Selma looked up.  “I like you very much, Mr. Lyons.  You, in your turn, must have realized that, I think.  As you say, we are no boy and girl.  You meant by that, too, that we both have been married before.  I have had two husbands, and I did not believe that I could ever think of marriage again.  I don’t wish you to suppose that my last marriage was not happy.  Mr. Littleton was an earnest, talented man, and devoted to me.  Yet I cannot deny that in spite of mutual love our married life was not a success—­a success as a contribution to accomplishment.  That nearly broke my heart, and he—­he died from lack of the physical and mental vigor which would have made so much difference.  I am telling you this because I wish you to realize that if I should consent to comply with your wishes, it would be because I was convinced that true accomplishment—­the highest accomplishment—­would result from the union of our lives as the result of our riper experience.  If I did not believe, Mr. Lyons, that man and woman as we are—­no longer boy and girl—­a more perfect scheme of happiness, a grander conception of the meaning of life than either of us had entertained was before us, I would not consider your offer for one moment.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Lyons exclaimed eagerly.  “I share your belief implicitly.  It was what I would have said only—­”

Despite his facility as an orator, Lyons left this sentence incomplete in face of the ticklish difficulty of explaining that he had refrained from suggesting such a hope to a widow who had lost her husband only two years before.  Yet he hastened to bridge over this ellipsis by saying, “Without such a faith a union between us must fall short of its sweetest and grandest opportunities.”

“It would be a mockery; there would be no excuse for its existence,” cried Selma impetuously.  “I am an idealist, Mr. Lyons,” she said clasping her hands.  “I believe devotedly in the mission and power of love.  But I believe that our conception of love changes as we grow.  I welcomed love formerly as an intoxicating, delirious potion, and as such it was very sweet.  You have just told me of your own feelings toward me, so it is your right to know that lately I have begun to realize that my association with you has brought peace into my life—­peace and religious faith—­essentials of happiness of which I have not known the blessings since I was a child.  You have dedicated yourself to a lofty work; you have chosen the noble career of a statesman—­a statesman zealous to promote principles in which we both believe.  And you ask me to share with you the labors and the privileges which will result from this dedication.  If I accept your offer, it must be because I know that I love you—­love you in a sense I have not loved before—­may the dead pardon me!  If I accept you it will be because I wish to perpetuate that faith and peace, and because I believe that our joint lives will realize worthy accomplishment.”  Selma looked into space with her wrapt gaze, apparently engaged in an intense mental struggle.