that marriage merges a woman's identity with that of her husband, but this marriage has made an individual of me. It has freed me from frivolous company; it has given me something that I once thought I could not endure—solitude—and I have found it delightful. The hard and stubborn things that were beat into my head at school, and which I despised at the time, are useful pieces of knowledge now, and, viewing them, I wonder that I could ever have been so silly as to find my greatest pleasure in flattery."
Never before had she spoken at such length, nor with an air so serious. Her mother looked at her with a half wondering admiration, and the banker's countenance showed a new-born pride in her—in himself, indeed—for nothing in his household was important unless it showed a light reflected from him; and now, in his daughter, he discovered a part of himself, a disposition to think. This thought was seditious, and there is virtue in even a rebellious strength, and it convinced him that henceforth he must address her reason rather than a feminine whim. He was proud of her, admitted it to himself and conveyed it in a look which he gave his wife; but he was not the less determined to carry his point. Sawyer was a man of affairs. His judgment was sure, his spirit adventurous. Figures were his playthings, and who could say that he was not to become one of the country's great financiers? Once he had made a bid against many competitors acquainted with the work, to build a bridge for the county. Sawyer's bid was the lowest. His friends said that the undertaking would ruin him; McElwin deplored the young man's rashness. But he built the bridge, made money on the speculation; and the first traffic across the new structure was a drove of Sawyer's mules, en route to a profitable market.
"I am glad you have begun to think," he said, smiling at her. "I knew the time would come, and, as it has come, let me ask you a question. Did you request this Mr. Lyman to sign the petition?"
"I mentioned it to him."
"You did. That ought to have been sufficient. What did he say?"
"He said that he would—under certain conditions." McElwin winced in memory of his and Sawyer's visit to Lyman.