The Law Breakers and Other Stories
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Robert Grant >> The Law Breakers and Other Stories
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Edna nervously smoothed out the lap of her dress as though she
realized that she might be inflicting pain, but she raised her steady
eyes and said with pleasant firmness:
"You would have to, of course, wouldn't you? But Mr. Dale explained
that you would be expected to keep a special eye on the mechanical and
scientific interests of the firm. He said he had told you about them.
So all that would be in your line of work, wouldn't it?"
"I understand--I understand. It would amount to nothing from the point
of view of my special field of investigation," he answered a little
sternly. "What reply did you make to him, Edna?"
"I merely said that I would tell you of the offer; that I didn't know
what you would think."
"I wish you had refused it then and there."
"I couldn't do that, of course. The decision did not rest with me.
Besides, Morgan, I thought you might think that we could
not--er--afford to refuse it, and that as you would still be more or
less connected with scientific matters, you might regard it as a happy
compromise. Mr. Dale said," she continued with incisive clearness in
which there was a tinge of jubilation, "that on a conservative
estimate you could count on ten or twelve thousand dollars a year, and
his manner suggested that your share of the profits would be very much
more than that."
"The scientific part is a mere sop; it amounts to nothing. I should be
a banker, engaged in floating new financial enterprises and selling
their securities to the public."
There was a brief silence. Edna rose and seating herself on the sofa
beside him took his hands and said with solemn emphasis, "Morgan, if
you think you will be unhappy--if you are satisfied that this change
would not be the best thing for us, say so and let us give it up. Give
it up and we will never think of it again."
He looked her squarely in the face. "My God, Edna, I don't know what
to answer! It's a temptation. So many things would be made easy. It
comes to this, Is a man justified in refusing such an opportunity and
sacrificing his wife and children in order to be true to his----?"
She interrupted him. "If you put it that way, Morgan, we must decline.
If you are going to break your heart--"
"Or yours--"
"Morgan, whichever way you decide I shall be happy, provided only you
are sure. If you feel that you--we--all of us will be happier and
er--more effective human creatures going on as we are, it is your duty
to refuse Mr. Dale's offer."
"It's a temptation," murmured Morgan. "I must think it over, Edna. Am
I bound to resist it?"
"Bound?"
"You know I may never be heard of in science outside of a few partial
contemporaries." His lip quivered with his wan smile.
"That has really nothing to do with it," she asserted.
"I think it has, Edna," he said simply. Then suddenly the remembrance
of the conversation with his friend Randall recurred to him with vivid
clearness. He looked up into his wife's eyes and said, "After all,
dear, it really rests with you. The modern woman is man's helpmate and
counsellor. What do you advise?"
Edna did not answer for a few moments. Her open, sensible brow seemed
to be seeking to be dispassionate as a judge and to expel every
vestige of prejudice.
"It's a very close question to decide, Morgan. Of course, there are
two distinct sides. You ask me to tell you, as your wife, what I think
is wisest and best. I can't set it forth as clearly as I should
like--I won't attempt to give my reasons even. But somehow my instinct
tells me that if you don't accept Mr. Dale's offer, you will be sorry
three years hence."
"Then I shall accept, Edna, dear," he said.
Three years later I took Mrs. Sidney Dale out to dinner at the house
of a common friend in New York. In the course of conversation I
remarked, "I believe it is you, Mrs. Dale, who is responsible for the
metamorphosis in my friend, Morgan Russell."
"Is he a friend of yours?"
"An old friend since college days. I never saw any one so spruced up,
shall I call it? He has gained fifteen pounds, is growing whiskers,
and is beginning to look the embodiment of worldly prosperity."
"It is delightful to see them--both him and his wife. Yes, I suppose I
may claim to be responsible for rescuing him from obscurity. My
husband finds him a most valuable man in his business. I'm very fond
of Mrs. Russell. She hasn't the obnoxious ways of most progressive
women, and she certainly has executive ability and common sense. Being
such an indolent person myself, I have always been fascinated by her
spirit and cleverness. I'm glad she has been given a chance. They are
getting on nicely."
"I think she is in her element now. I was at their house the other
day," I continued blandly. "It seems that Edna is prominent in various
educational and philanthropic bodies, high in the councils of her
club, and a leading spirit in diverse lines of reform. They are
entertaining a good deal--a judicious sprinkling of the fashionable
and the literary. The latest swashbuckler romances were on the table,
and it was evident from her tone that she regarded them as great
American literature. Everything was rose color. Morgan came home while
I was there. His hands were full of toys for his children and violets
for his wife. He began to talk golf. It's a complete case of
ossification of the soul--pleasant enough to encounter in daily
intercourse, but sad to contemplate."
Mrs. Dale turned in her chair. "I believe you're laughing at me, Mr.
Randall. What is sad? And what do you mean by ossification of the
soul?"
Said I with quiet gravity, "Fifteen or twenty thousand dollars a year.
Morgan Russell's life is ruined--and the world had great hopes of
him."
Mrs. Dale, who is a clever person, in spite of her disclaimers, was
silent a moment. "I know what you mean, of course. But I don't agree
with you in the least. And you," she added with the air of a woman
making a telling point--"you the recently appointed attorney of the
paper trust, with a fabulous salary, you're the last man to talk like
that."
I regarded her a moment with sardonic brightness. "Mrs. Dale," I said,
"it grieves us to see the ideals of our friends shattered."
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