“I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have made me a very splendid proposition; twenty thousand dollars to a rural Congressman is a great deal of money, and as for the confidence you show in me, I feel it more than I can express.”
He was conscious that he was displaying wonderful nerve; when he began to speak he scarcely knew whether he could get through with a single sentence, but he had spoken with tolerable ease and composure. Of course, he must appear as if he would accept; he could not on the spur of the moment devise any plausible refusal; he must have time to think; but it was utterly impossible that he should consider the matter for a moment. He was not yet bad enough for that. If only he had remained honest! For nothing brings home a man’s evil-doing to him more than when he sees the result in a concrete form. His wrong-doing comes out of the regions of mind and morals, and becomes a tangible and visible thing, like an incarnate devil. He realises his sin when he receives the wages of sin.
Annette listened to every note in Crane’s voice, and heard there falseness. He was not happy, not grateful for the offer. But she, at least, thanked Senator Bicknell from the bottom of her heart for his kind wish to benefit them. When he finished speaking she leaned toward him and laid her hand on his, while her eyes glowed with a lambent light.
“I thank you—I thank you, not only for my husband and myself, but for our little children. It means an education for them—many things their father and I have longed that we might give them when they are older, but feared we could not.”
Senator Bicknell raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gallantly.
“My dear lady,” he said, “I am glad to oblige your husband, and I believe he will render a full equivalent for whatever he makes out of this transaction. And I have frankly told him that I think our co-operation in business will be a good thing for me politically. But the day I spent at your house, the kind hospitality to your husband’s friend, the sweetness of your home, the excellent behaviour of your children, quickened very much the interest I felt in Mr. Crane, and it was a factor in my effort to serve him. Come now, Crane,” said the Senator, tapping him on the shoulder, “all I ask is that when I am up for re-election, if you choose to contest the election with me, you will please leave Mrs. Crane at home. If ever she enters into the campaign, I am lost.”
“She will enter the campaign, but it will be for you,” replied Annette.
Crane then pulled himself together, and again expressed his appreciation of Senator Bicknell’s kindness, and asked when they could meet to go into details of the affair—a meeting at which Crane was determined to decline the benefits offered him.
“Oh, some day next week. I’ll let you know when I hear from Chicago,” replied the Senator, and after a little more desultory talk the Cranes rose to go.
“I took the liberty of sending your carriage away, and my chauffeur will take you home,” said the Senator, mindful of attentions to a pretty and pleasing woman.