A deep blush suffused Annette’s face. The poverty and seclusion had been in a way forced upon her by him, but, being a woman of invincible discretion, she did not put her resentment into sarcastic words, or words at all. She stood by him silently, and, seeing that Crane was striving to speak, awaited his words gently, laying her free hand on his shoulder.
At last it came—a full confession—made in broken words and phrases, but of which Annette understood every word.
“I could have stood anything but his kindness,” said Crane, with a pale face of woe. “That unnerved me completely. I made up my mind I could not accept the money, and then it occurred to me that you had a right to be consulted, and immediately I felt a conviction as loud as a clap of thunder, as penetrating as lightning, that you would never in the world let me accept that money. Ah, Annette, what a thing it is to have an upright wife! To feel that however weak and wavering a man may be, that half of his soul, of his heart, of his possessions, the half owner of his children, stands like a rock for truth and honesty! Thorndyke was saying something to me the other day about a man being upright instead of being made to be upright. I tell you, there are many men who can be made good or bad—and I am one of them—by their wives. Many a poor wretch to-day is a rascal who might have led an honest and respected life if but he had had a high-minded wife like you. It is you who have saved me, and what a miserable return have I made you for all you have done for me!”
“What you have just said repays me for all, because, you know, I have always loved you—better than you cared to know, or than I cared to show during the last few years,” Annette answered, in a calm voice.
Crane rose and opened his arms to her. It was the sweetest moment of their lives. Shameful and dishonourable as Crane’s course had been, here was one person who loved him, believed in him, and, oh, wonder of love and faith, still honoured and trusted him!
After their first rapture of love and forgiveness, action occurred to Annette’s practical mind.
“Well, then,” she said, as if a course of conduct had at once been revealed to her, “you must at once withdraw from your agreement with Governor Sanders. Of course, he will do everything he can to defeat you——”
“And he will.”
“And we shall have to go back to Circleville and begin life over again. But I am sure you can do well at your profession, and, remember, there is as much chance for an ambitious man in law as in politics.”
“Yes, but you can’t imagine how the life gets hold of one. It seems like death to me to leave Congress—and when I was steadily rising, too—and to be driven out ignominiously by a creature like Sanders! But I must do it; you would not let me do otherwise.”