Receiving no answer, he found relief in complete boldness.
“You see my prediction as to the result of the election has been justified?”
“You might even say pars magna fui.”
The retort slipped out. The impudent challenge had to be met. The Professor did not realize how contemptuously he spoke.
The womanish weakness in Hutchings sprang to hurried attack.
“At any rate you've no cause for reproach. I resigned chiefly to shield you. I told you long ago that I didn't want particularly to be Mayor, and the assault upon your position in the University decided me. There was no way to save your place except by giving Gulmore the victory he wanted. You're engaged to May, and May is fond of you: I'm not rich, and a post of three thousand dollars a year is not often to be found by a young man. What would you do if you were dismissed? I had to—sacrifice myself. Not that it matters much, but I've got myself into a fuss with the party, injured myself all round on your account, and then you talk as if you had some reason to be offended. That's hardly right, Professor.” The lawyer was satisfied with his case; his concluding phrase built a bridge for a magnanimous reconciliation.
“You wish me to believe that you resigned at the last moment without telling me of your intention in order to further my interests?” Mr. Hutchings was disagreeably shocked by the disdainful, incredulous question; Roberts was harder to blind than he had supposed; his indignation became more than half sincere.
“I didn't make up my mind till the last minute—I couldn't. It wasn't easy for me to leave the party I've fought with for ten years. And the consequences don't seem likely to be pleasant to me. But that doesn't signify. This discussion is useless. If you'll take my advice you'll think of answering the charge that will be brought against you in the Faculty meeting, instead of trying to get up a groundless accusation against me.” The menace in the words was not due solely to excitement and ill-temper. Mr. Hutchings had been at pains to consider all his relations with the Professor. He had hoped to deceive him, at least for the moment, and gain time—postpone a painful decision. He had begun to wish that the engagement between Roberts and May might be broken off. In six months or a year he would have to declare himself on Gulmore's side; the fact would establish his complicity, and he had feared what he now knew, that Roberts would be the severest of critics—an impossible son-in-law. Besides, in the East, as the daughter of a Member of Congress, May might command a high position—with her looks she could marry any one—while Roberts would be dismissed or compelled to resign his post. A young man without a career who would play censor upon him in his own house was not to be thought of. The engagement must be terminated. May could be brought to understand....
The Professor did not at once grasp the situation in so far as he himself was concerned. But he divined the cause of the lawyer's irritability, and refrained from pushing the argument further. The discussion could, indeed, serve no purpose, save to embitter the quarrel. He therefore answered quietly:
“I didn't come here to dispute with you. I came to see May. Is she in?”