Part 50 (1/2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A letter went that night from Fledra Vandecar to her husband in Albany.

It was written after the woman had paced her room for several hours in inexplicable disquietude and unrest. Puzzled, the governor read:

”_Dearest_.--

”I went today to see Ann Sh.e.l.lington, with my mind fully made up to speak to her about the boy and girl who have been with her for these last few months. Everett was here to dinner last night with me, and confided in me his trouble with Horace, which has finally culminated in a breach with Ann. It seems the difficulty arose over the case of the squatter from Ithaca who has demanded his children.

”Everett has taken the man's side, and until I called upon Ann I felt quite in sympathy with him. And still I cannot tell you, dearest Floyd, what changed my mind, unless it was the sight of that sick boy. He was sleeping when I went in, and was muttering over a babyish prayer, which quite touched me. I had no opportunity to talk with him, nor the girl either. She was riding with Horace, and Everett tells me that he (Horace) is quite infatuated with the child.

”I'm going to ask you, Floyd darling, to help Horace all you can, and if Everett comes to see you, as he said he was going to, I want you to know that it is my wish that you should keep to your policy with Ann and her brother. I cannot tell why I am writing you this, only that my heart aches for that boy, and that for years I have never felt so impelled to help a human being as I have him.

”I thought Everett might tell you that I was won to his way of thinking by his pleading how he wanted to remove Ann from contact with the boy and girl; so I hasten to write you. Kiss my precious Mildred for her mother, and, Floyd, dear, see to it that she doesn't stay up too late; for she is not strong. I cautioned Katherine about it; but I'm afraid she might yield to the child's entreaties.

”With fondest love to you, my darling, and to my baby and Katherine, I am,

”Your own loving wife, ”FLEDRA.”

The governor read and reread the letter, especially the part in which his wife implored him to aid Horace Sh.e.l.lington. He laid it down with a sigh. He well knew that Fledra's heart was tender toward all little ones since the disappearance of her own. All hope that he would ever see his twin children had left him years before, and now, for some moments, with his hand on the envelop, his mind wandered into hidden places, where he saw a boy and a girl growing to manhood and womanhood, and he groaned deeply.

Later, when Everett Brimbecomb was ushered into his office at the capital, the governor was primed with the sympathy that he had gathered from his wife's letter.

”This is something of a surprise, my dear boy,” he said. ”I did not know you were coming to Albany so soon.”

”I came with a purpose,” replied Everett; ”for, as you know, my father is away, and I need your advice in something.”

Vandecar waited for his visitor to proceed.

”Do you see any reason,” Everett stammered, ”why two young lawyers should not be friends, even if they have to take opposite sides in a lawsuit?”

”No,” replied the governor slowly.

”Then I'll lay the whole thing before you, and let you tell me what you think of it.”

”Have a cigar while we talk,” broke in Vandecar, offering Everett his case.

In silence they began to smoke, and both remained quiet until the governor said:

”Now, explain it to me, please.”

Everett began the story of the children's running away, as the squatter had told it to him, and of their coming to Horace. He did not forget to add that he believed Sh.e.l.lington had lied to him the night he came into the dining-room and discovered Fledra and Floyd with the two little animals. When a shade pa.s.sed over the governor's face, Everett quickly noted that he had made a mistake in the drawing of conclusions.

”Don't be too hasty, Everett,” cautioned Vandecar, shaking an ash deliberately from his cigar. ”Horace is the soul of truth. If he did not tell it to you, he had good reasons.”

Brimbecomb frowned. He could have bitten his tongue out for making that misstep.

”That's so,” he admitted. ”But, ever since last September, Horace, and I might say Ann, too, have drawn more and more away from me. For my part, I see no good that can come of their relations with squatters.”