“That is the Governor’s affair, not yours,” she said.
“True,” he answered. “Suppose we leave it with him.”
He turned to the waiting servant. “Ask the Governor to step here, please. Tell him it is important.” Then to Carmel. “It will not be embarrassing for you to see the Governor?”
“I came to see him.”
“Uninvited.”
She made no answer. She was frightened, quivering. What could she say? What could she do? When the Governor appeared and she was denounced to him as an intruder, as a woman who forced her way into a private entertainment, how could she reach his ear with her petition?... Would not the fact of her being an intruder make her case hopeless? She set her teeth. At any rate she would make a fight for it, and at worst there could be nothing but ignominious expulsion at the hands of some servant. The thought of that was unbearable. She was a woman, with a woman’s social consciousness and a woman’s delicacy. It seemed more terrible to her to be detected in such a breach of society’s laws than it would have been to be detected in a crime.... For a moment she was unnerved.
She thought of her mission; of the public importance of what she was doing and the excellence of the motives which had brought her to do the thing she had done. This availed little. The humiliation, the public humiliation, would be as terrible. She meditated flight.... But then there arose in her a stubbornness, a resolution. Back of it was this thought—“He is depending on me. He sent me to do this. He looks to me to succeed.” The he was emphasized. It did not occur to her to wonder how Evan Bartholomew Pell came to be of such importance to her in this moment, or why the fact that he was relying upon her should sustain her in this crisis. Nevertheless, it was so. She felt she would possess his approval, no matter what came, if she persisted, if she did not give up so long as there was the shadow of a chance of success. She felt, she knew, he would consider as negligible any sneer of society, any personal humiliation sustained. She knew he would persist, and from this she drew strength....
She saw a tall, handsome man approach the alcove. From dimly remembered lithographs she knew him to be the Governor, and as he approached in his dignified way, she studied him. He looked like a Governor. He was smooth-shaven, appearing younger than his years. He carried a look of authority, the presence of a personage. It was a fine presence, indeed, and one of incalculable value to him. It had been his chief asset in reaching the height to which he had climbed.... Her scrutiny told her nothing more than this. The man who approached might be a great man, a statesman, a man of tremendous depth and character—or he might be nothing but an appearance. She hoped he was a man.
He entered and extended his hand to Fownes. “Glad you ran up,” he said, cordially. “I saw you come in, but couldn’t break away. How is Gibeon?”
“Gibeon,” said Abner, “is flourishing.”