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that were at once racked with anguish and as hot as the forge, “was it Nathan who couldn’t put it to rest…or was it you?”
    “It was both of us,” Matthew said, truthfully.
    John gave a quiet grunt and looked away again. “I’m sorry about Nathan. He was tryin’ very hard to move on. But you wouldn’t let him, would you?”
    “I had no idea he was planning to kill himself.”
    “Maybe he wasn’t, until you kept pesterin’ him. Did you ever think about that?”
    In truth, Matthew had. It was something, though, that he’d forced away from himself; he couldn’t bear to admit to the shaving mirror that his pleadings with Nathan to make witness against Eben Ausley in front of Magistrate Powers and Chief Prosecutor James Bynes would result in a rope thrown over the rafters of the young man’s garret.
    “Nathan wasn’t well,” John Five went on. “In the head. He was weak. You should have known that, you bein’ such the scholar.”
    “I can’t bring him back, and neither can you,” Matthew said, with more spice than he’d meant; it sounded too much like the curt dismissal of responsibility. “We have to go on, from where we-”
    “We?” John scowled, an expression of menace not to be taken lightly. “What is this we? I haven’t said I wanted anythin’ to do with this. I’ve just listened to you talk, that’s all. For the sake that you’re such a high-collar now, and I have to say you’re a fine smooth talker, Matthew. But talkin’ can only go so far.”
    Matthew, as was his wont, took the initiative. “I agree. It is time for action.”
    “You mean time to put my neck in a noose too, don’t you?”
    “No, I do not.”
    “Well, that’s what would happen. I don’t mean hangin’ myself. No, I’d never do that. But I mean ruinin’ my life. And for what?” John Five drew a long breath and shook his head. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and almost disconsolate. “Ausley’s right. No one cares. No one will believe anythin’ that’s said again’ him. He has too many friends. From what you’ve told me, he’s lost too much money at them gamin’ tables to go behind bars, or be banished from the town. His debtors wouldn’t stand for it. So even if I spoke out-even if anyone spoke out-I’d be called a madman, or devil-possessed, or…who knows what would happen to me.”
    “If you’re afraid for your life, I can tell you that Magistrate Powers will-”
    “You talk and talk,” John Five said, and stepped forward upon Matthew with a grimness that made the elder man think their friendship-an orphans’ comraderie, as it were-was about to end with a broken jaw. “But you don’t listen,” John went on, though he checked his progress. He gazed toward the street, at the gents and ladies passing, at a horse-cart trundling by, at some children chasing each other and laughing as if all the world was a merriment. “I’ve asked Constance to be my wife. We’re to be joined in September.”
    Constance Wade, Matthew knew, had been John’s love for nearly a year. He never thought John would get up the nerve to ask her, since she was the daughter of that stern-faced, black-garbed preacher William Wade, the man of whom it was said birds hushed singing when he cast the unblinking eye of God at them. Of course Matthew was happy for John Five, for Constance was certainly a fair maid and had a quick and lively mind, but he knew also what this meant.
    John didn’t speak for a moment, and Matthew likewise held his tongue in check. Then John said, “Phillip Covey. Have you asked him?”
    “I have. He steadfastly refuses.”
    “Nicholas Robertson? John Galt?”
    “Both I’ve asked, several times. Both have refused.”
    “Then why me, Matthew? Why keep comin’ to me?”
    “Because of what you’ve gone through. Not only from Ausley, but before. The Indian raid. The man who took you around and made you dance in the taverns. All that being knocked down, all that darkness and trouble.