ry one felt Hamilton Cutler had made his
first mistake. But, like every thing else into which he entered, for him
matrimony also was a success. The prettiest girl in Utica showed herself
worthy of her distinguished husband. She had given him children as
beautiful as herself; as what Washington calls "a cabinet lady" she had
kept her name out of the newspapers; as Madame L'Ambassatrice she had
put archduchesses at their ease; and after ten years she was an adoring
wife, a devoted mother, and a proud woman. Her pride was in believing
that for every joy she knew she was indebted entirely to her husband.
To owe everything to him, to feel that through him the blessings flowed,
was her ideal of happiness.

In this ideal her brother did not share. Her delight in a sense of
obligation left him quite cold. No one better than himself knew that
his rapid-fire rise in public favor was due to his own exertions, to the
fact that he had worked very hard, had been independent, had kept his
hands clean, and had worn no man's collar. Other people believed he owed
his advancement to his brother-in-law. He knew they believed that,
and it hurt him. When, at the annual dinner of the Amen Corner, they
burlesqued him as singing to "Ham" Cutler, "You made me what I am
to-day, I hope you're satisfied," he found that to laugh with the others
was something of an effort. His was a difficult position. He was a
party man; he had always worked inside the organization. The fact that
whenever he ran for an elective office the reformers indorsed him and
the best elements in the opposition parties voted for him did not shake
his loyalty to his own people. And to Hamilton Cutler, as one of his
party leaders, as one of the bosses of the "invisible government," he
was willing to defer. But while he could give allegiance to his party
leaders, and from them was willing to receive the rewards of office,
from a rich brother-in-law he was not at all willing to accept anything.
Still less was he willing that of the credit he deserved for years of
hard work for the party, of self-denial, and of efficient public service
the rich brother-in-law, should rob him.

His pride was to be known as a self-made man, as the servant only of the
voters. And now that ambition, now that he was district attorney of
New York City, to have it said that the office was the gift of his
brother-in-law was bitter. But he believed the injustice would soon
end. In a month he was coming up