The Mayor of Warwick

by Herbert M. Hopkins

If the speaker's first stare had failed of its effect, his words now interpreted it and gave it significance. The lawyer's jauntiness dropped off, as if a modicum of respect for this man had found its way into his calculating soul. Here was no poor devil of a conductor, but the mayor of Warwick, a very different person; and though he was surprised in an adventure of gallantry, he intended to carry it off with a high hand, as nobody's business but his own. Cobbens reflected that the mayor's companion might well be a respectable girl, perhaps his fiancée. Now he was quick to see his trespass and to mend his manner.

"Why, of course," he assented graciously. "Don't let us hurry you. The fact is, we all came in here before we noticed the room was occupied, to leave our wraps. Quaint old place, isn't it? I fancy Washington could have touched the ceiling with his hand. There's a fire in the larger room, I believe."

The party took the hint and filed out in silence, leaving Emmet and Lena in possession of the field. But to the mayor the victory appeared only half won, for Lena had risen to her feet at their first entrance, as if to remain standing in the presence of her superiors, thereby discounting his own assurance. Now she flushed beneath his look of speechless indignation and reproach. If she had only supported him! If she had only realised what a beauty she was in contrast with the other women! As superior as he knew himself to be to that little Cobbens, or to the bland and elephantine husband of Mrs. Parr.

No words now passed between them, but in the other room the chatter continued, though in a more subdued key. Emmet knew well that they were only waiting for him to depart to break forth into excited comments; and presently he heard the phrase, "What assurance!" followed by a lull, as if some one had made a cautioning gesture. Then the somewhat dilapidated piano began to tinkle, as it could tinkle only under the mincing fingers of Mrs. Parr. Had her random notes been given a name, they might have been called Mrs. Parr's Tale of a Wayside Inn.

Emmet realised that the fat was in the fire. If he were only free, he reflected bitterly, how little he would now care what they thought or said! He would take Lena as his wife and make a lady of her, and force her down their throats by the power of the money he meant to win. Position was something, but money everything. Let him once get their husbands and sons in his debt, and every door would open wide. With Felicity as his wife, his acceptance was assured; but in his present mood he scorned to make his entry in such a manner. Now, if he spelled aright the handwriting on the wall, he might remain forever on the outside of the citadel he had thought to storm. He rose to his feet and paid his bill with a rueful conviction that he had fought not wisely, though so well.

The very action, the very throwing down of the money, somehow restored his earlier exhilaration, the assurance of a man who can pay the bill. It seemed symbolic of future accounts of whatever kind, all of which he meant to square. The web he had woven for himself was now so complete, his discomfiture so inevitable, that his spirits rose to meet the odds he had arrayed against himself.

Lena, divining his change of moods, but little realising their depths and heights, was tenderly grateful. He had stood up for her before them all, and her wildest hope was fulfilled. As they drove from the inn yard, she seized his left hand, which he was about to thrust into his glove, and pressed it tremulously to her lips. In this way she thanked him for what she thought he had done for her, for what in reality he could never do; and at the touch of her soft lips his accusing conscience spoke to him in no uncertain voice.

During the homeward drive she was unexpectedly easy upon him. An innate womanly tact warned her not to speak of the incident as committing him to her before the world. For the second time that evening she showed the wisdom of a daughter of Eve in dealing with one of the sons of men; but her gaiety, a new sparkle in her eyes, a new vibration in her laugh, told him unmistakably the secret joyousness of her heart. He had a glimpse also of what she might be under happier circumstances; he saw how the bud which was even now so sweet could unfold in love's sunlight; he imagined the possibility of their life together; but none the less he determined that now at last he must break away from her forever.

The immutable fact remained that he was married to Felicity. Though he had ceased to attend his own church from the days of his boyhood, the Catholic doctrine of the indissolubility of marriage remained as one of his traditions, and this too in spite of the fact that he had been married by a Protestant priest. He had not committed the one sin which his wife's church recognised as the only cause for divorce. There was no escape from his obligation, provided his wife would forgive him and take him back. Her wrong to him had borne the bitter fruit of his wrong to this defenceless girl. Let her come back—she could not come too soon—and face him with his faithlessness. He would tell her what she had done, and bid her to forgive him or not, as she chose.

The wind was now at their backs, and having slackened its velocity until it approximated their pace, it seemed to have died down altogether, leaving them to glide along in a dead calm. Emmet looked up at the stars, which had never seemed to shine with such peculiar brilliancy, and thought of Leigh. There was the one man in whom he could confide. None of his old acquaintances could be trusted with such a vital secret. The astronomer bore no part in the struggles and jealousies about him. His very occupation at that moment invested him in Emmet's eyes with something of the impartiality and spiritual aloofness of the seer. It did not occur to him to seek the help of the confessional, to make his peace with the church from whose instruction, even as a boy, he had fled to the public schools, in spite of his mother's disapproval and the angry protests of his parish priest. That very night he would go to Leigh, if not for advice, at least for sympathy and understanding.