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Updated: June 20, 2025
Hanway-Harley never spoke to more advantage. She did not doubt Mr. Storms's honesty, she did not distrust his love; but woman could not live by love alone, and she had her duty as a mother. Dorothy had been lapped in luxury; it was neither right nor safe that her daughter should marry downhill. Mrs. Hanway-Harley's voice was smoothly even. Mr. Storms must forgive a question.
Establishing himself in mighty state before the fireplace, rear to the blaze, he gazed with fondness, but as though from towering altitudes, on Dorothy. "Come and kiss me, child!" said Mr. Harley. Dorothy obeyed without daring to guess the cause of this abrupt affection. "You act strangely, Mr. Harley!" commented Mrs. Hanway-Harley, with a tinge of severity. "I hope you will compose yourself.
"It is you to have a care!" retorted Dorothy. "Papa and Uncle Pat shall hear of this!" "They will say as I say!" observed Mrs. Hanway-Harley, who believed it. "And if they should," cried Dorothy, "I have still a resource!" "Flight?" said Mrs. Hanway-Harley, not without contempt. "Marriage!" replied Dorothy, now as dry of eye as she was defiant.
"Am I to have no voice in disposal of myself? I tell you I shall marry whom I please! And since he makes his proffer through you, tell the creature Storri that I loathe him!" "Have a care, child!" This last was also from the magazine, and Mrs. Hanway-Harley got it off superbly. It missed fire, so far as Dorothy was concerned Dorothy, strung like a bow, and now in full rebellion.
"For my hand!" said Dorothy, beginning to pant. Mrs. Hanway-Harley looked up; there was a hardness in Dorothy's tone that was not only new, but unpleasant. Down deep in her nature, Dorothy hid those stubborn traits that distinguished her religious ancestor of the gate-post and the water-pan. "For your hand," repeated Mrs. Hanway-Harley uneasily. Dorothy making no return, Mrs.
At a shadow of sympathy she would have laid before Mrs. Hanway-Harley the last secret her bosom hid. There was no sympathy, nothing of mother's love; Mrs. Hanway-Harley, in the narrowness of her egotism, could consider no feelings not her own. "Don't; don't touch me!" she cried. "Don't add hypocrisy to your ingratitude!"
"Barbara," remarked Senator Hanway reprovingly, returning to the original bone of dispute, "why should you insist on this young man owning millions before he can think of Dorothy? You had nothing, John had nothing, when you married. You should remember these things." Mrs. Hanway-Harley refused to remember. There was no reason why she should.
Harley complacently sat down to dinner that particular New Year's evening, he had not been given a murmur of those loves and hates and commands and defiances and promises and intermediations which made busy the closing days of the recent year for Dorothy, Richard, Bess, Storri, and Mrs. Hanway-Harley. Mr.
Hanway-Harley's soul with radiance, restrain to what extent he might his contempt for that radiance and the reason of it, and with Dorothy on his arm march away to bliss forever after. No, he would not have Dorothy to the altar within the moment following the enthronement of Mrs. Hanway-Harley in the midst of that splendid happiness he plotted for her. He was not so precipitate.
When Senator Hanway came to Washington, John Harley and his wife, Barbara Hanway-Harley as she preferred to style herself, came with him. Senator Hanway made his home with the Harleys, when now he was a widower; and the trio, with the daughter, Dorothy named for the Senator's wife who lost her boot heel when Richard lost his heart, made up a family of four, and took their place in Capital annals.
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