The Hundredth Chance
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She controlled the curious excitement that possessed her, and slowly set her fingers once more on the keys. She played the old refrain again, singing it very softly, listening intently while she sang. This time she was sure-quite sure-that a man's voice hummed the air. She went on to the end, and suffered her hands to fall.
"Charlie!" she said, without turning.
There came a slight sound behind her, the click as of a spring catch. She looked round, and saw him standing against the high panelling of the wall.
"What a childish game to play!" she said, with lips that slightly trembled.
"We are all children," observed Saltash. "We may think ourselves mighty clever, but the fact remains. Greeting, my queen rose! I am enchanted to see you."
He came forward, his black brows working comically, his queer ugly face smiling a welcome.
In spite of herself, Maud smiled in answer. "But why did you pretend you weren't at home?" she said, in a voice of protest.
He laughed as he took her hand. "But I wasn't," he said. "I motored down on purpose to receive you. Are you so disappointed?"
She shook her head, but she still looked at him somewhat dubiously. "You know, Charlie," she said, "I like people to behave quite straightforwardly, and to tell the truth."
"Heavens above!" laughed Saltash. "Why so grievously moral? Well, look here, let me be quite, quite honest, and admit that it was wholly by chance that I came down here to-day. Chance or the beneficent will of the gods! Call it what you will! And, my dear girl, don't be prudish now you are married! Remember, that though it is a state of bondage there are certain liberties attached that are well worth having. Now, you are going to play and sing to me while I smoke and admire."
He turned from her and threw himself upon a low settee in the window embrasure. The scent of his cigarette came to her, aromatic, Eastern, fragrant of many subtleties. She breathed it as one who inhales the magic of the gods.
"Now, play!" he commanded, his strange, restless eyes upon her. "Play as the spirit moves you! Never mind me! I am of no account."
She had done it often before in the old days. It was not difficult to do it now, with the spell of his personality upon her. Her own spirit responded instinctively to the call of his. The sympathy between them became communion. She began to play, and, playing, lost herself in the music as one inspired.
Saltash lay without moving, as if half-asleep. He also seemed as one under a charm.
And Maud played on and on, seeing visions, steeping her soul in romance, forgetful wholly of the chain by which she was bound; forgetful also of her companion, or perhaps so merged in his individuality as to be unaware of any dividing line. It was the old, sweet dreamland that had always held them both.
Time passed, and the red sun with it. The early dark began to fall, the shining visions to wane. She came out of her trance at last with a deep sigh, and suffered her hands to fall.
Instantly Saltash sat up. "Bravo, ma belle reine! Your touch is like velvet to the senses. You have scarcely sung to me at all. But no matter! You have closed the gates now, and we can't go back. But wasn't it good? Come, be honest and say so."
She lifted her eyes to his with something of her dream still lingering there. "It was-very good," she said.
"And you'll come again?" he insinuated.
The dream began to fade. With her right hand she picked out a nervous little air on the piano, saying no word.
He leaned towards her. "Maud," he insisted, "surely you'll come again!"
"I don't know," she said slowly.
"Surely!" he said again.
Her eyes grew troubled. "Charlie," she said, her fingers still softly pressing the keys, "I can't come here when you are here. I like to come, – oh yes, I like to come. But I mustn't."
"Why not?" said Saltash. "Afraid of the cow-puncher?"
She shrank, and struck a sudden discordant chord. "I am not afraid of anyone, but I must think of appearances. I owe it to myself. I should like to come sometimes and play. But-with you here-I can't."
"All right," he said abruptly. "I'll go."
Her eyes flashed up to his. She took her hand from the piano and gave it to him. "You are going to be a true friend to me, Charlie," she said.
He smiled rather wryly. "My friendship is to take a somewhat negative form, it seems to me, but perhaps it will stand the strain. Have you heard anything yet about the American doctor?"
She shook her head. "No, nothing."
"And you have not laid my proposal before Jake, I gather?" he pursued, boldly keeping her hand in his.
"Not yet," she said.
"Have you given the matter your own august consideration?" he asked.
Her hand began to fidget for freedom. "I have thought about it, Charlie. I have not quite made up my mind. But you mustn't be hurt if I say No."
"I shan't be hurt," he said, slowly relaxing his hold so that her hand slipped free. "But I shall think that your love of propriety somewhat outweighs your love for Bunny."
She flushed, and turned aside to take up her gloves in silence.
He stood and watched her. "That is so like you," he said, after a moment.
She glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
He laughed lightly, but without mockery. "Your stately silences! Do you know I remember you best by your silences? It is there that you differ from all the rest of your charming sex. Other women, when they are misjudged, clamour for redress. You endure in silence, too proud to complain. I wonder if Jake has realized your silences yet."
Maud stiffened a little. "I must be going," she said. "I promised Bunny I would be back to tea."
"I'll walk back with you," Saltash said.
She shook her head. "No, I would rather go alone."
"Why don't you tackle the situation boldly and ask me to tea?" he said.
She was walking down the long room, and he sauntered beside her, smoking a cigarette, careless and debonair.
"I think it wiser not, Charlie," she said.
He laughed. "As you will. But remember, life is short. We may as well enjoy ourselves, while it lasts. Did old Billings show you up here? He is the one respectable feature of this establishment."
"Yes, he certainly is respectable," she agreed, with a smile. "But where were you when I came in? You didn't come through this door."
He laughed again in a fashion half-mocking, half-secretive. "That is my affair, ma belle reine. Some day I may show you-several things; but that day has not dawned yet."
He threw open the door, and they found the great hall below them ablaze with electric light. "I suppose I may accompany you downstairs," he observed.
"What a wonderful place it is!" Maud said.
Her eyes went almost involuntarily to the statue that had arrested her attention on entering. It shone from its niche with a white splendour that seemed to give forth light.
"My Captured Angel has the place of honour by night and by day," said Saltash. "I have been wanting you to see her, or perhaps it would be more correct to say, I have been wanting to see you together. Have you ever met your other self before?"
"My other self?" She looked at him interrogatively.
He made her a quizzical bow. "Have you never seen that face before?"
She descended the stairs, and approached the statue. They stood together before it. She had desired to see it in solitude before, but with Saltash by her side that desire had left her. They viewed it from the same standpoint, in that subtle communion of spirit that had always characterized their intercourse.
And she saw-as he saw-her own features carved in the marble, piteous, tragic, alive.
"Poor Captured Angel!" murmured Saltash softly. "So fair of face, so sad of soul!"
She did not respond. She felt as if in that recognition something had pierced her heart. It was like a revelation of things to come. So for awhile she stood, gazing upon that tragic figure of broken womanhood; and finally in silence turned away.
He went with her to the door, but he did not offer a second time to accompany her farther. On the threshold she gave him her hand in farewell.
"You will come again?" he said.
She met his strange, unstable eyes for a moment and fancied that they pleaded with her.
"Not to see you, Charlie," she said, and was conscious in a vaguely troubled way that the words cost her an effort.
His eyes flashed her a laugh. "No, not to see me," he said lightly. "Of course not. Just for your own enjoyment. You will enjoy that piano, you know. And you can have it all to yourself."
She smiled in spite of herself even against her will. "Very well," she said. "I will come again some day, And thank you very much."
"Oh, don't do that!" he protested. "It spoils everything."
She released her hand, and turned from him, still smiling. "Good-bye!" she said.
"Farewell, Queen of the roses!" he made light response.
She passed through the wide stone porch and out into the dark of the winter evening.
CHAPTER XXX
THE RISING CURRENT
It was very dark along the avenue of pine-trees, darker than she had anticipated. She almost wished that she had allowed Saltash to accompany her. She went as quickly as she dared in the gloom, conscious that it was growing late. The road wound considerably, and she could not see the lamp at the gates. Overhead a rising wind moaned desolately through the pines. They swayed and creaked as though whispering together. Very soon the lights of the Castle were obscured behind her, and she was in almost total darkness.
She pressed on with an uneasy suspicion that it must be later than she had thought. Doubtless Jake had wheeled Bunny back to the house long before. Bunny knew whither she had gone, so they would not be anxious about her; but they would wonder why she was so late. The afternoon had fled away like a dream.
She began to quicken her steps somewhat recklessly, but the road curved more abruptly than she realized, and she presently ran into the grassy bank, nearly falling into the outstretched arms of a fir-tree. She recovered herself sharply with a gasp of dismay, and paused to try to discern more clearly the winding of the way. It was at this point that there came to her the sound of advancing footsteps. Someone was approaching with a slow, purposeful stride that suddenly sent the blood to her heart in a quick wave of something that was almost apprehension. She stood quite still and waited.
Nearer and nearer came the leisurely tread. Instinct, blind and unreasoning, prompted her to draw back into the shielding recesses of the tree with a desperate desire to escape notice. It was a footfall that she had come to know, and-why she could not have said-she did not want to meet Jake at that moment. With a very curious dread at her heart she stood and waited.
He came to within a couple of yards of her, and stopped. "You can come out," he remarked dryly. "It's just you I've come along to fetch."
His voice was perfectly quiet and natural, but there was that in the words that fired within her a burning indignation. She came forward and faced him in the gloom.
"Why should you take that trouble?" she said.
She saw his eyes glitter in the darkness, and knew that they were upon her with a lynx-like intensity. "I reckon I have the right," he said, in his slow way. "You've no objection, I presume?"
Her cheeks burned hotly in the darkness. She knew that he had her at a disadvantage. "I am fully capable of taking care of myself," she said, beginning to walk on down the dim avenue.
He fell into his easy stride beside her. "Is that why Lord Saltash left you to walk home alone?" he said.
She clenched her hands in the darkness. "What do you mean?"
"I think I am right in concluding that you have spent the afternoon with him," Jake said, in his measured tones.
Maud stood suddenly still. She was quivering from head to foot. "You are-quite right," she said, in a voice that she strove in vain to steady. "I think I have told you before, Lord Saltash and I are old friends."
"Yes, I am aware of that," Jake said.
He reached out a quiet hand and took her by the arm, leading her calmly forward.
She went with him because she could not do otherwise, but she would have given all she had at that moment to wrench herself free. There was no escape for her, however; she was forced to endure his touch, forced to go forward with him along a road that she could not see.
He led her in silence, calmly, unfalteringly, with the utmost confidence. She was sure that those lynx-eyes of his could see in the dark.
But his silence speedily became intolerable. It seemed to her to bristle with condemnation. It goaded her against her will into speech.
"Lord Saltash has given me his permission to use the piano at the Castle. I did not know when I went that he had returned."
"I could have told you that," commented Jake.
Again her resentment rose to a flame, burning fiercely. Yet his words held no insult. With all her strength she strove for calmness.
"I did not know of it. In any case, I do not see that it was a matter of very vital importance. An hour at the piano is a great treat to me, and I shall probably go again."
"For an hour?" said Jake.
This time the peculiar intonation of his voice was unmistakable, not to be ignored. She flung him instant defiance.
"For as long as I choose. My time is my own."
He was silent a moment, but she was conscious of the tightening of his hand. At length: "All right, my girl," he said. "But remember, my claim to it comes before Lord Saltash's. Some day it may happen that I shall put in my claim. I never have been content to be passed at the winning-post."
Her heart quivered at the deliberate purpose with which he spoke. She walked on, saying no word.
They were nearing the gates, and the glare from the two great lamps shone towards them, lighting the way. She braced herself, and made a resolute attempt to free her arm from his hold.
"Easy! Easy!" said Jake. "We haven't got there yet. It's dark beyond those lights."
She abandoned her effort, feeling that she had no choice. They walked on together silently.
They reached and passed through the gates. The road stretched before them steep and winding.
"We'll cut across the fields," said Jake.
He led her to a stile almost concealed in the hedge, and here his hold upon her relaxed. He vaulted the rail, and waited for her.
He did not offer to assist her though the step was high. She mounted in nervous haste to avoid his touch.
But for the darkness she would have found no difficulty in springing down, but as it was she misjudged the distance, slipped, and fell. She threw out her hands with a cry, and the next moment she was caught in Jake's arms. He held her fast, so fast that for a few palpitating seconds she felt the hard beating of his heart against her own. Then, in response to her desperate efforts for freedom, he let her go, without excuse, without apology, in a deep-breathing silence that somehow appalled her. They walked side by side along the field-path, saying no word.
There was a gate at the further end that led into the training-field below the little orchard. As they reached this, Jake paused very deliberately and spoke.
"I reckon I've got to prepare you for a visitor."
"A visitor!" She stopped in swift dread of she knew not what.
"A friend of mine," drawled Jake, with an odd touch of aggressiveness. "You're not precisely dead nuts on my friends as a rule, I know. But I guess this one may prove an exception. Dr. Capper turned up this afternoon. I left him having tea with Bunny."
"Dr. Capper!" Maud gasped the name, scarcely conscious of speaking at all.
"Dr. Capper from the States," said Jake, unmoved. "He chanced to be just leaving for this country when my letter reached him, so he thought he'd answer it in person and look us up first. He and Bunny are fast pals already. He's a regular magician, is Dr. Capper."
"But-but-you never expected him so soon!" faltered Maud. "Surely-he won't want to-to-examine Bunny yet."
"Not before to-morrow, maybe," said Jake. "We can't expect to keep him very long, you know. He's a busy man. I've heard that people in this country simply tumble over each other to consult him. He could make a score of fortunes over here if he would. But he won't. He'll only take up the cases he fancies, won't waste himself over easy things. That's why we're so almighty lucky to get him."
His easy, unhurried speech gave her time to collect herself. She forced her first, involuntary dismay into the background, facing the sudden exigency of the situation with all the strength at her disposal.
"Jake," she said, "this thing has come very suddenly, but curiously enough Lord Saltash was speaking about it only this afternoon. If-if there is to be anything of the nature of an operation, he has offered to place any part of the Castle at our disposal. It is a very generous offer, and it-it would be an excellent thing for Bunny."
"Then you have decided to accept it?" said Jake.
His tone was perfectly quiet and matter-of-fact, but it amazed her. She had expected a determined opposition. Disconcerted, she paused before replying.
"I don't think it is especially generous," Jake said, and again it seemed to her that he was talking to give her time. "But it might be a good thing for Bunny. If you like, I will go up to-night and see Saltash about it."
He opened the gate for her with the words, and she passed through with feelings too mixed to bear any analysis.
"Am I to go?" he asked, as he dropped back into his sturdy stride beside her.
"Please," she said, in a low voice.
His attitude was a complete puzzle to her. It seemed so utterly at variance with the absurdly jealous line he had taken but a few minutes before. But she could not ask for an explanation. The relief of finding him prepared to act in unison with her on this point was too great. She did not understand either his motives or his actions, but she was thankful to find that there was to be no battle of wills between them. After all, his motives were not of paramount importance.
As they walked through the last field, she tried to banish her embarrassment and recover her normal composure of mien. But strive as she would, she could not wholly reassure herself. Nor could she forget the fast holding of his arms and the strong, deep throbbing of his heart against her own. That moment had been a revelation to her upon which she dared not dwell.
They reached the dark orchard, and passed up the dim path to the house. Jake went straight up the steps to the French windows of the parlour from which a cheery welcoming light shone forth. He raised a hand to the catch.
"Wouldn't it be better to go round?" Maud said.
She was suddenly trembling all over in an agitation that seemed to possess her, body and soul.
Jake did not pause. Steadily he raised the latch. "Come right in!" he said.
The door opened, the light poured out upon them?
There came to her the sound of Bunny's cracked, difficult laugh. She entered in front of Jake, dazzled, hesitating, uncertain.
Instantly a man's voice greeted her, a quiet, casual voice with an unmistakable New York accent. "Ah, I guess this is the lady of the house. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, madam. Mr. Bolton will have told you who I am."
Tall and gaunt and meagre, he bent over the hand she offered him, holding it in a strong, sustaining clasp.
She looked at him rather piteously, aware of green eyes darting over her with lizard-like swiftness, eyes that shone intensely in a face that was the colour of old ivory. She also saw a yellow pointed beard that for a moment prejudiced her and the next was forgotten.
"It was so kind of you to come," she said, with a quivering smile.
He smiled in answer, a sudden, transforming smile that warmed her heart. "I guess I followed my own inclination," he said. "Say, now, you're cold. Bunny and I have been keeping up a good fire for you. Sit down and make your husband do the waiting!"
His manner was so kind and withal so courteous that Maud's embarrassment passed like a cloud. She came to the fire, pulling off her gloves and stretching her fingers to the blaze.
Bunny accosted her with eager eyes. "Maud, he's going to overhaul me and see if he can do anything for me. Maud, can't he do it to-night? I won't sleep a wink if he doesn't."
Her heart sank inexplicably. She seemed to have stepped into a new atmosphere that seethed with possibilities that somehow frightened her. She was as one in the grip of a force indomitable that hurled her headlong towards a goal she dreaded.
She leaned upon the mantelpiece, looking towards Capper with more of appeal than she knew. "You are much too kind," she said.
He pushed up a chair for her. "Say, now, there's no need to hustle any," he said. "I suspect there is no harm in my looking at the lad; but we don't take any further action at present. I've a lot to get through in this old country, and I'd just like to know right now if this is a case for me or not."
He patted the back of the chair with fatherly insistence, and she sank into it with a feeling of utter weariness and impotence. It seemed futile to battle any longer against the torrent that bore her. She was as a straw in the whirlpool of Fate.
"It is so good of you even to think of helping us," she said rather unsteadily. "Please make your examination whenever it suits you best! But Bunny is not a good sleeper. You will remember that, won't you?"
Capper took up the cup of tea that Jake had prepared, and handed it to her. "Let me have the pleasure of seeing you drink this!" he said. "I should like to make my examination to-night, if you have no objection. In fact, I have come down for the purpose. My time, madam, is more limited than anyone on this side could ever be made to realize. I won't hustle you, but if I didn't hustle myself I guess I'd have to account some day for a waste of good material."
He sat down in a chair facing her with the words, and fell to cracking his finger-joints one after the other with absent energy. It was a way he had, as Maud was soon to discover.
"You have had tea?" she asked.
He nodded. "I am ready to get to work. I shan't want an audience. If I want anything I'll let you know. But I've a very decided notion that my patient and I will get on best alone."
Jake raised his eyes suddenly. "That so, doctor?" he drawled. "Then I guess I'll carry the youngster up right now."
Capper looked at him with a smile, and pulled his beard speculatively. Bunny beamed approval.
Maud drank her tea in utter silence, feeling as if it would choke her.
The silence became prolonged, but she did not realize that anything was expected of her till Capper leaned slightly towards her, and spoke.
"Have I your permission, madam?" he asked courteously.
She met his keen eyes and was struck afresh by the kindly reassurance they held. "Of course," she said, in a low voice. "I-am very grateful to you."
"I hope-some day-you may have cause to be," he rejoined.
Jake went to Bunny's side. She saw the boy raise his arms as he bent, and clasp his neck. A few muttered confidences passed between them; then Jake's strong arms lifted the frail, impotent body as they alone knew how to lift. And in that moment it seemed to Maud that the beloved burden had been taken finally from her, and she was left to wander alone in a desert that was very dark and bare.
CHAPTER XXXI
LIGHT RELIEF
"May I come in?" said Capper.
Maud started. She had been sitting huddled over the fire for what seemed like countless ages, listening with straining nerves to every sound overhead and sometimes shrinking and trembling at what she heard. Jake had gone out long since to the stables, and she had been thankful to see him go. His very presence was intolerable to her just then.
At the sound of Capper's voice she turned an ashen face. "Say, now," he said, in a tone of kindly chiding, "you've been scaring yourself, Mrs. Bolton; and if that's not the silliest game under the sun, you may call me a nigger."
She rose to receive him, trying to force her quivering lips to practical speech. But she could only articulate, "I heard him cry out several times. Does he want me?"