here, or at least to be generous personally; so that, oddly
enough, the fear that most glanced before Olive was not that this high,
free matron, slightly irritable with cleverness and at the same time
good-natured with prosperity, would bully her son's bride, but rather
that she might take too fond a possession of her. It was a fear which
may be described as a presentiment of jealousy. It occurred,
accordingly, to Miss Chancellor's quick conscience that, possibly, the
proposal which presented itself in circumstances so complicated and
anomalous was simply a magnificent chance, an improvement on the very
best, even, that she had dreamed of for Verena. It meant a large command
of money--much larger than her own; the association of a couple of
clever people who simulated conviction very well, whether they felt it
or not, and who had a hundred useful worldly ramifications, and a kind
of social pedestal from which she might really shine afar. The
conscience I have spoken of grew positively sick as it thought of having
such a problem as that to consider, such an ordeal to traverse. In the
presence of such a contingency the poor girl felt grim and helpless; she
could only vaguely wonder whether she were called upon in the name of
duty to lend a hand to the torture of her own spirit.

"And if she should marry him, how could I be sure that--afterwards--you
would care so much about the question which has all our thoughts, hers
and mine?" This inquiry evolved itself from Olive's rapid meditation;
but even to herself it seemed a little rough.

Mrs. Burrage took it admirably. "You think we are feigning an interest,
only to get hold of her? That's not very nice of you, Miss Chancellor;
but of course you have to be tremendously careful. I assure you my son
tells me he firmly believes your movement is the great question of the
immediate future, that it has entered into a new phase; into what does
he call it? the domain of practical politics. As for me, you don't
suppose I don't want everything we poor women can get, or that I would
refuse any privilege or advantage that's offered me? I don't rant or
rave about anything, but I have--as I told you just now--my own quiet
way of being zealous. If you had no worse partisan than I, you would do
very well. My son has talked to me immensely about your ideas; and even
if I should enter into them only because he does, I should do so quite
enough. You may say you don't see Henry dangling about af