Two hours later Crane re-entered the house and went softly to his own rooms. As he noiselessly opened the door of the drawing-room he saw that Annette had fallen asleep in the great chair in which she had found him. She had thrown a fur cape around her bare neck and arms, but it had slipped partly away, leaving her white throat exposed. There were traces of tears upon her cheeks, but her face, though mournful, was placid—and how young she looked! It seemed impossible that she should be the mother of two children as old as Roger and Elizabeth.
As Crane approached her quietly, she stirred, opened her eyes, and sat up, in full possession of her wits. Crane drew a chair up and took both her hands in his.
“I haven’t felt so at ease in my mind since the day last summer that I first met Governor Sanders. I have repented and confessed.”
“That is good,” said Annette, in a clear voice.
“I found Senator Bicknell just where I had left him, in his den; I told him the whole story—how I had yielded, because I was poor and ambitious, where a better man would have resisted. I told him there was no fear of my falling away this time; that you would not let me; and if I had kept you with me, and had taken you more into my confidence, I believe I should never have entered into this damnable bargain with Sanders. The Senator was staggered at first. I don’t believe the slightest idea of my being disloyal to him had entered his head, but as soon as he recovered from the first shock he behaved nobly. I told him that I had not written a line to Sanders, he had not loaned me a penny, although I had expected to call upon him the first of January. Then Senator Bicknell said:
“‘So, you have not committed any overt act against me?’
“‘No,’ I said, ‘but chiefly because the time was not ripe.’
“‘You have, so far, only agreed to betray me?’
“I said yes, but that was crime enough. He reflected a while, and then he held out his hand and said:
“‘Let bygones be bygones. Sanders will make you pay for this, and that will be punishment enough. But I am ready and willing to believe that, no matter how much you might have agreed to knife me, when the time came you wouldn’t have done it. At the first moment we meet in private, at the first hint of kindness on my part, your resolution to do me wrong melts away. That must count.’