The next morning after breakfast Helen Briggs followed her husband into
the study. “I want to speak to you, Douglas,” she said.
“Well?” He looked embarrassed, as he always did now on finding himself
alone with her.
“It is about this house,” she went on. “Have you done anything about
renting it this Winter?”
“No,” he replied, betraying a little impatience. “I’ve had other things
to think about. Besides, I shall be over here now and then.”
“But it would hardly pay to keep the house open for that,” she
insisted, gently. “Besides, it would be gloomy for you here----”
“Alone?” he said, sharply, looking up at her. “Yes,” he repeated,
dryly, “it would be lonely.” He lifted his hand to his head. “I suppose
you’re right about that,” he sighed. “I’ll speak to an agent to-morrow.
We can doubtless rent it furnished. Still, it’s a little late in the
season,” he concluded, vaguely.
“I shall want to have some of our things sent to Waverly,” she said. “I
thought I would begin to get them together to-day.”
“Oh, don’t begin to break up till we’re ready to get out of here!” he
exclaimed. “Wait till after the election. Besides, I expect Franklin
West over in a few days, and I don’t want him to come into an empty
house.” He was glad of the chance to mention West’s coming in this
indirect way. He kept his eyes turned from his wife.
After a moment of silence she said, in a low voice: “He is coming here?”
He gave her a quick glance. “Yes; why not?”
She moved slightly, but she did not answer. She grew slightly paler.
“I know you don’t like him,” he went on, angry with himself for taking
an apologetic attitude, “but surely you won’t object to his staying
here a day or two. You’ve never objected before.”
“I didn’t know him then as I do now,” she said.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked, angrily. Then, when he saw that
she had no reply to make, he went on, in a more conciliatory tone:
“It will be impossible for me to avoid asking him. You know perfectly
well----”
The blood had rushed to her face. “If he comes, Douglas,” she said, “I
can’t stay here.”
He walked swiftly toward her and rested his hand on one of the chairs.
His eyes shone. “I’ve stood enough of this behavior from you, Helen,
and now I’m going to put my foot down. You sha’n’t stir out of this
house. You’ll stay here, and you’ll receive Franklin West as you
receive all my other friends. He knows you’re here, and I don’t propose
to allow him to be insulted by your leaving. Do you understand?”
Helen bowed. “Perfectly,” she said, in a whisper.
“Then you’ll do as I say?”
“No,” she replied, quietly. “I’ll go. I’ll leave this very morning.”
“Then if you leave,” he said, “you’ll leave for good.”
“As you please.” Helen turned and walked slowly toward the door. He
watched her angrily. As she opened the door she leaned against it
heavily and caught her breath in a sob.
He stepped forward quickly and took her in his arms. “Helen,” he cried,
brokenly, “I didn’t mean that! I didn’t know what I was saying! It’s
because I love you that I’m so harsh with you. Can’t you see I’ve been
in hell ever since this trouble began? Everything I’ve done has been
done for you. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve done wrong. I’ve got into a
terrible mess. But God knows I want to get out of it; and I will get
out of it, if you’ll only have patience. I hate that man West as much
as you do. But I can’t throw him down now. It would mean ruin for me.
Only listen to reason, won’t you? Besides, you haven’t anything against
West. Hasn’t he always treated you civilly?” He hesitated, watching the
tears that ran down her cheeks. “Well, hasn’t he? Answer me, Helen.”
She drew herself away from him. She had a sudden temptation to tell him
the whole truth. It seemed for an instant as if this avowal might clear
up the whole trouble between them. Then she thought of what the other
consequences might be, and she checked herself. “I can’t tell you,
Douglas. You must not ask me to meet him again. I can’t look him in the
face. The mere sight of him terrifies me.”
He looked helplessly at her, thinking that he understood the full
meaning of her words. Then he turned away. “I never thought I should
drag you into this, Helen,” he said, bitterly. “I--I don’t blame you.
Of course, I know it is all my fault.”
“Then why not undo this fault?” she cried. “Why not----?”
He held out his hand despairingly. “Don’t!” he exclaimed. “You don’t
understand. You can’t. You women never can.”
She dried her eyes and was about to leave the room. “Since you are
determined not to have him here,” her husband remarked, with a
resumption of reproach in his tone, “I’ll not ask him to stay. I’ll
offer some excuse.”
During the rest of the day they did not refer to West again. The next
morning Briggs looked for a letter from him from Boston, but none came.
Two days later he received a brief note that West had dictated to his
stenographer in Washington. Pressing business had called him home; he
had not even stopped over in New York. So that scene with Helen might
have been avoided, after all, Briggs thought, with a sigh. He tried
to forget about the episode, however, and during the next few days
the pressure of campaign work absorbed him. The Citizens’ Club had
endorsed his candidacy, and their support, he believed, would more
than counterbalance the opposition within his own party. During the
day he either received the crowds of importunate visitors, chiefly
constituents with axes to grind, who seemed to think his time belonged
to them, or he was working up the speeches that he was to deliver at
night. He had long before ceased to write out what he intended to say;
a few notes written on a card gave him all the cues he needed. He
spent considerable time, however, in poring over statistics and over
newspapers, from which he culled most of his material.
One morning, about two weeks before the election was to be held,
Michael appeared in the library with a card and the announcement that
the lady was waiting in the reception room.
“Miss Wing!” said Briggs, absently. “Where have I seen that name? What
can she want with me?” Then his face brightened. “Oh, yes, I remember.”
He looked serious again. “Why should she come here, to take up my time?
I don’t believe I--Well, show her in, Michael,” he said, impatiently.
Miss Wing wore one of her most extravagant frocks. When Douglas Briggs
offered his hand and greeted her, her face grew radiant.
“How good of you to remember me, Congressman. But then it’s part of
your business to remember people, isn’t it?” she said, archly.
“It’s pretty hard work sometimes. But I remember you perfectly.”
“That’s very flattering, I’m sure.” Miss Wing sank into the seat Briggs
had placed for her. “Well, Congressman, I’ve come on a disagreeable
errand.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Briggs, with a smile.
“But with the best intentions in the world,” Miss Wing hastened to
explain.
“That makes it all right, then.”
“It’s about--Well, I suppose I might come to the point at once. It’s
connected with the Transcontinental Railway.”
“M’m! Aren’t your readers tired of hearing about that?”
Miss Wing shook her head. “Not when there are new and exciting
developments,” she said, insinuatingly.
“Such as what?”
Miss Wing waited for a moment. “Well, thus far the papers have spared
Mrs. Briggs.”
“Mrs. Briggs? What has Mrs. Briggs to do with that railroad?” In spite
of his effort to keep his self-control, Douglas Briggs betrayed anger
in his voice.
“Simply this,” Miss Wing went on, coolly. “I warn you it’s very
unpleasant. But I--I consider it my duty to tell you.”
“Go ahead, then.”
Miss Wing fell into a dramatic attitude, her right hand extended and
resting on her parasol. “I happen to know that Mr. Franklin West has
taken advantage of his hold on you to make love to your wife.”
Briggs rose from his seat. “This is the worst yet,” he said, in a low
voice.
Miss Wing lifted her eyebrows. “You don’t believe it?”
“Of course I don’t,” he replied, contemptuously.
“But I saw him with my own eyes. You’re still incredulous, aren’t
you? It was the night of your ball in Washington. Mr. West was with
Mrs. Briggs in the library. I saw him threaten her, and I saw that
she was frightened. Knowing your relations--excuse me, but I must be
frank--knowing your relations, it wasn’t hard for me to understand what
he was saying.”
Briggs looked angrily at his visitor. “Why have you come to me with
this vile story?” he cried.
Miss Wing met his looks without flinching. “In the first place, because
I thought you ought to know it.”
“That was why you waited for six months to tell me?” he said,
scornfully.
“No. I waited because of my second reason. I knew that if you were
nominated again the information would be more valuable to me. There!”
“How, more valuable?”
“You public men are so dull at times! It’s simply that I--well, I don’t
want to publish the story, though it is a beautiful story. It’s not
only a splendid sensation, but it’s a touch of romance in your stupid
politics.”
“You want me to pay you not to publish the story--is that it?”
Miss Wing grew serious. “Exactly!”
Briggs smiled coldly. “Well, you’ve come to the wrong man. I’ve done
a good many things in my career that I regret, but I’ve never yet
submitted to blackmail.”
“That’s a hard word, Mr. Briggs.” Miss Wing glared at Briggs, but he
made no comment. “You prefer, then, to have your wife’s name disgraced,
perhaps?” she said.
“I tell you the whole story is a lie!”
“You believe that I’ve made it up, do you?”
Briggs laughed contemptuously. “Put any construction on my words that
you please,” and he jammed his hand over the bell on the table beside
him. “But let me tell you this, once for all: Not to protect my wife or
myself will I be cajoled into paying one cent. Publish your article. Do
all the mischief you can!”
Miss Wing rose indignantly. “I’ll queer your election for you!” she
cried, as Michael entered.
“Show this lady out, Michael,” said Briggs, quietly.