“It seems so hard, either way, David,” she said looking up at him in a sympathetic way. “To follow the dictates of duty is so cold and 247 cruel a way, yet if you follow the dictates of your heart your conscience will accuse you. But you will, when you have to act, David, do what you believe to be right, and abide by the consequences. Either way, dear, is going to bring you unhappiness.”
“Which do you believe the right way, Carey?” he asked, looking searchingly into her mystic eyes.
“David,” she replied helplessly, “I don’t know! The more I think about it, the more complicated the decision seems.”
They discussed the matter at length, and he went home comforted by the thought that there was one who understood him, and who would abide in faith by whatever decision he made.
The next day, at the breakfast table, on the street, in his office, in the curious, questioning faces of all he encountered, he read the inquiry he was constantly asking himself and to which he had no answer ready. When he finally reached his office he summoned his private secretary.
“Major, don’t let in any more people than is 248 absolutely necessary to-day. I will see no reporters. You can tell them that no petition or request for the pardon of Jud Bramble has been received, if they ask, and oh, Major!”
The secretary turned expectantly.
“If Barnabas Brumble comes, of course he is to be admitted at once.”
Later in the morning the messenger to the governor stood at the window of the business office, idly looking out.
“Dollars to doughnuts,” he exclaimed suddenly and confidently, “that this is Barnabas Brumble coming up the front walk!”