The Best Man

I

DUSK had fallen, and the circle of light shed by the lamp of
Governor Mornway's writing-table just rescued from the surrounding
dimness his own imposing bulk, thrown back in a deep chair in the
lounging attitude habitual to him at that hour.

When the Governor of Midsylvania rested he rested completely. Five
minutes earlier he had been bowed over his office desk, an Atlas
with the State on his shoulders; now, his working hours over, he had
the air of a man who has spent his day in desultory pleasure, and
means to end it in the enjoyment of a good dinner. This freedom from
care threw into relief the hovering fidgetiness of his sister, Mrs.
Nimick, who, just outside the circle of lamplight, haunted the warm
gloom of the hearth, from which the wood fire now and then sent up
an exploring flash into her face.

Mrs. Nimick's presence did not usually minister to repose; but the
Governor's serenity was too deep to be easily disturbed, and he felt
the calmness of a man who knows there is a mosquito in the room, but
has drawn the netting close about his head. This calmness reflected
itself in the accent with which he said, throwing himself back to
smile up at his sister: "You know I am not going to make any
appointments for a week."

It was the day after the great reform victory which had put John
Mornway for the second time at the head of his State, a triumph
compared with which even the mighty battle of his first election
sank into insignificance, and he leaned back with the sense of
unassailable placidity which follows upon successful effort.

Mrs. Nimick murmured an apology. "I didn't understand--I saw in this
morning's papers that the Attorney-General was reappointed."

"Oh, Fleetwood--his reappointment was involved in the campaign. He's
one of the principles I represent!"

Mrs. Nimick smiled a little tartly. "It seems odd to some people to
think of Mr. Fleetwood in connection with principles."

The Governor's smile had no answering acerbity; the mention of his
Attorney-General's name had set his blood humming with the thrill of
the fight, and he wondered how it was that Fleetwood had not already
been in to clasp hands with him over their triumph.

"No," he said, good-humoredly, "two years ago Fleetwood's name
didn't stand for principles of any sort; but I believed in him, and
look what he's done for me! I thought he was too big a man not to
see in time that statesmanship is a finer thing than practical
politics, and now that I've given him a chance to make the
discovery, he's on the way to becoming just such a statesman as the
country needs."

"Oh, it's a great deal easier and pleasanter to