Her story ended there, and she sat silent while he continued to look at her. So much had perished in the wreck of his faith that he did not attach much value to what remained. It scarcely mattered that he believed her when the truth was so sordid. There had been, after all, nothing to envy him for but what Mrs. Nimick had seen; the core of his life was as mean and miserable as his sister’s….
His wife rose at length, pale but still calm. She had a kind of external dignity which she wore like one of her rich dresses. It seemed as little a part of her now as the finery of which his gaze contemptuously reckoned the cost.
“John—” she said, laying her hand on his shoulder.
He looked up wearily. “You had better go to bed,” he interjected.
“Don’t look at me in that way. I am prepared for your being angry with me—I made a dreadful mistake and must bear my punishment: any punishment you choose to inflict. But you must think of yourself first—you must spare yourself. Why should you be so horribly unhappy? Don’t you see that since Mr. Fleetwood has behaved so well we are quite safe? And I swear to you I have paid back every penny of the money.”
VI
THREE days later Shackwell was summoned by telephone to the Governor’s office in the Capitol. There had been, in the interval, no communication between the two men, and the papers had been silent or non-committal.
In the lobby Shackwell met Fleetwood leaving the building. For a moment the Attorney-General seemed about to speak; then he nodded and passed on, leaving to Shackwell the impression of a face more than ever thrust forward like a weapon.
The Governor sat behind his desk in the clear autumn sunlight. In contrast to Fleetwood he seemed relaxed and unwieldy, and the face he turned to his friend had a gray look of convalescence. Shackwell wondered, with a start of apprehension, if he and Fleetwood had been together.
He relieved himself of his overcoat without speaking, and when he turned again toward Mornway he was surprised to find the latter watching him with a smile.
“It’s good to see you, Hadley,” the Governor said.
“I waited to be sent for; I knew you’d let me know when you wanted me,” Shackwell replied.
“I didn’t send for you on purpose. If I had, I might have asked your advice, and I didn’t want to ask anybody’s advice but my own.” The Governor spoke steadily, but in a voice a trifle too well disciplined to be natural. “I’ve had a three days’ conference with myself,” he continued, “and now that everything is settled I want you to do me a favor.”
“Yes?” Shackwell assented. The private issues of the affair were still wrapped in mystery to him, but he had never had a moment’s doubt as to its public solution, and he had no difficulty in conjecturing the nature of the service he was to render. His heart ached for Mornway, but he was glad the inevitable step was to be taken without further delay.
“Everything is settled,” the Governor repeated, “and I want you to notify the press that I have decided to reappoint Fleetwood.”
Shackwell bounded from his seat. “Good heavens!” he ejaculated.
“To reappoint Fleetwood,” the Governor repeated, “because at the present juncture of affairs he is the only man for the place. The work we began together is not finished, and I can’t finish it without him. Remember the vistas opened by the Lead Trust investigation—he knows where they lead and no one else does. We must put that inquiry through, no matter what it costs us, and that is why I have sent for you to take this letter to the ‘Spy.’”
Shackwell’s hand drew back from the proffered envelope.
“You say you don’t want my advice, but you can’t expect me to go on such an errand with my eyes shut. What on earth are you driving at? Of course Fleetwood will persist in refusing.”
Mornway smiled. “He did persist—for three hours. But when he left here just now he had given me his word to accept.”
Shackwell groaned. “Then I am dealing with two madmen instead of one.”
The Governor laughed. “My poor Hadley, you’re worse than I expected. I thought you would understand me.”
“Understand you? How can I, in heaven’s name, when I don’t understand the situation?
“The situation—the situation?” Mornway repeated slowly. “Whose? His or mine? I don’t either—I haven’t had time to think of them.”
“What on earth have you been thinking of then?”
The Governor rose, with a gesture toward the window, through which, below the slope of the Capitol grounds, the roofs and steeples of the city spread their smoky mass to the mild air.
“Of all that is left,” he said. “Of everything except Fleetwood and myself.”
“Ah—” Shackwell murmured.
Mornway turned back and sank into his seat. “Don’t you see that was all I had to turn to? The State—the country—it’s big enough, in all conscience, to fill a good deal of a void! My own walls had grown too cramped for me, so I just stepped outside. You have no idea how it simplified matters at once. All I had to do was to say to myself: ‘Go ahead, and do the best you can for the country.’ The personal issue simply didn’t exist.”
“Yes—and then?”
“Then I turned over for three days this question of the Attorney-Generalship. I couldn’t see that it was changed—how should my feelings have affected it? Fleetwood hasn’t betrayed the State. There isn’t a scar on his public record—he is still the best man for the place. My business is to appoint the best man I can find, and I can’t find any one as good as Fleetwood.”
“But—but—your wife?” Shackwell stammered.
The Governor looked up with surprise. Shackwell could almost have sworn that he had indeed forgotten the private issue.
“My wife is ready to face the consequences,” he said.
Shackwell returned to his former attitude of incredulity.
“But Fleetwood? Fleetwood has no right to sacrifice—”
“To sacrifice my wife to the State? Oh, let us beware of big words. Fleetwood was inclined to use them at first, but I managed to restore his sense of proportion. I showed him that our private lives are only a few feet square anyhow, and that really, to breathe freely, one must get out of them into the open.” He paused and broke out with sudden violence, “My God, Hadley, didn’t you see that Fleetwood had to obey me?”
“Yes—I see that,” said Shackwell, with reviving obstinacy. “But if you’ve reached such a height and pulled him up to your side it seems to me that from that standpoint you ought to get an even clearer view of the madness of your position. You say you have decided to sacrifice your own feelings and your wife’s—though I’m not so sure of your right to dispose of her voice in the matter; but what if you sacrifice the party and the State as well, in this transcendental attempt to distinguish between private and public honor? You’ll have to answer that before you can get me to carry this letter.”
The Governor did not blanch under the attack.
“I think the letter will answer you,” he said calmly.
“The letter?”