And so it was left, and for the following sad days Forrester kept his word and Faith was left in peace. There was nothing seriously the matter with her, the doctor said, but she was suffering from shock and nervous prostration, and must be kept quiet.
Peg and Forrester got to be almost friendly during that week. There was so much to see to, so much to arrange.
Forrester had given notice to the two school teachers who had lodged with Mrs. Ledley, and had told the landlord that he was giving up the house. Then he went to Shawyer and askedhow a man set about finding a school for two little girls.
"A boarding school?" Mr. Shawyer asked, and the Beggar Man said "Yes, and a top-hole one too! I don't mind the expense, but it's got to be a first-class place, and with a woman at its head who'll be kind to a couple of poor little motherless kids."
Mr. Shawyer brought his wife along. She had no children of her own, but she adored children, and had endless understanding and sympathy for them.
She was only too eager to hunt for a school for the twins. She was like a delighted child with a new doll, or, rather, two new dolls, when one afternoon she was introduced to the twins—rather sad-faced little mites now, in their black and white frocks.
"She's the right one, thank heaven," the Beggar Man thought, as he saw the way in which she took them both to her heart, and he heaved a deep sigh of relief, for he had been greatly worried with so much responsibility all at once.
But Mrs. Shawyer took it from him willingly;she shopped for the twins, and found them a school in the country within driving distance of her own home.
"I'll look after them, don't you worry, Mr. Forrester," she told him. "They'll be as happy as the day is long."
She wanted to carry them off then and there, but Forrester knew he could not take them without first telling Faith, and that was a duty which he dreaded.
He consulted Peg about it. What ought he to do? Was Faith well enough to see him yet? Peg looked away guiltily.
"She's been well enough for some time," she said honestly. "But every time I mention it to her she seems to shrivel up, so you'd best go in of your own accord, and I'll know nothing about it."
There was a little smile in her eyes as she watched him turn towards Faith's room. He was so big and burly and strong-looking, but she was not one whit deceived, and she knew that he was as nervous as a girl as he knocked at his wife's door.
Faith said "Come in" in a small, tired voice,and the Beggar Man turned the handle and walked in.
He had not seen her for a week, and his first emotion was one of unutterable thankfulness that she did not look as ill and frail as he had dreaded. She was sitting by the window, and the room was full of flowers, which Peg had bought with his money, and Faith wore a black frock, bought with his money also!
She started up when she saw him, the colour rushing to her face. She looked past him furtively to the door, but evidently realized how hopeless were her chances of escape, for she sat down again resignedly, though her soft, childish face took a curiously hard expression.
"I am glad you are better," said the Beggar Man. He was very nervous; he stood against the door, the width of the room between them, his hands deep-thrust into his pockets so that he should not yield to his impulse to go across to her and take her into his arms. A deep pity for her surged into his heart. She was his wife, but she was only a child, and they were almost strangers.
"Peg has been very good to you—to all ofus," he said, hoping to soften her. "I like your friend Peg," he added kindly.
Faith did not move or answer.
"I wanted to speak to you about the future," he went on desperately.
She raised her eyes then; such frightened eyes they were.
"My future has nothing to do with you," she said. "I can go my own way—I don't want any help."
He moved away from the door, dragged a chair up and sat down beside her.
"You're talking nonsense, and you know you are," he said very quietly. "You are my wife, and the law is on my side. I don't want to be harsh or unjust, but I can force you to come away with me this moment if I choose—not that I intend to," he added, meeting her terrified eyes, "because you are going to be a sensible little girl, and we are going to be very happy together. I want to do all I can for you. I want to give you everything in my power. I have found a school for the twins—a school where they will be well looked after and cared for, and ... Faith!"
She had started to her feet. She was shaking in every limb, her face white.
"You dare to try and take them away," she panted, fear of him swallowed up in her greater fear of losing the twins. "They belong to me! They are mine! They're all I've got in the world. I'll never let them go, never, never!" She broke down into violent sobbing. "Peg promised me she would help me keep them away from you. I suppose she's broken her word," she panted.
"Peg is a sensible woman," said Forrester shortly. With all his pity and affection for her, he was losing patience fast. He believed firmness was the best method of managing her, after all. He rose to his feet.
"I don't want to upset you, Faith, but we have had enough nonsense. The twins are going to school next week, and you are leaving this house and coming to live with me. I have arranged everything."
She wrung her hands.
"I will never live with you. I hate you. Mother hated you! You killed my father—you ruined his life."
She was only repeating parrot-like what she had always been told of the "bad man"; of the true facts of the story she knew nothing.
The Beggar Man turned very pale.
"I have heard something of this from your friend Peg," he said grimly. "Possibly itistrue that through some business transaction I got the better of your father. But anyway it must have been years ago, and I never knew him personally. If they say all is fair in love and war, it's fair in business, too. He would have got the better of me if he had been able to do so, no doubt. Anyway, I mean to thrash the matter to the bottom, and let you know the exact truth, even if it goes against me to tell you. I may not be proud of everything that has happened in my life, but I'm not going to lie about it anyway.... Faith, stop crying!" His voice was harsh now, and Faith's tears dried as if by magic.
She looked so forlorn, so very young, and a sudden revulsion of feeling swept through the man's heart. He was already bitterly disappointed with his marriage. He had had such wonderful schemes for moulding his wife tohis own ideas, and now he knew that he had been a fool to ever hope anything from such a gamble! But he was a fighter, and he had no intention of acknowledging defeat. He held out his hand to her.
"Come, Faith, be friends with me! You used to like me, you know," he added, with a faint smile. "And it's less than a month ago. A short time, surely."
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, and her pretty voice sounded like steel when she spoke.
"I didn't know then that you were Ralph Scammel!—I didn't know then—that you killed my father."
It was a piteous exaggeration of the truth, and Forrester flushed to the roots of his hair, but he kept his temper admirably. He even managed a laugh as he turned to the door.
"Well, I'm not arguing with you now about it," he said hardily. "I'll say good-night."
When he had gone, Peg came in to Faith, and the younger girl broke down once more into pitiable weeping.
"He says he is sending the twins away; he says that I must go and live with him. Youwouldn't, would you, Peg? You hate him, don't you?"
Peg did not answer. She stood looking out of the window with moody eyes, and then she said abruptly:
"I hate Scammel as Scammel, but—there's something about Nicholas Forrester, as Nicholas Forrester——" she paused. "Faith, do you know what I think?"
Faith shook her head. She was always tremendously influenced by Peg; she waited with breathless eagerness now for her words.
Peg fell into her favourite pose; hands on hips, head a little awry. "Well, I think that unless you're a little fool you'll do as he tells you," she said.
Faith stared at her friend with incredulous eyes. She had counted on her to the uttermost; she could not believe that at the eleventh hour Peg would fail her like this.
"Do as he tells me!" she gasped, helplessly. "After all you have said! Oh, what has happened to change you so! I thought you were my friend."
"You know I am," Peg said calmly."Perhaps never more than I am now when I tell you to go back to him. What's the good of holding out? He's stronger than you, and the law's on his side."
The last was a phrase culled from one of her favourite novelettes, and she thought it applied admirably. If the truth must be told she was thoroughly enjoying herself. She considered this story of Faith's as good as anything that had been written and printed and sold by the thousand. Forrester was a very good type of hero, and Faith quite the timid, shrinking heroine beloved of the novelist. As yet she had not quite assigned a part to herself, but Peg had her head screwed on the right way, and she had no intention of breaking her friendship with Faith no matter what happened, or of letting her drift out of her life.
She went on in her clear, emphatic way.
"He's rich! He'll give you everything you want! He's fond of you, and the twins love him! What more do you want? Let the past be wiped out; that's what I say."
She went over to Faith and patted her shrinking shoulder.
"Cheer up, little 'un," she said, resorting to her usual slangy manner of speech, which she had dropped somewhat since she had seen so much of the Beggar Man. "It's a long lane that has no turning, you know. And it's lucky for you all that you've got a husband. If you think you could earn enough to keep yourself and those twins, bless 'em, you're mistaken. Why, they'd eat your week's wages in a couple of days and think nothing of it."
"I thought you were my friend," said Faith again helplessly. "And here you are driving me back to him. I should never have married him if I'd known what I know now. I'd rather have starved...."
"You've never tried starving," was Peg's unsympathetic response. "And you're talking silly. He's all right, as far as you know him, anyway, and what he does in business is neither here nor there, as you might say."
She considered Faith with meditative eyes; then suddenly she broke out: "Here! Will you go and live with him if he lets me come, too?"
Faith looked up with a faintly dawning hope, which faded quickly.
"He'd never let you," she said. "He wouldn't even have the twins."
"He was quite right there," Peg declared. "They'd be a nuisance. But I'm different. I could see to things for you and lend a hand in the house, too, if you like. I've a great mind to ask him—what do you say?"
"It wouldn't be so bad if you came."
"We could have a fine time," said Peg, her eyes glowing. Already she saw Forrester handing out money for her wardrobe as well as for his wife's. Already she saw herself driving in his car and turning into a lady. She was sure she could live up to the part; she had brains, even if her education had been poor; but she had not got that inherent something which had come to Faith from her father and which made all the difference between the two girls.
"Well," she insisted, "shall I ask him?"
"If you like; but he won't let you, I know."
Peg did not believe that; she believed that Forrester would be glad to have his wife on any terms. When next she saw him she approached the subject with easy confidence.
The Beggar Man listened to her quietly and courteously, and when she had finished he smiled a little—a smile that somehow made her uncomfortable.
"It's a kind suggestion," he said, "but not possible. We shall have to live in my flat for the present, Miss Fraser"—he was always most punctilious about addressing Peg as Miss Fraser—"and I am afraid there would not be room for you." He hesitated. It was in his mind to say that in the future the friendship between the two girls would have to cease, but in the face of all that Peg had done for him he could not utter the words.
"I hope Faith will see you often," he added helplessly, man-like, saying the very opposite to the thing he wished to say.
"Oh, I dare say she will," Peg said laconically. She was not in the least offended by his refusal. If this scheme failed, she had others to fall back upon. "I'm fond of Faith, you know," she added.
"I know," said the Beggar Man. "And you have been most kind. I shall never be able to thank you for what you have done for us both."
Peg said, "Oh, chuck it!" but she looked pleased.
She went back to Faith and told her that she had failed.
"Never mind, honey," she said, when she saw the girl's disappointment. "If at first you don't succeed, you know, try, try, try again, as they used to tell us in the copybooks; and I'm not done yet. You'll have to go off with him alone, and I'll come along later."
"I shall never go," said Faith.
It was curious how determinedly she stuck to that. Even Peg marvelled at her unexpected display of will-power. She did not understand how deeply ingrained in the girl's soul the failure and death of her father had been, or how the loss of her mother had reawakened and added to its power.
"You'll have to let the twins go, anyway," Peg said bluntly. "Why, it would be a crime to try and keep them, bless their hearts! After all the new frocks he's bought them, you ought to see!"
"I don't want to see them," said Faithpassionately, the tears rushing to her eyes. "Nobody will ever love them as I do."
But she knew she was powerless to keep the twins with her. Mr. Shawyer came and talked to her about it. He pointed out kindly but firmly that her husband was their natural guardian now, as she herself was under age.
"He is doing and will do everything in his power for their happiness," he said. "He has been most kind and generous. It's all for the good of the little girls, too, and they are quite happy to go. Don't you think it's rather selfish of you to try and stand in their way?"
She gave in at last, but it almost broke her heart. She had got it into her head that if her mother could know, she would be angry with her for parting with them; all the more angry because it was Forrester who was paying for it all. Her mother had hated him, and Faith believed that therefore it was her duty to hate him also.
She broke down when it came to saying good-bye. There was a cab at the door, piled with the twins' new luggage, and Mrs. Shawyer was waiting to take them to school.
Up to the last moment they had been wildly excited and full of delight, but the sight of Faith's pale face and tears was a signal for them to give way also.
They clung to her sobbing and crying. They did not want to go, they yelled; they even kicked at Forrester when he picked them up one under each arm and carried them down to the waiting taxi.
He was annoyed with Faith for being the cause of such a scene. He went back to her when they had driven off, frowning heavily.
Faith was sobbing and looking out of the window in the direction in which the twins had disappeared—carried off by main force, so it seemed to her. She turned round and looked at her husband with flaming eyes.
"I'll never forgive you for this," she said. "It will break their hearts, poor darlings!"
"Nonsense!" he answered calmly. "Before they get into the next street they'll be perfectly happy. Mrs. Shawyer has a box of chocolates for them, and I never knew chocolates fail to dry their tears yet."
He smoothed his hair, which had got ratherruffled by the twins' struggles to escape him.
"Thank goodness that's over," he said with a short laugh. "Now I can look after you; I've arranged that we shall go to the flat this evening and dine there. There will be no need to come back to this house again."
The tone of his voice added, "Thank God," and Faith flushed sensitively.
"This house is good enough for me," she said quickly. "And I am not going to your flat."
He laughed.
"Silly child. I thought you liked it so much."
"I thought I did—then. I've changed my mind." She tried to pass him. "Please let me go; I want to speak to Peg."
The Beggar Man stood immovable.
"Peg is not in the house," he said quietly. "She is not coming back any more."
The colour drained from the girl's face; even her lips looked white, and the Beggar Man went on hurriedly and rather pathetically:
"It makes me terribly unhappy to see you likethis. I had hoped such great things ... I was a fool, I suppose. Faith, have you forgotten those first days when we knew each other? You were happy enough then...."
She turned her face away obstinately.
"I did not know who you were then."
The Beggar Man shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, we won't argue about it. How soon can you be ready? Miss Fraser has packed all the things it will be necessary for you to take. I will send for a taxi if you will put on your hat and coat."
"I am not going; I am going to stay here."
He walked out of the room without a word, returning almost at once with her hat and coat. He laid them down beside her on the table.
"Put them on," he said quietly.
She looked up with scared eyes.
"No."
"Put them on," said the Beggar Man once again.
"No." Only a whisper this time.
He stooped and raised her to her feet. He held her arms firmly, so that it was impossible for her to escape him.
"I've tried all ways with you," he said, and his voice sounded a little laboured and difficult. "At least, I hope I have. I've made every allowance for you and tried to be patient. That was my mistake; I should have shown you first of all that I was your master. Faith—look at me!"
She had been standing with her head down-drooping, and he could feel how she trembled, but he did not soften.
"Look at me," he said again, and she looked up.
Her brown eyes met his—kind no longer, only stern and determined—and for a moment neither spoke. But in that silence something seemed to tell Faith how useless was her resistance, how truly he had spoken when he said that he was her master.
Then he let her go and stood back a pace.
"Now are you coming with me?" he asked.
She put on her hat and coat without a word, and she heard him go out into the hall and into the street and send a boy for a taxi.
When he came back she was standingapathetically by the table, looking round the room which she was never to see again.
She hated him because he was tearing her away from the only home she knew—hated him because her mother had hated him; the knowledge had quite killed the first immature affection she had felt for him, quite wiped out all the romance.
The Beggar Man stood for a moment in the doorway, looking at her, and there was a great longing in his heart to try and comfort her, to try and drive that look of desolation from her childish face, but he knew it was no moment for wavering.
"Are you ready?" he asked, and his pity made his voice harsh.
"Yes."
She followed him out of the house without another word or backward glance, but her heart felt as if it were breaking. She kept telling herself that this was her punishment for having deceived her mother. She wished she could fall down dead, as her mother had done.
Forrester only spoke to her once during the drive to his rooms, and that was when he leanedforward and forced her wedding ring back to her third finger.
"Don't you ever dare to take it off again," he said.
There was a little smile in his eyes as he spoke, but she only heard the masterfulness of his voice, and she shrank back as if he had struck her.
Dinner was waiting for them at the flat, as he had said, and there was a maid in attendance who looked with kindly interest at Faith as she took her to her room.
"May I take off your boots for you?" she asked, as Faith stood helplessly by the dressing-table. "You must be tired. I will bring some hot water, and when you have had dinner you will feel better."
Forrester had felt bound to tell her something of the circumstances of his unusual marriage, and she was deeply interested. She felt sorry for Faith, too. Possibly she could afford to be, seeing the generous salary which Forrester had offered her if she would stay with his wife and do everything in her power to help her and make her happy.
Faith looked at her with troubled eyes.
"Must I go down to dinner?"
The girl smiled kindly.
"I think you had better. Mr. Forrester will be disappointed if you do not."
"I don't care," said Faith.
But she went all the same, and managed to eat something.
The Beggar Man made her drink some wine, which brought a faint colour to her white cheeks.
She no longer looked round the room with interest or admiration; she felt like a creature at bay, captured against her will by this man.
When dinner was ended and cleared away Forrester drew up an armchair for her. "Sit down; I want to talk to you," he said.
"Well?"
But she stood where she was, with the chair between them.
He had meant to be kind and affectionate, but the antagonism in that one monosyllable dispersed all his good resolutions. He was sick of scenes, tired of being held at arms' length; reluctantly he had grown to see that this marriagehad been the greatest mistake of his life, that he had been a fool to imagine he could mould this girl to his own wishes and desires, child as she seemed. There was a strong will in the slim, soft body which defied him.
With a swift movement he caught her in his arms. She gave a quick, frightened breath, but before she could speak he had kissed her lips—kissed the eyes that closed in terror before his, and the soft face that turned from him with such desperation.
She was a child in his arms, but though she could not escape from him, her lips felt like steel beneath his. He might break her body, but he could never bend her will. Through every nerve in his body he could feel that she hated and feared him, and at last with sullen anger and bitterness he let her go, so violently that she staggered and almost fell, catching at the table to save herself.
He waited, pale to the lips and breathless, for the storm of sobbing which he thought would come, but though she put up her shaking hands to hide her face and the crimson patches left by the roughness of his kisses, she did not sheda tear. She only said over and over again in a broken-hearted little whisper, "Oh, mother—mother ... mother...."
"Faith!" The Beggar Man took a quick step towards her. "Faith! Oh, for God's sake...." But he did not touch her, and for a long moment there was silence. Then she looked up at him, haggard-eyed and piteous.
"Oh, please—please go away."
"Faith——" But she only shook her head, and he turned and went out of the room, shutting the door behind him....
There followed a terrible week of scenes and tears and defiance and pleading; Forrester suffered every emotion by turn at her hands. He tried indifference, firmness, kindness,—they all failed him, and the only way left to him—brute force—he would not try.
And then one evening as Peg was walking home from the factory, deeply engrossed in the last chapter of a new novelette, someone spoke her name.
"Miss Fraser!" She looked up, startled, dragging herself from the ardent words of theHonourable Fitzmaurice Arlington, to find the Beggar Man beside her.
"You!" she said blankly. Then with quick suspicion, "Is Faith ill?"
"Yes—no! At least ... Oh, God only knows." He laughed mirthlessly. "I've come to ask if your offer is still open," he went on bitterly. "I mean—will you come and stay with us in my flat? Live with us if you like. Anything, if you'll only come. Will you?"
Peg stuffed the novelette into a pocket; the story of the Honourable Fitzmaurice Arlington suddenly paled beside this real-life romance.
A beatific smile overspread her handsome face.
"Will I come?" she echoed. "Well, I should say so!"
By bringing Peg Fraser to the flat the Beggar Man acknowledged his defeat.
If he had not been so sure of Faith's hatred he might have tried harder to overcome her prejudices, but he felt that hatred was an active force through which success was impossible.
He said as much to Mr. Shawyer.
"I've been a fool, I know! I suppose the whole thing was bound to be a failure from the start, but she seemed to like me...." He shrugged his shoulders. "What's the best thing to do?" he asked.
Mr. Shawyer hesitated. He was disappointed over this marriage himself. He admired Forrester intensely, and had looked to him to carry through successfully a thing which he was sure must have failed dismally in the hands of a weaker man.
"She'll change her mind," he said after a moment. "Women always do if you give themtime. Her mother's death was a great shock to her, of course."
"I've made every allowance for that."
"Then taking her sisters away so soon...." said Mr. Shawyer tentatively.
Forrester made an angry gesture.
"I did it for the best. She knows that, and it will prove for the best. How in God's name was she going to look after them and provide for them?"
"I know all that, but perhaps if you had left them with her for a little longer...."
Forrester frowned.
"The longer they had been together the harder the parting would have seemed. However, it's done, and I'm not going to undo it. Have you found out anything yet about this story of her father?"
Mr. Shawyer looked away from his client's anxious eyes as he answered.
"I have. Unfortunately, it's true! You remember that deal, five years ago it was, when a syndicate was formed to knock out the smaller manufacturers who would not sell to Heeler's?"
"Yes."
"Your wife's father was one of the small men who held out against you and was ruined."
Forrester laughed mirthlessly.
"It's the devil's luck; but how was I to know? Women are all unreasonable."
Mr. Shawyer did not answer, and Forrester went on:
"My wife has that Miss Fraser with her now, and mighty uncomfortable it is, too. She's as good as gold, but a rough diamond, and I wanted to get Faith away from the class she's been forced to mix with for the past five years. It looks as if she's going to beat me in that, too," he added, grimly.
"And are you all living at the flat?"
"Yes, for the present. I've taken a house at Hampstead, and we shall move there as soon as it's ready—in a week or two, I hope." He paced the length of the office and back again. "If it didn't look so much like running away, I'd make a settlement on my wife and clear off abroad," he said, shortly.
"I shouldn't do that," said Mr. Shawyer. "She's young. Give her another chance; be patient for a little while."
"Patience was never a virtue of mine," said the Beggar Man, grimly. "And, dash it all! What sort of a life is it for me, do you think? I'm not married at all, except that I'm paying; not that I mind the money."
"Well, wait a little longer," the elder man urged again. "It's early days yet, and you never know what will happen."
"I know what won't happen, though," said Forrester grimly.
He went back to the flat disconsolately. He heard Peg laughing as he let himself in, and the silence that fell as soon as his steps sounded in the passage.
The two girls were together in the sitting-room with which Faith had been so delighted when she first visited it, but it was Peg who greeted him as he entered.
She had made herself quite at home, and, in spite of a certain bluntness and vulgarity of which she would never rid herself as long as she lived, she seemed to have improved.
She was dressed more quietly and her hair was neater, but she still wore the gipsy earrings which Forrester hated so much.
She had been living in the flat a fortnight then—a year it seemed to Forrester. And he wondered, as he looked at his wife, why it was that, with each day, the gulf between them seemed to widen.
He smiled rather pathetically as her eyes met his.
"I've been thinking," he said. "What about a run down to see the twins? I'll take you in the car."
Twenty times a day he made up his mind that he would start all over again to win Faith back to him, but though she was friendly up to a certain point, he could never get beyond that point, or even back to the footing which had promised so happily for the future during the first days of their acquaintance.
Her face brightened wonderfully now at the suggestion and she clasped her hands eagerly.
"Oh, will you? How lovely!"
"We'll go directly after lunch," Forrester said, and looked at Peg. "Will you come, Miss Fraser?"
Peg shrugged her shoulders.
"You don't want me," she said. "Two'scompany, and three's a crowd. I've got a story to finish, too."
"Another novelette?" Forrester asked, cynically. Most of the rooms in the flat were littered with Peg's paper-backed library, and he hated the sight of them. He had made such different plans for his future. He had meant to introduce Faith to his own friends and gradually initiate her into their mode of living, but so far there had been no opportunity. Peg ruled the flat serenely, and, though she certainly never suggested bringing her own relations or acquaintances there, her mere presence prevented Forrester from doing as he wished.
"I'd much rather you came," Faith said quickly, but Peg only laughed.
"Then I'm not coming, so there's an end of it!"
She stuck to that, and early in the afternoon Faith and her husband drove away together. It was almost the first time they had been out without Peg since they came to live at the flat, and Forrester knew quite well that it was only the desire to see her sisters that had persuaded Faith to accompany him now.
He glanced down at her with a grim smile. She was looking better than he had seen her since her mother's death. There was a flush in her cheeks and her eyes were bright, but her thoughts were far away from him, it seemed, for she started when he spoke to her.
"I've found out about your father," he began curtly. It was not in his nature to be a tactician, and he knew that his blunt reference to the trouble between them hurt her; but he went on doggedly:
"It's true enough. He failed owing to a syndicate formed by me, but, as far as I can remember, I personally never heard his name or saw him." He waited, surprised at himself because he was hoping so desperately for a kind word or a little smile, but Faith only said "Yes," and kept her eyes steadily ahead.
"If you understood business," he went on, "you'd see that I am not to blame at all. Don't think I'm trying to shield myself, but I like fair play."
"Yes," said Faith again. Then she added, with a little nervous tremble in her voice, "I loved my father."
The Beggar Man laughed.
"And you don't love me, you mean! I'm quite aware of that."
She did not say any more, and they drove the rest of the way in silence.
The twins were playing in the school grounds when they reached the house, and Faith paced up and down the drawing-room in a fever of impatience while they were fetched. The head mistress was talking to Forrester. She was sure the children were quite happy, she said. They were certainly very good. "They were always good at home," Faith said, passionately, forgetting how many times a day they had quarrelled and slapped one another, and screamed and cried and nearly worried poor Mrs. Ledley to death. But time had lent a glamour of glory to most things now, and Faith could never think of her life at home without a dreary feeling of heart-sickness.
And then the twins came, and she caught her breath with a cry of wonderment, for she hardly recognized them in the healthy, well-dressed children who came demurely forward, hand in hand.
"Darlings—oh, darlings!" said Faith.
She went down on her knees and put her arms round them, kissing them rapturously.
"You haven't forgotten me? Of course, you haven't forgotten me?"
The twins returned her kisses warmly enough, and then held away a little to ask: "Have you brought us any chocolates?"
Faith's face fell. She had forgotten the chocolates! Oh, how could she have been so selfish?
"I've got some," said Forrester cheerfully, and the twins deserted their sister to fall upon him with rapture.
Afterwards they went round the garden and were introduced to the other children and shown the schoolroom. Then they all had tea together in the drawing-room and then ... Forrester looked at his watch.
"We ought to be getting back, Faith," he said.
Faith looked hurriedly at the twins. She was so sure they would cry and make a scene, and cling to her and beg to be taken away. If the truth must be told, she was hoping that theywould. But neither of them seemed to mind in the least.
"When will you come again?" was all they asked, and Faith, nearly choking with disappointment, answered that she would come soon, quite soon.
"And are you happy here, really happy?" she asked them each in turn when for a moment they were alone, and each twin answered like an echo of the other, "It's lovely!"
"They've forgotten me, you see," Faith said bitterly to Forrester as they drove away and a bend in the road hid the last glimpse of the two small figures at the gate. "They don't want me any more. Nobody wants me."
The Beggar Man's hand tightened on the steering-wheel.
"I'm not so small that there's any excuse for you to forget me so completely," he said dryly. "I'm here—waiting to be wanted."
Faith did not answer, but that night when she and Peg were brushing their hair together in Faith's room she repeated his words.
"As if I shall ever want him?" she said scornfully.
Peg dragged a tangle from her thick hair with a little vicious gesture.
"There's plenty worse," she said mechanically.
Faith tried hard to see her friend's face, but it was hidden by the mop of hair hanging about it.
"You've altered your opinion of him then," she said offendedly. "Sometimes I believe you really like him."
"He's been very decent to me, anyway," Peg answered brusquely. "And it's a pretty rotten game for him, paying out for us all the time, and not a ha'porth of thanks, or anything! How'd you like it?"
"I never thought you were a turn-coat," Faith said shortly.
She cried herself to sleep. Everyone was against her. The twins had forgotten her, and now Peg was condemning her ... life was a hateful thing.
Forrester came into the flat a day or two later and found Peg there alone. He was tired and depressed, and answered her cheery greeting shortly.
She knew that his eyes wandered round the room in search of his wife, though he asked no questions, and Peg said:
"Faith's gone out. She'll be in directly." She paused, then added: "I didn't go with her, because I wanted to speak to you—alone!"
The last word was given with dramatic effect, and Forrester smiled faintly.
"Well—what is it?"
Peg was standing over by the window, and she turned round with a swift movement as she said:
"Look here! Do you want me to go?"
"Go?" He was too surprised to do anything but echo her words.
"Yes." The colour deepened in her cheeks, but her eyes met his without flinching. "I know it's been unpleasant for you, all these weeks," she went on deliberately. "I know you'd much rather be alone with Faith, so if you'll say the word I'll go, and no complaints."
There was a little silence, then Forrester said slowly:
"I suppose it hasn't occurred to you that ifyou go, Miss Fraser, Faith will probably go too."
"Is that what she says?"
"Yes."
Peg laughed.
"Well, don't take any notice of her. She's a silly kid; she says lots of things she doesn't really mean." She came across the room and stood beside him. "Look here; it's partly me who's to blame for her being so unkind to you," she went on bluntly. "I told her you were Ralph Scammel. I told her that you were a selfish brute, and that you made us work as we did to get money for you." For the first time her eyes fell, as she added: "You needn't believe me, but I've often been sick about that—since!"
Forrester laughed.
"You need not be. It's more or less true. I am selfish, and I am Ralph Scammel, and I did work you and hundreds of other girls like you, to make money for me."
"You're not a bit selfish," Peg said almost violently. "Look how good you've been to us! Took us from nothing, as you might say——"
"Oh—please!" Forrester stopped her in embarrassment. "I shall think you're going to ask me a favour if you say such kind things," he protested, half in fun.
"Well, then, I'm not," Peg declared. "But I'm going to ask you a question, all the same."
"What is it?"
"If I wasn't here, would you have your own friends to the flat? Oh, you needn't make excuses! I know I'm not so good as Faith! I knew it the first time I ever saw her! I used to tell her that she'd got no right to be at Heeler's. I know she's got something in her that I can't ever have, because her father was a gentleman, I suppose, and mine wasn't. So if you say the word, I'll pack up right away and be off! I can't say fairer than that, can I?"
There was a little silence. Then suddenly Forrester held out his hand.
"You're a brick—a real brick!" he said. "And—and—I shall be grateful to you if you will stay, Miss Fraser."
Peg gripped his hand hard.
"Oh, I'll stay, if you mean it," she said. She spoke rather loudly in order to hide her realemotion, and turning quickly away began to talk hurriedly on some other subject. But later, when Forrester had gone from the room, she darted across to where he had thrown his coat down on a chair, and snatching it up, pressed her lips to it.
"If you cared for me, as you do for her," she said, in a fierce little whisper, and then bitterly: "Oh, she's a fool—a blind little fool!"
The house at Hampstead was ready at the end of August, and Peg moved to it from the flat with Forrester and his wife.
She and Faith were like a couple of children getting the house in order; Peg had not much taste, and she adored bright colours. She would have had a rainbow drawing-room if it had been left for her to decide, but Faith was determined to be mistress in her own house as far as its arrangement went, and on that subject she and her husband were for once agreed.
It was rather a charming house, with a long garden, shut in by a high wall, and the first night they were established there Faith found Peg leaning out of her bedroom window, which overlooked it, her elbows resting on the stone sill, and a look of gloomy despondency in her handsome eyes.
Faith slipped an arm round her.
"What's the matter, Peg?" she asked. Shewas very fond of Peg and quick to recognize her varying moods. Peg answered gruffly, without her usual cheeriness.
"I'm fed up! I don't belong here! What right have I got to be in a house like this, and sleeping in a room like this?"
She turned round sharply, her blue eyes taking in every detail of the expensively furnished room behind them.
She had chosen its wallpaper herself, which was too bright, and a mass of extraordinary looking birds. She had chosen the carpet, too, which was a curious mixture of greens and yellows, with a satin quilt on the bed to match.
The furniture was white enamel, and both the big chairs in the room had a brilliant cushion of peacock green.
"It looks—uncommon," so Faith had said slowly, when she was first introduced to the finished result, but neither she nor the Beggar Man really liked it, as Peg had been quick to perceive.
"At any rate, I've got to sleep in it, and nobody else," she said in defiance.
"And she ought to have nightmare everynight," so Forrester remarked afterwards rather grimly to his wife. "Good gracious, what taste! It shouts at one!"
Faith had defended Peg then, but she knew he was right, and she understood quite well now what Peg meant when she said she knew that she did not belong to the house.
"But it's all nonsense," she declared warmly. "I love you. I should hate the house without you."
Peg stooped and kissed her gratefully.
"You're a nice little kid," she said with a sigh. "But—it's true all the same what I say. I don't belong. If I wasn't here you'd be living quite a different life, you and Mr. Forrester. He'd be asking his friends to the house, and you'd be giving dinner-parties. But you don't because I'm here, and he's afraid I shall shock them."
"As if it matters what he's afraid of," Faith said sharply, but in her heart she knew that Peg was right; knew that, no matter how good and warm-hearted she might be, Peg grated on the Beggar Man forty times a day.
Over and over again Faith had seen him frownand turn away at one of Peg's slangy terms, just as she had seen him frown that day when she had told him that the facts of her marriage were like a novelette, and she had substituted "fairy story" instead.
Odd that then she had been so willing and anxious to please him, and that now she never considered him at all.
Peg seemed to guess something of her thoughts, for she caught her by the arm, twisting her round so that they were face to face.
"Look here," she said. "How long's it going on like this?"
The bright colour rushed to Faith's cheeks.
"What do you mean?"
"You know quite well what I mean," Peg said bluntly. "I mean how long is that husband of yours going to go on calmly paying out for you and me to live here, and have everything we want in the world, and get nothing in return? He's soft to do it, that's what I think. Either soft or an angel," she added. "And, after all, that's pretty much the same thing, isn't it?"
Faith laughed nervously.
"You do say such queer things," she objected.
"So I may do," Peg agreed, "but I'm not a fool, and neither is he; and as he's Ralph Scammel, and a good business man as well, he's not doing all this just to please us, and don't you forget it. There's some reason for it all."
"What do you mean?" But Faith spoke uneasily and looked away.
"I mean," said Peg bluntly, "that he's in love with one of us." She looked at Faith with sharp eyes. "A man never spends heaps of money on a woman for nothing. And as there's nothing to be got out of us, he's in love with one of us, and I don't flatter myself that it's me."
She waited, but Faith made no reply. She did not like Peg when she was in such serious moods, and lately Peg was often serious.
"Of course, I know you don't care two hoots about him," she went on. "Anyone with half an eye could see that! Not two hoots you don't care for him, but all the same I like to see fairplay, and it's up to you to make things more comfortable for him after all he's done for you and me."
"What can I do? He's never here. He's just like a stranger," Faith objected.
"Which is what you wanted him to be, isn't it?" Peg asked innocently. "You're not complaining about that, are you? No! Well, then, what about it?"
Faith laughed, not very convincingly.
"He's master in his own house," she said. "It's his money; he need not spend any money on me if he does not want to. I am quite willing to go back to the factory and work. I told him so. I'd go back to-morrow."
Peg grinned. "Would you?" she said. "I know you wouldn't, after living here all these weeks and having servants to wait on you and pretty frocks to wear and scrumptious food to eat. I'll bet you wouldn't, so own up and be honest."
Faith frowned.
"Well, what do you expect me to do?" she asked rather crossly. "I suppose this is all leading up to something, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. You've got to play fair. You've got to let him bring his friends here and entertain them for him like other men's wives do. Where do you suppose he goes every evening when he has dinner out, and in the daytime when he has his lunch out? Well, he's being entertained by his friends and their wives, of course."
Faith looked up quickly. It had never occurred to her to wonder where Forrester spent his time when he was not at home.
"Well, I suppose he likes it," she said defensively.
"Likes it!" There was a world of scorn in Peg's voice. She turned again to her moody contemplation of the garden.
"Do you know what I'd do if I was his wife?" she asked. "Well, I'd make it so jolly nice for him here at home that he'd never want to go out to his other friends and their wives. I'd let him see that I could entertain every bit as properly as they can. I'd...."
"You've changed, haven't you?" Faith said bitterly. "It's only two months ago that you were calling him every name you could think of,and telling me that I was a fool to have married him."
"I know I was," Peg admitted calmly, though she flushed. "And I think p'raps I was the fool, after all."
She turned again suddenly.
"Faith, why do you call him the 'Beggar Man'? You've done it once or twice lately."
"Have I?" Faith did not raise her eyes. "Well, he really gave himself the name," she explained reluctantly. "It was—was the first time I met him—he asked if I'd got any people, and I said yes—I told him about—about mother and the twins...." She caught her breath with a long sigh. What years and years ago now it all seemed! "And he said that—that I was richer than he, because I'd got people to love me, and that he'd got only money. He said that I was Queen ... Queen somebody or other, and he was the Beggar Man. It was a fairy story or something, I think—he said he'd tell me about it some day ... but he hasn't."
She looked past Peg to the silent garden. It hurt somehow to speak of that day so long ago now, and remember how different Forrester hadseemed then to what he did now. Did she seem different to him, too? she wondered.
"I've read the story," Peg said triumphantly. "It was King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid. He married her and made her his queen, and took her to share his golden throne with him, and all the courtiers came and knelt before her and kissed her hand." She was off again, lost in the realms of her romantic, novel-fed soul.
Faith gave a curt little laugh.
"Well, nobody has knelt before me and kissed my hand, if that's what you mean," she said.
Peg stared at her.
"I know somebody who'd like to kiss you—if you'd let him," she said shrewdly. "And——" She broke off as the maid knocked at the door.
"There's a gentleman for the master, please, ma'am—a Mr. Digby," she said to Faith. "He's come a long way to see him he says, and that if he might wait he'd be glad, as it's very important." She hesitated. She knew how shy Faith was, and how as a rule she avoided seeing anybody. "He asked if I thought you would see him," she added.
Peg gave Faith a nudge.
"See him? Of course you will," she said in a stage whisper.
Faith coloured. "I can't—I...."
Peg came forward.
"Well, shall I see him for you?" But Faith was not going to allow this. After all, she was Forrester's wife and mistress of the house.
"I'll see him myself," she said.
Peg smiled, well pleased, and presently Faith went slowly down the stairs, with a nervously beating heart, and pushed open the closed drawing-room door.
A man was standing by the window looking into the garden; he was a rather short, thick-set man, and he turned eagerly as Faith entered.
"Mrs. Forrester?" he asked. "Well, I am glad to meet you. I've known Nicholas all my life, or for a good part of it," he explained in a rather young and charming voice. "We were abroad together for some years, so, of course, he was the first person I looked up when I got over here." He wrung her hand in a bear-like grip. "So the old boy's married," he went on. "Well, I'm delighted, and though I know it's not the right thing to do, I'm going tocongratulate you instead of him, Mrs. Forrester. You've got one of the best."
Faith smiled nervously.
"You're very kind," she said. "He—he's out, but—but if you'll wait I'm sure he won't be long."
"I'm sure he won't, too," the man said laughing. "With a home like this to come to, and a wife...." His eyes rested admiringly on her face. "But Nicholas was always one of the lucky ones."
He was very friendly and unaffected, and Faith was surprised because she did not feel less at her ease, but she wished Peg would come down; Peg could always be relied upon to chip in and keep the ball of conversation going. She was wondering whether to fetch her when the door opened and Forrester himself walked in.
"Digby! Jove, I am glad to see you." The two men gripped hands and thumped one another on the back like delighted schoolboys. Faith had never seen her husband look so pleased before. She felt the slightest pang of envy and unwantedness as she stood there, forgotten for the moment,as they laughed and talked and questioned one another as to the happenings of the years since they had last met.
"And you'll stay with me, of course?" Forrester said. "I'd take it as a deadly insult if you went anywhere else. I——" He suddenly remembered Faith and turned to her. "My wife will be delighted to welcome you, I'm sure," he said rather formally.
"Mrs. Forrester has been most kind," Digby said. He slapped his friend on the back again heartily. "Lucky dog! All the good things of life fall your way."
The Beggar Man laughed.
"That is a compliment for you, Faith," he said.
Afterwards when for a moment they were alone he questioned her rather anxiously.
"You don't mind him staying here? He's my best friend, and we haven't met for years! He won't be any trouble. He's a fine chap!"
"Of course I don't mind." She avoided his eyes. "Peg was giving me a lecture only this evening about you! She said I did nothing foryou in return for all you've done for us. She said that I ought to entertain your friends." She laughed rather sadly. "You know I can't do anything like that properly, don't you?"
A little gleam crept into his eyes.
"You could do all that I want in that way," he said. "But it's not Peg's place to lecture you," he added hardily.
Faith rushed to Peg's defence.
"She meant it so awfully well. She's always sticking up for you. She says that she likes fair play...." She paused. "So do I," she added with difficulty. "And—and I'm afraid I haven't played fair since—since—well, you know."
There was a little silence. The Beggar Man's eyes never left her face, and there was a queer, hungry look in their blueness.
"You're not—I suppose you're not trying to tell me that—that you don't hate me so much—after all, eh?" he asked with an effort.
She drew back a step in alarm.
"I am only trying to tell you that—that I know how much you've done for us all, andthat if there was anything—any little thing I could do to please you ..." She faltered and stopped.
There was an eloquent silence.
"Well—I should like you to kiss me," Forrester said bluntly. He paused. "Or is that too big a thing to ask?" for Faith had put out protesting hands, and he laughed.
"It's too much, eh? Oh, all right! Don't bother!" He passed her without another word and walked out of the room whistling.
They had quite a merry evening.
"Anyone would think Mr. Digby had known us all for years and years," Peg said afterwards to Faith as the girls went up to bed together. "I like him awfully, don't you?"
Faith nodded, "Yes." She did like him, but all the evening she had felt vaguely uncomfortable, conscious of his eyes upon her.
"I wonder how long he means to stay," she hazarded.
"The longer the better," Peg declared bluntly. "If he's here Mr. Forrester will have to be at home." And then, as if scared by somepossible admission in her words, she added, "It makes it so much more lively...."
Downstairs a little silence had followed the girls' departure, which Peter Digby broke with a half-sigh.
"Wish I was married," he said laconically. "I've been looking for a girl like your wife for the last ten years, Nick!"
Forrester laughed.
"There are plenty of girls in the world," he said.
"Yes, but not the right sort," Digby objected. "Where did you meet her?"
Forrester coloured slightly.
"Oh, it's a long story. I'll tell you some other time." And to change the subject he asked, "What do you think of Peg—Miss Fraser?"
Digby hesitated.
"Handsome girl," he said at last. "Very different to Mrs. Forrester. Bit of a rough diamond I should think, if you won't be offended with me for saying so."
The Beggar Man was lighting a cigarette. Heblew a big puff of smoke into the air before he answered with deep earnestness: "She's a rough diamond as you say, but I admire and respect her more than any woman I know. She's got a heart of gold."