deeply gratified to think he had
entered the great movement, and that she had been instrumental in
converting him. Her heart warmed to him strangely for his honesty and
his sincerity; and then he was so fine and earnest and strong-limbed!
The pressure of his arm at her side moved her, and she smiled at
herself. Unlike Bradley, she was self-analytical; she knew what all
these things meant.

"There's the station," the driver broke out, indicating some colored
lights in the valley below them. "We're 'most home."

At his word a vision of the plain, and the significance of its life,
rushed over Ida--the serene majesty of the stars, the splendor and
unused wealth of the prairies, the barriers to their use, the limitless
robbery of the poor, in both city and country, the pathetic _homes_ of
the renter.

"Oh, the pathos, the tragedy of it all! Nature is so good and generous,
and poverty so universal. Can it be remedied? It _must_ be remedied.
Every thinking, sympathizing soul must help us."

Bradley's voice touched Ida deeply as he said, slowly: "Henceforward I
shall work for these people and all who suffer. My life shall be given
to this work."

A great, sudden resolution flashed into Ida's eyes. She lifted her face
to his and laid her hand on his and clasped it hard. There was a little
pause, in which, as if by some occult sense, their minds read each
other.

"We'll work _together_, Bradley," she said; and the driver did not see
the timid caress which Bradley put upon her lips as a sign of his
unspeakable great joy.

XXXII.

CONCLUSION.

One winter evening Ida and Bradley came out of their apartments on
Capitol Hill and struck into one of the winding walks which led
downward toward the city. It was the fourth week of the "short session"
of Bradley's term of office, and the tenth week since their marriage.
He still treated Ida with a certain timidity, and his adoration had
been increased rather than diminished by his daily association with
her. She seemed not to regret her compact with him, and though hardly
more demonstrative than he, she let him know how deeply she trusted and
loved him.

He was transformed by her influence. His life had regained direction
and certainty. No rebuff of the Speaker, no insult of a member, angered
him. He was always in his seat, ready, whenever opportunity offered, to
do battle against wrong knowing that Ida was watching him. Between
times he went with her about the city,