The vote in the House against the veto not merely fell short of the requisite two-thirds, but was less than a plurality, showing that the action of the chief magistrate had reversed the sentiment of the Legislature.  The force of Stringer’s opposition was practically killed by the Governor’s course.  He had staked everything on the chance that Lyons would see fit to sign the bill.  When the party caucus for the choice of a candidate for Senator was held a few days later, his followers recognized the hopelessness of his ambition and prevailed on him to withdraw his name from consideration.  Lyons was elected Senator of the United States by a party vote by the two branches of the Legislature assembled in solemn conclave.  Apparently Elton had realized that opposition was useless, and that he must bide his time for revenge.  Booming cannon celebrated the result of the proceedings, and Selma, waiting at home on the River Drive, received a telegram from the capital announcing the glad news.  Her husband was United States Senator, and the future stretched before her big with promise.  She had battled with life, she had suffered, she had held fast to her principles, and at last she was rewarded.

Lyons returned to Benham by the afternoon train, and a salute of one hundred guns greeted him on his arrival.  He walked from the station like any private citizen.  Frequent cheers attended his progress to his house.  In the evening the shops and public buildings were illuminated, and the James O. Lyons Cadets, who considered themselves partly responsible for his rapid promotion, led a congratulatory crowd to the River Drive.  The Senator-elect, in response to the music of a serenade, stepped out on the balcony.  Selma waited behind the window curtain until the enthusiasm had subsided; then she glided forth and showed herself at his elbow.  A fresh round of cheers for the Senator’s wife followed.  It was a glorious night.  The moon shone brightly.  The street was thronged by the populace, and glittered with the torches of the cadets.  Lyons stood bareheaded.  His large, round, smooth face glistened, and the moonbeams, bathing his chin beard, gave him the effect of a patriarch, or of one inspired.  He raised his hand to induce silence, then stood for a moment, as was his habit before speaking, with an expression as though he were struggling with emotion or busy in silent prayer.

“Fellow citizens of Benham,” he began, slowly, “compatriots of the sovereign State which has done me to-day so great an honor, I thank you for this precious greeting.  You are my constituents and my brothers.  I accept from your hands this great trust of office, knowing that I am but your representative, knowing that my mission is to bear constant witness to the love of liberty, the love of progress, the love of truth which are enshrined in the hearts of the great American people.  Your past has been ever glorious; your future looms big with destiny.  Still leaning on the God of our fathers, to whom our patriot sires have ever turned, and whose favors to our beloved country are seen in your broad prairies tall with fruitful grain, and your mighty engines of commerce, I take up the work which you have given me to do, pledged to remain a democrat of the democrats, an American of the Americans.”