During the next few weeks Briggs was so busy with his political work that he practically lived away from home, returning there chiefly to sleep. Whenever he did pass a part of the day at home, he was shut up in the library, working with Guy over his mail, or in seeing callers. He perceived now for the first time how far he had drifted away from the party-moorings. From all sides he received warnings, sometimes covert, occasionally frank and threatening, that a determined opposition was to be made to his renomination. But, the nomination once secured, he felt sure that he could hold his former supporters and gain increased strength from the Independents, whom William Farley was trying to win over. Briggs kept in uninterrupted communication with Farley; he had begun to find the journalist extremely companionable. He recalled now with a secret shame that at first he had been suspicious of Farley, attributing an insidious selfishness to his motives; but in every emergency, Farley had shown himself to be open and generous and clean-minded. But it was Farley’s perfect confidence that most deeply touched Douglas Briggs. Sometimes Briggs wondered what Helen thought when she saw them working together, with Farley in a subordinate attitude. With her fine sense of character, a sense he had never known to err except with regard to himself, she must long ago have learned to appreciate the journalist’s character. Briggs wondered if she suspected that he was trying to use Farley. Once the thought made him boldly accuse himself. But he found a vindication in the thought that he was fighting his way against odds toward an honorable goal. Once elected to Congress, he would do everything in his power to atone for the wrong he had done. His future life would be not merely an expiation, but a vindication. He assured himself that if he were to falter now, he would be a coward. He was committed to his course.
As for Helen, she tried to keep her mind distracted from herself by the cares of the household, and she worked during most of the time that she did not spend with the children. Every day she came upon things with happy associations; once the sight of them would have given her pleasure; but now it only hurt her. She was constantly reminded, too, of what she now regarded as her extravagances. Why, they had been living as if they were millionaires! She blamed herself, not because she had spent so freely, but because she had not won her husband’s complete confidence. If she had shown more character, she argued, would he not have trusted her in everything? Would he not have kept her informed with regard to his condition? Why had he treated her, a woman and the mother of children, as if she were a child to be petted and to be maintained at any sacrifice in luxury? Sometimes this self-questioning caused her a kind of shame. In her unhappiness she wondered if he had not despised her for accepting so much unquestioningly. She understood now why some men regarded women as monsters of selfishness. Oh, she had been selfish and inconsiderate! Once she thought of going to Douglas and telling him just how she felt. But she had not sufficient courage. Besides, she knew that he would resent her pity for him. Then, too, he might think it was far too late for her to take that superior attitude.
Having decided to let Miss Munroe go, Helen dreaded the parting, not because she found the governess necessary, but because of the scene that the children would make. She was tempted to ask the girl to leave without telling the children she was going; but that would be too cruel, as well as underhanded. She feared, too, that the governess would tell the children that she intended to leave them. Miss Munroe had an exalted idea of her own importance, and would wish to make her going as difficult and as dramatic as possible. So when she gave the girl the usual notice, she had to be very careful. To her astonishment, Miss Munroe received it with what seemed like sublime heroism.
“I knew that things weren’t going right with you, Mrs. Briggs,” she said, “and that I should have to leave soon. I will look for another place. Of course,” she went on, her eyes filling with tears, “it will be hard to give up the children.”
“I know,” Helen said with a sigh, and at the moment she felt pity for the girl, and she wondered if she had not been unjust and foolish. But in future, she reflected, the children would be wholly hers.
“It’s too bad, isn’t it?” Miss Munroe went on with a brave smile, “to be with children long enough to feel almost as if they were your own, and then have to go away from them!”
Helen Briggs felt as if the muscles in her frame had become rigid. In spite of herself, her face hardened. “Please don’t tell them you are going,” she said, trying not to seem severe, and she thought she detected a look of triumph in the girl’s face.
“Very well,” said Miss Munroe, tightening her lips.
“I’ll write to some people that I know in Washington,” Helen resumed, speaking gently, “and see if they may not have a position for you. Their children——”
“Oh, I’d rather not live in Washington again,” Miss Munroe interrupted with dignity.