CHAPTER XITHE DECLARATION OF WARFor three weeks after that Sunday visit to Jake's home, life went on as usual, and a certain measure of tranquillity returned to Maud.She found herself able to meet the man without any show of embarrassment, and, finding him absolutely normal in his behaviour towards her, she began to feel a greater confidence in his presence. He had promised that he would not force himself upon her, and it was evident that he had every intention of keeping his word. That he might by imperceptible degrees draw nearer to her, become more intimate, was a possibility that for a time troubled her; but he was so absolutely considerate in all his dealings with her that this fear of hers at length died away. If he were playing a waiting game he did it with a patience so consummate that his tactics were wholly hidden from her. He had to all appearances accepted her decision as final, and put the notion away as impracticable.Christmas was drawing near, and several visitors had already arrived. There was generally a short season at Christmas, during which the Anchor Hotel had its regular patrons. Its landlord was in an extremely variable state of mind, sometimes aggressive, sometimes jovial, frequently not wholly sober. Maud avoided all contact with him with rigorous persistence, her mother's protests notwithstanding."He can't be civil to me," she said, "and he shall not have the opportunity of being anything else."And no persuasion could move her from this attitude. Mrs. Sheppard was obliged reluctantly to abandon the attempt. She herself was seldom out of favour with her husband, whatever his condition, and that after all was what mattered most.But the state of affairs was such as was almost bound to lead to a climax sooner or later. Giles Sheppard's hectoring mood was not of the sort to be satisfied for long with passive avoidance. Every glimpse he had of the girl, who ate his bread but disdained to do so in his company or the company of his friends, inflamed him the more hotly against her. It needed but a pretext to set his wrath ablaze, and a pretext was not far to seek.One day about a week before Christmas he unexpectedly presented himself at the door of Bunny's room.The weather was damp and raw, and a cheerful fire burned there. Bunny was lying among pillows on the sofa. He had had a bad night, and his face, as he turned it to the intruder, was white and drawn."What on earth--" he began querulously.Sheppard entered with arrogance, leaving the door wide open behind him. "Look here!" he said harshly. "You've got to turn out of this. The room is wanted."Maud, who was dusting the room as was her daily custom, turned swiftly round with something of the movement of a tigress. Her face was pale also. She had slept even less than Bunny the previous night. Her blue eyes shone like two flames under her knitted brows."What do you mean?" she said.He looked at her with insult in his eyes. "I mean just that, my fine madam," he said. "This room is wanted. The boy will have to go with the rest of the lumber--at the top of the house."It was brutally spoken, but the brutality was aimed at her, not Bunny. Maud realized that fact, and curbed her resentment. She could endure--or so she fancied--his personal hostility with fortitude. But his announcement was sufficiently disquieting in itself."I understood that we were not to be disturbed at any time," she said, meeting his look with that icy pride of hers that was the only weapon at her command. "Surely some other arrangement can be made?"Sheppard growled out a strangled oath; she always made him feel at a disadvantage, this slip of a girl whom he could have picked up with one hand had he chosen."I tell you, this room is wanted," he reiterated stormily. "You'd better clear out at once.""Bunny can't possibly be moved to-day," Maud said quickly and decidedly. "He is in pain. Can't you see for yourself how impossible it is? I am quite sure no visitor who knew the facts of the case would wish to turn him out."Sheppard stamped a furious foot. He was getting up his fury; and suddenly she saw that he had been drinking. The knowledge came upon her in a flash of understanding, and with it a disgust so complete that it overwhelmed every other consideration.She pointed to the door. "Go!" she said, in tense, frozen accents. "Go at once! How dare you come in here in this state?"Before her withering disdain he drew back, as it were involuntarily. He even half turned to obey. Then, suddenly some devil prompted him, and he swung back again. With one gigantic stride he reached the sofa; and before either brother or sister knew what he intended to do he had roughly seized upon the boy's slight body and lifted it in his great arms.Bunny's agonized outcry at the action mingled with his sister's, but it ceased almost immediately. He collapsed in the giant grip like an empty sack, and Sheppard, now wrought to a blind fury that had no thought for consequences, carried him from the room and along the passage to the stairs, utterly unheeding the fact that he had fainted.Maud, nearly beside herself, went with him, striving to support the limp body where long experience had taught her support was needed. They went up the stairs so, flight after flight, Sheppard savage and stubborn, the girl in a dumb agony of anxiety, seeking only to relieve the dreadful strain that had bereft Bunny of his senses.They reached at length a room at the top of the house, a bare garret of a place with sloping ceiling and uncarpeted floor. There was a bed under the skylight, and on this the man deposited his burden.Then he turned and looked at Maud with eyes of cruel malevolence. "This is good enough for you and yours," he said.Over Bunny's body she flung her fruitless defiance. "You drunken brute!" she said. "You loathsome coward! You hateful, tipsy bully!"The words pierced him like the stabs of a dagger too swift to evade. He was sober enough to be cowed.From the door he looked back at her, where she stood at the bedside, upright, quivering, a dart-like creature full of menace despite her delicacy of form and fibre. Again he knew himself to be at a disadvantage. He had not drunk enough to be intrepid. Swearing and malignant, he withdrew like a savage beast. But as he went, the madness of hatred rose in a swirl to his brain. She had defied him, had she? Her bitter words rang again and again in his ears. She had proclaimed him a drunkard, a coward, a bully! And she thought he would put up with it. Did she? Did she? Thought she could insult him with impunity in his own house! Thought he would tamely endure her impertinences for all time! He ground his teeth as he went down to the bar. He would have a reckoning with her presently. Yes, there should be a reckoning. He had borne with her too long--too long! Now matters had come to a head. She would either have to humble herself or go.He had tried to be patient. He had hoped that Jake Bolton would soon relieve him of the unwelcome burden he had taken upon himself. Jake could tame her; he was quite sure of that. But Jake seemed to be making no headway. He had even begun to wonder lately if Jake meant business after all.In any case he was at the end of his patience; and when his wife came to him with tears to remonstrate on behalf of poor little Bunny he hardened himself against her and refused to discuss the subject.As for Maud, she spent the rest of the day in trying to make Bunny's new quarters habitable. She hoped with all her heart that Jake would come in the evening so that they could move him into the room she occupied, a floor lower, which had at least a fireplace. But for once Jake disappointed her, and so the whole day passed in severe pain for Bunny and vexation of spirit for her.Towards evening to her relief he began to doze. She watched beside him anxiously. He had been very plucky, displaying an odd protective attitude towards herself that had gone to her heart; but she knew that at times he had suffered intensely and the fact had been almost more than she could bear. She knew that it would be days before he would shake off the effects of the rough handling he had received, and she dreaded the future with a foreboding that made her feel physically sick.Now that Sheppard's animosity had developed into active hostility, she knew that the situation could not last much longer, but how to escape it remained a problem unsolved. Her uncle had made no reply to her letter. She could not write to him again. And there was no one else to whom she could appeal. Alone, she could have faced the world and somehow made a way for herself; but with Bunny-- She clenched her hands in impotent anguish. There was only one person in the world willing to lift the burden from her, only one person besides herself who really cared for Bunny. She suddenly began to tremble. That sense of approaching doom was upon her again. The current had caught her surely, surely, and was whirling her away.Bunny stirred--as though somehow caught in the net of her emotions--stirred and came out of uneasy slumber."I say, Maud!""What is it, darling? Are you uncomfortable?" There was a wealth of mother-love in her low voice as she bent above him.Bunny put out a cold, moist hand. "I say, Maud," he said again, "Jake's a good sort. You like Jake, don't you?""Yes, darling," she answered soothingly.He turned his head on the pillow; she could feel his fingers opening and closing in the restless way he had. "I like him too," he said. "I like him awfully. He's--the real thing. I wish----""What, Bunny?" There was constraint in her voice, and she knew it, but it was a subject upon which she could not bring herself to speak freely. She dreaded his answer more than she could have said.Possibly he divined the fact, for he heaved a sharp sigh and said, "Nothing," in a tone that told her that he was very far from satisfied.But she could not pursue the matter. Thankfully she let it drop.The evening wore away. There was only one candle in the room. By it she and Bunny ate the supper which Maud herself had fetched from the kitchen. No one had time to wait upon them. The boy was still trying to make the best of things, and she marvelled at his courage.When the meal was over he looked at her with a faint smile under his drawn brows. "Look here, Maud! There's that bed in the corner. Can't you make it comfortable and get a good night for once?"She looked at him in surprise. It was very unusual for Bunny to give a thought to her comfort."Yes, I want you to," he said. "Go and undress, and then bring your blankets up here! You can't sit up all night in a straight-backed chair, so you may as well be comfortable. Don't stare! Go and do it!"The bed in the corner was a thing of broken springs and crippled frame-work, but it had a mattress of straw albeit bedclothes were lacking. Bunny's suggestion seemed feasible, and since it was plain that he would not be content unless she followed it she yielded without demur. Her own room was only a flight of stairs away, and she had already fetched several things from it for his comfort. She hoped to get him down to it on the following day, if only Jake would come. It was neither warm nor spacious, but it was preferable to this fireless attic.She brought the blankets, and arranged the bed. "I don't think I'll undress, Bunny," she said."You are to," said Bunny. "Jake says no one can possibly rest properly without."She was inclined to resent this assertion of Jake's teaching, but again she yielded. Bunny was in a mood to work himself into a fever if his behests were not obeyed.She went down and undressed therefore, and presently slipped up to him again, hoping to find him asleep. But he was wide-eyed and restless."It's so beastly cold," he said. "I can't sleep. My feet are like stones. Where's the fur rug?"She looked round for it. "Oh, Bunny, I'm so sorry. I must have left it in your room downstairs. Never mind! Here's a blanket instead!"She was already pulling it off her bed when Bunny asserted himself once more."Maud, I won't have it! I will not have it! Do you hear? Put it back again! Why can't you go and fetch the fur rug?""My dear, I can't go down like this," she objected."Rot!" said Bunny. "Everyone's gone to bed by now. If you don't get it, they'll be turning the room out in the morning, and it'll get lost. Besides, you look all right."She was wearing no more than a light wrap over her night-dress; but, as Bunny said, it was probable that everyone had retired, for the hour was late. Only a few dim lights were left burning in the passages. There would be no one about, and it would not take two minutes to slip down and get the rug. She dropped the blanket he had refused, and went softly out.CHAPTER XIITHE RECKONINGThe whole house was in silence as noiselessly she stole down the stairs. It was close upon midnight, and she did not meet or hear anyone. The place might have been empty, so still was it.The long, long roar of the sea came to her as she groped her way down the winding, dark passage that led to the room from which Bunny had been so rudely ejected a few hours before. There was no light here, but she knew her way perfectly, and, finding the door, softly opened it and turned on the electric light.The room was just as she had left it, the sofa drawn up by the burnt-out fire. She had collected all Bunny's things earlier in the evening, but, since the rug had been forgotten, she thought it advisable to take the opportunity of ascertaining if anything else had been left behind. She found the rug, pushed the sofa back against the wall, and began a quiet search of all the drawers and other receptacles the room contained.She had almost finished her task, and was just closing the writing-table drawer when a sudden sound made her start. A creaking footstep came from the passage beyond the open door. She turned swiftly with a jerking heart to see her step-father, bloated and malignant, standing on the threshold.For a single instant he stood there looking at her, and a great throb of misgiving went through her at the savage triumph in his eyes. He had been drinking, drinking heavily she was sure; but he did not seem to be intoxicated, only horribly sure of himself, brutally free from any trammels of civilization. He closed the door with decision, and moved forward.In the same moment she moved also towards the sofa over which she had thrown the rug she had come to fetch. Her heart was beating hard and fast, but she would not address a single word to him, would not so much as seem to see him. Supremely disdainful, she prepared to gather up her property and go.But as she turned to the door she found him barring the way. He spoke, thickly yet not indistinctly."Not so fast, my fine madam! I've got to have a reckoning with you."She drew herself up to the utmost of her slim height, and gave him a single brief glance of disgust. "Be good enough to let me pass!" she said, in tones of clear command.But Sheppard did not move. He had been fortifying himself against any sudden strain such as this all day long."Not so fast!" he said again, with a gleam of teeth under his dark moustache. "You made a mistake this morning, young woman; a very big mistake. Don't make another to-night!"Maud froze to an icier contempt. The steady courage of her must have shamed any man in his sober senses."Stand aside instantly," she said, "or I shall ring the bell and rouse the house!"He laughed at that, a cruel, vindictive laugh. "Oh, you don't come over me that way! You mean to have your lesson, I see, and p'raps it's as well. It's been postponed too long already. There's a deal too much spirit about you, and too much lip too. You think I'll put up with anything, don't you? Think yourself much too high and mighty to associate with the likes of me? Think you can call me any darn' names you please, and I'll bear 'em like a lamb?"His voice rose. Obviously his temper was already beyond control. He was in fact lashing it on to fury. Maud knew the process well.It was enough for her, and she waited for no more. She stepped quietly to the bell.She was nearer to it than he, and she did not for a moment imagine that he would dare to molest her. But she had not realized the maddened condition to which he had wrought himself; and even when he suddenly and violently strode forward she did not draw back or dream that he would touch her.Only as his hand caught her outstretched arm did the knowledge that he was as utterly beyond control as a wild beast burst upon her. She uttered a desperate cry, and began a sharp, instinctive struggle to escape.It was a very brief struggle, so taken by surprise and utterly unprepared was she. One moment she was fighting wildly for freedom; the next he had her at his mercy."Oh, you may scream!" he gibed. "No one will hear you! Now--do you know what I am going to do to you?""Let me go!" she panted, crimson and breathless.He locked her two wrists together in one iron hand. His strength was utterly irresistible. She was as a pigmy in the grip of a giant."I'll let you go when I've done with you," he said, gloating openly over her quivering helplessness. "But first you will have your lesson. I'm going to give you the trouncing of your life!"With the words he suddenly wrenched her round and forced her, almost flung her, face downwards over the sofa-head."You've been spoiling for this for a long time," he said, "and--being your step-father--I'll see that you get it. Never had a good spanking before in all your life, I daresay? Well, well see how you like this one!"And therewith he pulled off one of his down-at-heel carpet slippers and proceeded to flog her with it, as if she had been a boy.What she went through during that awful chastisement Maud never forgot. She fought at first like a mad creature till she was suddenly aware of the light wrap she wore ripping in all directions, and from that moment she resisted no more, standing passive in an agony of apprehension while he wreaked upon her all the pent malice of the past few weeks.It was a brutal punishment, administered with the savage intention of breaking down the stark silence with which she sought to meet it. And even when he succeeded at last, even when the girl's strength went from her and she collapsed as he held her with a wild burst of hysterical crying and broken, unnerved entreaties, he did not stay his hand. Now was his grand opportunity for vengeance, and he might never get another. He did not spare her until he had inflicted the utmost of which he was capable.Then at last roughly he set her free. "That's right! Blub away!" he jeered. "I've taken all the stiffening out of you at last, and a damn' good job too. P'raps you'll keep a civil tongue in your head for the future, and give me no more of your dratted impudence. There's nothing like a sound drubbing to bring a woman to her senses. But I don't advise you to qualify for another."He put on his slipper, breathing somewhat heavily after his exertions, then stood up and wiped his forehead. His fury had exhausted itself. His mood had become one of semi-malicious elation.He looked at the girl still crouched over the sofa-head, sobbing and convulsed, utterly broken, utterly conquered."Come!" he said. "Don't let us have any more nonsense! You won't give me any more of your airs after this, and we shall be all the better friends for it. Stand up and say you're sorry!"She gasped and gasped again, but no words could she utter. The hateful callousness of the man could not so much as rouse her scorn. Her pride was in the dust.He took her by the arm and pulled her roughly up, making her stand before him though she was scarcely capable of standing."Come!" he began again, and broke off with a brutal laugh, staring at her.A flame of fierce humiliation went through her, burning her from head to foot as she realized that her night-dress had been rent open across her bosom. She caught it together in her trembling fingers, shrinking in an anguish of shame from the new devil that had begun to gibe at her out of his bloodshot eyes.He laughed again. "Well, my fine madam, we seem to have pitched the proprieties overboard quite completely this time. All your own fault, you know. Serves you jolly well right. You aren't going to say you're sorry, eh? Well, well, I'd give you another spanking if I felt equal to it, but I don't. So I'll have the kiss of peace instead."He caught her to him with the words, gripped her tightly round the body, tilted her head back; and for one unspeakable moment the heavy moustache was crushed suffocatingly upon her panting lips.In that moment the strength of madness entered into Maud, such strength as was later wholly beyond her own comprehension. With frenzied force she resisted him, fighting as if for her very life, and so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that in sheer astonishment his grip relaxed.It was her one chance of escape, and she seized it. With a single furious wrench she tore herself from him, not caring how she did it, found herself free, and fled, fled like a mad thing, panting, dishevelled, frantic, from the room.His laugh of half-tipsy derision followed her, and all the devils of hatred, malice, and bitter cauterizing shame went with her as she fled.CHAPTER XIIITHE ONLY PORTIt was a rainy, squally morning, and Jake returning from the Stables after an early ride, looked down at his muddy gaiters with momentary hesitation. Mrs. Lovelace, his cook and housekeeper, objected very strongly to muddy gaiters in what she was pleased to call "her parlour." They generally meant disaster to a clean table-doth, though Jake himself could never be made to see why, since he was the only person to use it and never noticed its condition, this should be regarded as a matter of vital importance.On the present occasion, Mrs. Lovelace being out of sight and hearing, he decided to risk detection, and, leaving his cap on a peg in the dark oak passage, he passed on to the room overlooking the downs and the distant sea in which he had once entertained Bunny and his sister.Breakfast would be awaiting him, he knew; and he was more than ready for breakfast. In fact he was ravenously hungry, and he hastened to hide the offending gaiters under the spotless table-doth as soon as he had rung the bell for the dish which was being kept hot for him.When Mrs. Lovelace came stoutly in, he greeted her with a smile. "I'm late this morning. Been having a tussle with one of the youngsters. No, don't put that whip away! It wants a new lash. What a cussed nuisance this rain is! The ground is a quagmire, and the animals can hardly keep their feet. Any letters?""One, sir," said Mrs. Lovelace, and laid it before him. Then she looked at him searchingly. "Did you get very muddy?" she enquired."What?" said Jake. He took up his letter. "Yes, you can take the cover. No, leave the coffee! I'll pour that out when I'm ready. Muddy? Look out of the window, my good woman, if you want to know! Don't wait! Time's precious, and I guess you're busy."Again he smiled upon Mrs. Lovelace, his pleasant, candid smile; and Mrs. Lovelace had perforce to smile back and withdraw.Jake heaved a sigh of relief, and began his breakfast. His letter, bearing a purple crest of a fox's head and under it the motto:Sans Vertu, lay on the table before him. He eyed it as he ate, and presently took it up. It bore a Swiss stamp.Jake opened it and read:"DEAR BOLTON,"I meant to winter in Cairo, and heaven alone knows why I am here. It is fiendishly cold, and blowing great guns. There was skating when I arrived, but that is a dream of the oast. We now slop about knee-deep in slush or play cat's cradle in thesalonduring the day. We dance or cuddle in corners practically all night. Some of the female portion of the community are quite passably attractive, but I always preferred one goddess to a crowd, and she is not to be found here. Unless it freezes within the next forty-eight hours, I shall come back to beastly old England and look for her. So if I should turn up at Burchester within the next few days, please accept this (the only) intimation and have the stud ready for inspection."Yours sincerely,"SALTASH."Jake's face wore a curious expression as he folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. It was what Bunny called his "cowboy" look--a look in which humour and sheer, savage determination were very oddly mingled. There was a good deal of the primitive man about him at that moment. He continued his breakfast with business-like rapidity and presently helped himself to coffee with a perfectly steady hand.The cup, however, was still untasted beside him when Mrs. Lovelace once more made her appearance, her plump face looking somewhat startled."Miss Brian has called, sir. Wishes to see you for a moment. Shall I show her in?"Jake's chair scraped back and he was on his feet in a single movement. "Of course! Where is she? No, I'll fetch her myself. Out of the way, my good woman!"He removed her from his path without the smallest ceremony, and was gone before she could protest.In the passage he almost ran into his visitor. "Miss Brian! Is that you? Come right in! Snakes! You're wet. Come along to the fire!"He had her by it before his greeting was fully uttered. A man of action at all times, was Jake. And Maud, still panting from her recent struggle with the elements, found herself in an easy-chair, holding numbed fingers to the blaze almost before she realized how she came to be there. He knelt beside her, unbuttoning her streaming waterproof. She saw the glint of the firelight on his chestnut hair."Thank you," she said, with an effort. "You are very kind."He looked at her with those lynx-like eyes of his. "Say, you're perished!" he said, in his soft, easy drawl.She smiled quiveringly at the concern in his face. She had expected a precipitate enquiry about Bunny, but it was evident that he had thoughts only for her at that moment. And she was very badly in need of human kindness and consideration just then.She sat huddled over the fire, all the queenliness gone out of her, tried to speak to him twice and failed; finally, shook her head and sat in silence.He got up and reached across the table for the coffee he had just poured out."Drink a little!" he said, holding it to her. "You need it."She made a small gesture of impotence. Somehow the warmth and comfort of the room after the cheerless cold without had upset her. She still smiled, but it was a puckered, difficult smile, and her eyes were full of tears. She could not take the cup. Her throat worked painfully. Again she shook her head.Jake stood beside her for a moment or two looking down at her, then with swift decision he set down the coffee, stepped to the door and quietly turned the key.He came back to her with the steady purpose of a man quite sure of himself, knelt again by her side, put his arm about her."You lean on me, my girl!" he said softly. "Don't be afraid!"She gave him a quick look. The tears were running down her face. She covered it suddenly with both hands and sobbed.He drew her to him so gently that she was hardly aware of the action till her head came to rest on his shoulder. His free hand, strong and purposeful, took possession of one of hers and sturdily held it."It's all right," he murmured to her soothingly. "It's all right."She wept for awhile without restraint, her nerves completely shattered, her pride laid low. And while she wept, Jake held her, strongly, sustainingly, his red-brown eyes staring unblinkingly full into the heart of the fire.At the end of a long interval she grew a little calmer, made as if she would withdraw herself. But very quietly he frustrated her."No, not while you're feeling so badly. Say, now, let me take off your hat! Guess I can do it without you moving."She was not in a condition to forbid him, and he removed it with considerable dexterity, while she still hid her quivering face against him with an instinctive confidence that paid a dumb tribute to the man's complete mastery of himself."I'm dreadfully sorry--to have behaved like this," she whispered at last."You needn't be sorry for that," said Jake. "No one will know except me. And I don't count.""I think you do," she faltered, and made a more decided effort to free herself.He let her go with a kindly pat on the shoulder. "Say, now, if that coffee ain't cold, p'raps you'll try a sip."He reached for it and held it to her without rising. She lifted the cup in both her trembling hands while he held the saucer, and slowly drank.Jake's eyes went with abrupt directness to her wrists as she did it. He did not speak at the moment. Only as she returned the cup he put it quietly aside and laid his hand over hers."What's that skunk Sheppard been doing to you?" he asked.She shrank at the straight question "How--how did you know----"He lifted his hand and pushed back her sleeves without speaking. There was something dreadful about him as he regarded the bruises thus exposed.A quick fear went through her. "Jake," she said sharply, "that--is no affair of yours. You are not to--interfere."His eyes came up to hers and the hardness went from him on the instant. "I reckon you're going to make some use of me," he said.She trembled a little and turned her face away. She had used his Christian name spontaneously, and now suddenly she found that all formality had gone from between them. It disconcerted her, frightened her, made her uncertain as to his attitude as well as her own.Jake waited a few seconds; then with the utmost gentleness he laid his hand again upon hers. "Are you afraid to say it?" he said."To say--what?" Her hands moved agitatedly beneath his till strangely, unexpectedly, they turned and clasped it with convulsive strength. "Yes, I am afraid," she said, with a sob."But I asked you to marry me weeks ago," said Jake.Her head was bowed. She sought to avoid his look. "I know you did.""And you are going to marry me," he said, in a tone that was scarcely a question.She turned desperately and faced him. "I must have a clear understanding with you first," she said."I--see," said Jake.He met her eyes with the utmost directness, and before his look hers wavered and fell. "Please!" she whispered. "You must agree to that."He did not speak for a moment, but his fingers wound themselves closely about her own."I don't want you to be scared," he said finally. "But--that's a mighty big thing you've asked of me."Maud's face was burning. "I knew it isn't for me to make--conditions," she said, under her breath.A gleam of humour crossed Jake's face. "I guess it's up to me to accept or refuse," he said. "But--suppose I refuse--what are you going to do then? Will you marry me--all the same?"She shook her head instantly. "I don't know what I shall do, Jake. I--I must go back and think."She mustered her strength and made as if she would rise, but he checked her."Wait!" he said. "I haven't refused--yet. Lean back and rest a bit! I've got to do some thinking too."She obeyed him because it seemed that he must be obeyed. He got to his feet."Poor girl!" he said gently. "It hasn't been easy for you, has it? Reckon you've just been driven to me for refuge. I'm the nearest port, that's all.""The only port," Maud answered, with a shiver."All right," he said. "It's a safe one. But--" He left the sentence unfinished and turned to the window.She lay back with closed eyes, counting the hard throbs of her heart while she waited. He was very quiet, standing behind her with his face to the storm-driven clouds. She longed to know what was passing in his mind, but she could not break the silence. It held her like a spell while the clock on the mantelpiece ticked the dragging minutes away. She whispered to her racing heart that the moment he moved she would rise and go. But while the silence lasted she could not bring herself to stir. She was worn out physically and mentally, almost too weary for thought.He moved at length rather suddenly, wheeled round before she was aware, and came back to the fire."Don't get up!" he said. "You look ready to drop, and you may just as well hear what I have to say sitting. It won't make a mite of difference."She raised her eyes to his in unconscious appeal. "I am afraid I have made a mistake," she said.She saw his smile for a moment. "No, you haven't made a mistake, my girl. You're safe with me. But I wonder if you have the faintest idea now why I want you for my wife."The simple directness of his speech touched her as she did not want to be touched. She sat silent, her hands clasped tightly together."You haven't," he said. "And p'raps this isn't the time to tell you. You've come to me for refuge--as I hoped you would--and I shan't abuse your confidence. But, you know, I had a reason."He paused, but she still said nothing. Only she could not meet his eyes any longer. She looked away into the fire, waiting for him to continue."Say, now," he said, after a moment, "if I make a bargain with you, you won't accuse me of taking advantage of your position?"She winced a little. "I wish you--to forget--that I ever said that.""All right. It is forgotten," said Jake. "I'll go ahead. We haven't mentioned Bunny though I take it he is a fairly big factor in the case. That is to say, if it hadn't been for Bunny, you would never have taken this step."Maud's eyes went swiftly up to his. "But of course I shouldn't!" she said quickly. "I thought you understood that.""I quite understand," said Jake. "I assure you I'm not taking anything for granted. But now--I want to put it to you--supposing the impossible happened, supposing Bunny were cured,--yes, it's only the hundredth chance, I know--still, just for a moment, suppose it! Bunny cured, able to look after himself like other lads. You would be married to me. What then?""What then?" She repeated the words, still with an effort meeting his look.He made a slight gesture with one hand. "You would stick to me?"The hot colour flooded her face and neck. "Of course," she said, her voice very low. "That goes without saying."He bent slowly towards her. "Maud, if we ever live alone together, it must be as man and wife."His voice was low too, but she heard in it a deep note that seemed to pierce through and through her. His eyes drew and held her own. She wanted to avoid them but could not. They burned like the red, inner heart of a furnace.The blood receded from her face. She felt it go. "We--need never live alone," she said faintly.He held out a quiet hand to her. "P'raps not. But I should like your promise to that, all the same." He paused a moment; then added: "I have sworn already to be good to you, remember."She laid her hand in his. She could not do otherwise. He held it and waited."Very well," she said at last, her voice almost a whisper. "I--agree."He let her go, and straightened himself. "It's a deal, then," he said. "And now for more immediate details. You've decided to marry me, and I gather you don't mind how soon?"He picked up a clay pipe from the mantelpiece, and knocked out some ash against the fireplace.Maud watched him with a curious species of fascination. There was something in the man's serenity of mien that puzzled her, something that did not go with those fiery, possessive eyes.He looked at her with a smile that was half-quizzical, half-kindly, and her heart began to beat more freely."We must somehow get away from 'The Anchor' to-day," she said. "I have a little money. Perhaps if you would help me to move Bunny, we could go into lodgings again until----""I have a little money too," said Jake. "And I will certainly help you. But first,--do you object to telling me what has been happening at 'The Anchor'?"She coloured again vividly, painfully, but he was fully engrossed with the filling of his pipe and did not notice her embarrassment."To begin with," she said with difficulty, "he--Mr. Sheppard--has turned us out of the room downstairs. He carried Bunny off himself to an attic under the roof, and hurt him horribly. I was driven nearly mad at the time." She broke off, shuddering at the remembrance.Jake frowned. "Go on!" he said briefly.She went on with increasing difficulty. "That happened yesterday. I hoped you would come round in the afternoon or evening, but you didn't.""I couldn't get away," he interpolated. "Yes? And then?""Then--in the evening--that is, late at night--" Maud stumbled like a nervous child--"I went down to fetch something and he--he came in after me, half-tipsy; and--and--he--" She halted suddenly. "I can't go on!" she said, with quivering lips.Jake laid aside his pipe and stooped over her. "Did he beat you, or did he make love to you? Which?" he said.There was a sound in his voice like the growl of an angry beast. She could not look him in the face."Tell me!" he said, and laid an imperative hand on her shoulder. "You need never tell anyone else."She shrank a little. "I don't see why I should tell you," she said reluctantly."You must tell me," said Jake with decision.And, after brief hesitation, miserably, with face averted, she yielded and told him. After all, why should he not know? Her dainty pride was crushed for ever. She could sink no lower."He held me down and thrashed me--with his slipper. I was in my night-dress, and--and it was rather a brutal thrashing. Perhaps some women wouldn't have minded it much; but I--I am not used to that kind of treatment. I hope you will never beat me, Jake. I don't bear it very heroically."She tried to laugh, but it was a piteous little sound that came from her quivering throat.Jake's hand closed upon her shoulder. She seemed to feel the whole man vibrate behind it like a steel spring. Yet he made no comment whatever. "Go on!" he said, his voice short and stern. "Tell me everything!"She braced herself to finish. "He went on till he was tired. I believe I was wailing like a baby, but no one heard. And then--and then--he suddenly discovered that I was a woman and not a naughty child, and he--he--kissed me." She shuddered suddenly and violently. "That's nearly all," she ended. "I got away from him, heaven knows how. And I got back to Bunny. I didn't tell him everything, but I couldn't help him knowing I was upset. We neither of us slept all night. And the night before was a bad one too. That's how I came to be so idiotic just now."She leaned slowly back in her chair till she rested against the hand he had laid upon her."Do you know," she said tremulously, after a moment, "I think it has actually done me good to tell you? You are very kind to me, Jake."He withdrew his hand and turned away. "That may be," he said enigmatically. "And again it may not. Thanks anyway for telling me." He picked up the horsewhip that he had flung down on entering, and began with his square, steady fingers to remove the lash. "You are right. You can't spend another night at 'The Anchor.' If you will allow me, I will find some comfortable rooms where you and Bunny can stay till we can get married. I will go up to-morrow and get a special licence. The marriage might be arranged for Sunday--if that will suit you.""Next Sunday?" Maud started round and looked at him with startled eyes.He nodded. "In church. After the eight o'clock service if there is one. Your mother must give you away. Afterwards, we will come on here with the boy." He glanced round at her. "He shall have this room for the daytime, and the one over it to sleep in. I'm sorry there are not two ground-floor rooms for him; but I know how to carry him in comfort. Of course, if necessary this room could be used as a bedroom as well."He threw down the worn lash and went to a drawer for a new one. Maud still watched him in silence."Does that meet with your approval?" he asked at length."I think you are--more than good," she said, a tremor of feeling in her voice.He kept his eyes lowered over his task. "I am not hustling you too much?" he enquired.She smiled wanly. "I am asking myself if I ought to let you do it," she said. "It doesn't seem very fair to you.""It chances to be the thing I want," said Jake, his fingers still busy. "And I reckon you won't disappoint me--won't draw back? I can count on you?"She rose, turning fully towards him. "You can certainly count on me," she said. "But are you really sure you meant it? It isn't going to spoil your life?"Jake stood upright with a jerk. She met the extraordinary brightness of his eyes with an odd mixture of boldness and reluctance."My girl," he said, in his queer, anomalous drawl, "there ain't a man anywhere in God's universe who knows what he wants better than I do. If I didn't want this thing I shouldn't ask for it. See?" He came to her with the words, and laid one finger on her arm. "Don't you know it's your friendship I'm after?" he said, with a touch of aggressiveness. "Why, I've been after it ever since that night I found you down in the dark alone on the edge of the parade. You were up against it that night, weren't you? And didn't like me over much for butting in. Do you know what you made me think of? A forlorn princess of the Middle Ages. There's a mediæval flavour about you. I don't know where you keep it. But it makes me feel mediæval too."She drew back a little, stiffened ever so slightly. Something in her resented the freedom of his speech. Something rose in swift revolt and clamoured to be gone.He must have seen her gesture, her quick, protesting blush; for he turned almost instantly and jerked the whip-lash through his fingers, testing it.A fitful gleam of sunshine suddenly pierced the clouds behind him and shone on his bent head. His hair gleamed like burnished copper. The tawny glint of it made her think of an animal--a beast of prey, alert, merciless, primeval.She put on her hat. "I must be getting back to Bunny," she said."I am coming with you," said Jake.She looked at him sharply. "You will walk?""Yes, I shall walk."She pointed with nervous abruptness to the whip he held. "Then you won't want that."Jake smiled, and tested the whip again without speaking.Maud waited a moment; then steadily she spoke. "You realized of course, that when I told you about Mr. Sheppard's behaviour of last night, it was in strict confidence?"Jake squared his broad shoulders. "All right, my girl. It's safe with me," he said. "There shan't be any scandal."Maud was very white, but quite resolute. "Jake," she said, "you are not to do it."He raised his brows."You are not to do it!" she said again, with vehemence. "I mean it! I mean it! The quarrel is not yours. You are not to make it so." She paused, and suddenly caught her breath. "Oh, don't look at me like that! You make me--afraid!"Jake turned and tossed the whip down on the window-seat. "You've nothing to be afraid of," he said rather curtly. "You're making your own bugbear. P'raps it's natural," he added, with abrupt gentleness. "You've had a lot to bear lately. There! I've done what you asked. We had better get back while it's fine."He unlocked and opened the door, standing back for her to pass.He kept his eyes downcast as she went through, and she knew that it was in response to her appeal that he did so. She tingled with a burning embarrassment, which vanished all in a moment as he said: "Say, now, do you mind if I light my pipe before I follow you? Don't wait! I'll catch you up."And she made her way out into the fleeting sunlight and racing wind with a strong sense of relief. The pipe was not a particularly aristocratic feature of Jake's existence, but it was an extremely characteristic one, and it placed matters on a normal footing at once. Jake was never disconcerting or formidable when he was smoking a pipe. She consented to it gladly.And Jake turned back into the room with a grim smile on his lips, picked up a letter from the table, and thrust it deep into the fire.After that he lighted his pipe with the charred remnants thereof, and followed Maud into the open.
CHAPTER XI
THE DECLARATION OF WAR
For three weeks after that Sunday visit to Jake's home, life went on as usual, and a certain measure of tranquillity returned to Maud.
She found herself able to meet the man without any show of embarrassment, and, finding him absolutely normal in his behaviour towards her, she began to feel a greater confidence in his presence. He had promised that he would not force himself upon her, and it was evident that he had every intention of keeping his word. That he might by imperceptible degrees draw nearer to her, become more intimate, was a possibility that for a time troubled her; but he was so absolutely considerate in all his dealings with her that this fear of hers at length died away. If he were playing a waiting game he did it with a patience so consummate that his tactics were wholly hidden from her. He had to all appearances accepted her decision as final, and put the notion away as impracticable.
Christmas was drawing near, and several visitors had already arrived. There was generally a short season at Christmas, during which the Anchor Hotel had its regular patrons. Its landlord was in an extremely variable state of mind, sometimes aggressive, sometimes jovial, frequently not wholly sober. Maud avoided all contact with him with rigorous persistence, her mother's protests notwithstanding.
"He can't be civil to me," she said, "and he shall not have the opportunity of being anything else."
And no persuasion could move her from this attitude. Mrs. Sheppard was obliged reluctantly to abandon the attempt. She herself was seldom out of favour with her husband, whatever his condition, and that after all was what mattered most.
But the state of affairs was such as was almost bound to lead to a climax sooner or later. Giles Sheppard's hectoring mood was not of the sort to be satisfied for long with passive avoidance. Every glimpse he had of the girl, who ate his bread but disdained to do so in his company or the company of his friends, inflamed him the more hotly against her. It needed but a pretext to set his wrath ablaze, and a pretext was not far to seek.
One day about a week before Christmas he unexpectedly presented himself at the door of Bunny's room.
The weather was damp and raw, and a cheerful fire burned there. Bunny was lying among pillows on the sofa. He had had a bad night, and his face, as he turned it to the intruder, was white and drawn.
"What on earth--" he began querulously.
Sheppard entered with arrogance, leaving the door wide open behind him. "Look here!" he said harshly. "You've got to turn out of this. The room is wanted."
Maud, who was dusting the room as was her daily custom, turned swiftly round with something of the movement of a tigress. Her face was pale also. She had slept even less than Bunny the previous night. Her blue eyes shone like two flames under her knitted brows.
"What do you mean?" she said.
He looked at her with insult in his eyes. "I mean just that, my fine madam," he said. "This room is wanted. The boy will have to go with the rest of the lumber--at the top of the house."
It was brutally spoken, but the brutality was aimed at her, not Bunny. Maud realized that fact, and curbed her resentment. She could endure--or so she fancied--his personal hostility with fortitude. But his announcement was sufficiently disquieting in itself.
"I understood that we were not to be disturbed at any time," she said, meeting his look with that icy pride of hers that was the only weapon at her command. "Surely some other arrangement can be made?"
Sheppard growled out a strangled oath; she always made him feel at a disadvantage, this slip of a girl whom he could have picked up with one hand had he chosen.
"I tell you, this room is wanted," he reiterated stormily. "You'd better clear out at once."
"Bunny can't possibly be moved to-day," Maud said quickly and decidedly. "He is in pain. Can't you see for yourself how impossible it is? I am quite sure no visitor who knew the facts of the case would wish to turn him out."
Sheppard stamped a furious foot. He was getting up his fury; and suddenly she saw that he had been drinking. The knowledge came upon her in a flash of understanding, and with it a disgust so complete that it overwhelmed every other consideration.
She pointed to the door. "Go!" she said, in tense, frozen accents. "Go at once! How dare you come in here in this state?"
Before her withering disdain he drew back, as it were involuntarily. He even half turned to obey. Then, suddenly some devil prompted him, and he swung back again. With one gigantic stride he reached the sofa; and before either brother or sister knew what he intended to do he had roughly seized upon the boy's slight body and lifted it in his great arms.
Bunny's agonized outcry at the action mingled with his sister's, but it ceased almost immediately. He collapsed in the giant grip like an empty sack, and Sheppard, now wrought to a blind fury that had no thought for consequences, carried him from the room and along the passage to the stairs, utterly unheeding the fact that he had fainted.
Maud, nearly beside herself, went with him, striving to support the limp body where long experience had taught her support was needed. They went up the stairs so, flight after flight, Sheppard savage and stubborn, the girl in a dumb agony of anxiety, seeking only to relieve the dreadful strain that had bereft Bunny of his senses.
They reached at length a room at the top of the house, a bare garret of a place with sloping ceiling and uncarpeted floor. There was a bed under the skylight, and on this the man deposited his burden.
Then he turned and looked at Maud with eyes of cruel malevolence. "This is good enough for you and yours," he said.
Over Bunny's body she flung her fruitless defiance. "You drunken brute!" she said. "You loathsome coward! You hateful, tipsy bully!"
The words pierced him like the stabs of a dagger too swift to evade. He was sober enough to be cowed.
From the door he looked back at her, where she stood at the bedside, upright, quivering, a dart-like creature full of menace despite her delicacy of form and fibre. Again he knew himself to be at a disadvantage. He had not drunk enough to be intrepid. Swearing and malignant, he withdrew like a savage beast. But as he went, the madness of hatred rose in a swirl to his brain. She had defied him, had she? Her bitter words rang again and again in his ears. She had proclaimed him a drunkard, a coward, a bully! And she thought he would put up with it. Did she? Did she? Thought she could insult him with impunity in his own house! Thought he would tamely endure her impertinences for all time! He ground his teeth as he went down to the bar. He would have a reckoning with her presently. Yes, there should be a reckoning. He had borne with her too long--too long! Now matters had come to a head. She would either have to humble herself or go.
He had tried to be patient. He had hoped that Jake Bolton would soon relieve him of the unwelcome burden he had taken upon himself. Jake could tame her; he was quite sure of that. But Jake seemed to be making no headway. He had even begun to wonder lately if Jake meant business after all.
In any case he was at the end of his patience; and when his wife came to him with tears to remonstrate on behalf of poor little Bunny he hardened himself against her and refused to discuss the subject.
As for Maud, she spent the rest of the day in trying to make Bunny's new quarters habitable. She hoped with all her heart that Jake would come in the evening so that they could move him into the room she occupied, a floor lower, which had at least a fireplace. But for once Jake disappointed her, and so the whole day passed in severe pain for Bunny and vexation of spirit for her.
Towards evening to her relief he began to doze. She watched beside him anxiously. He had been very plucky, displaying an odd protective attitude towards herself that had gone to her heart; but she knew that at times he had suffered intensely and the fact had been almost more than she could bear. She knew that it would be days before he would shake off the effects of the rough handling he had received, and she dreaded the future with a foreboding that made her feel physically sick.
Now that Sheppard's animosity had developed into active hostility, she knew that the situation could not last much longer, but how to escape it remained a problem unsolved. Her uncle had made no reply to her letter. She could not write to him again. And there was no one else to whom she could appeal. Alone, she could have faced the world and somehow made a way for herself; but with Bunny-- She clenched her hands in impotent anguish. There was only one person in the world willing to lift the burden from her, only one person besides herself who really cared for Bunny. She suddenly began to tremble. That sense of approaching doom was upon her again. The current had caught her surely, surely, and was whirling her away.
Bunny stirred--as though somehow caught in the net of her emotions--stirred and came out of uneasy slumber.
"I say, Maud!"
"What is it, darling? Are you uncomfortable?" There was a wealth of mother-love in her low voice as she bent above him.
Bunny put out a cold, moist hand. "I say, Maud," he said again, "Jake's a good sort. You like Jake, don't you?"
"Yes, darling," she answered soothingly.
He turned his head on the pillow; she could feel his fingers opening and closing in the restless way he had. "I like him too," he said. "I like him awfully. He's--the real thing. I wish----"
"What, Bunny?" There was constraint in her voice, and she knew it, but it was a subject upon which she could not bring herself to speak freely. She dreaded his answer more than she could have said.
Possibly he divined the fact, for he heaved a sharp sigh and said, "Nothing," in a tone that told her that he was very far from satisfied.
But she could not pursue the matter. Thankfully she let it drop.
The evening wore away. There was only one candle in the room. By it she and Bunny ate the supper which Maud herself had fetched from the kitchen. No one had time to wait upon them. The boy was still trying to make the best of things, and she marvelled at his courage.
When the meal was over he looked at her with a faint smile under his drawn brows. "Look here, Maud! There's that bed in the corner. Can't you make it comfortable and get a good night for once?"
She looked at him in surprise. It was very unusual for Bunny to give a thought to her comfort.
"Yes, I want you to," he said. "Go and undress, and then bring your blankets up here! You can't sit up all night in a straight-backed chair, so you may as well be comfortable. Don't stare! Go and do it!"
The bed in the corner was a thing of broken springs and crippled frame-work, but it had a mattress of straw albeit bedclothes were lacking. Bunny's suggestion seemed feasible, and since it was plain that he would not be content unless she followed it she yielded without demur. Her own room was only a flight of stairs away, and she had already fetched several things from it for his comfort. She hoped to get him down to it on the following day, if only Jake would come. It was neither warm nor spacious, but it was preferable to this fireless attic.
She brought the blankets, and arranged the bed. "I don't think I'll undress, Bunny," she said.
"You are to," said Bunny. "Jake says no one can possibly rest properly without."
She was inclined to resent this assertion of Jake's teaching, but again she yielded. Bunny was in a mood to work himself into a fever if his behests were not obeyed.
She went down and undressed therefore, and presently slipped up to him again, hoping to find him asleep. But he was wide-eyed and restless.
"It's so beastly cold," he said. "I can't sleep. My feet are like stones. Where's the fur rug?"
She looked round for it. "Oh, Bunny, I'm so sorry. I must have left it in your room downstairs. Never mind! Here's a blanket instead!"
She was already pulling it off her bed when Bunny asserted himself once more.
"Maud, I won't have it! I will not have it! Do you hear? Put it back again! Why can't you go and fetch the fur rug?"
"My dear, I can't go down like this," she objected.
"Rot!" said Bunny. "Everyone's gone to bed by now. If you don't get it, they'll be turning the room out in the morning, and it'll get lost. Besides, you look all right."
She was wearing no more than a light wrap over her night-dress; but, as Bunny said, it was probable that everyone had retired, for the hour was late. Only a few dim lights were left burning in the passages. There would be no one about, and it would not take two minutes to slip down and get the rug. She dropped the blanket he had refused, and went softly out.
CHAPTER XII
THE RECKONING
The whole house was in silence as noiselessly she stole down the stairs. It was close upon midnight, and she did not meet or hear anyone. The place might have been empty, so still was it.
The long, long roar of the sea came to her as she groped her way down the winding, dark passage that led to the room from which Bunny had been so rudely ejected a few hours before. There was no light here, but she knew her way perfectly, and, finding the door, softly opened it and turned on the electric light.
The room was just as she had left it, the sofa drawn up by the burnt-out fire. She had collected all Bunny's things earlier in the evening, but, since the rug had been forgotten, she thought it advisable to take the opportunity of ascertaining if anything else had been left behind. She found the rug, pushed the sofa back against the wall, and began a quiet search of all the drawers and other receptacles the room contained.
She had almost finished her task, and was just closing the writing-table drawer when a sudden sound made her start. A creaking footstep came from the passage beyond the open door. She turned swiftly with a jerking heart to see her step-father, bloated and malignant, standing on the threshold.
For a single instant he stood there looking at her, and a great throb of misgiving went through her at the savage triumph in his eyes. He had been drinking, drinking heavily she was sure; but he did not seem to be intoxicated, only horribly sure of himself, brutally free from any trammels of civilization. He closed the door with decision, and moved forward.
In the same moment she moved also towards the sofa over which she had thrown the rug she had come to fetch. Her heart was beating hard and fast, but she would not address a single word to him, would not so much as seem to see him. Supremely disdainful, she prepared to gather up her property and go.
But as she turned to the door she found him barring the way. He spoke, thickly yet not indistinctly.
"Not so fast, my fine madam! I've got to have a reckoning with you."
She drew herself up to the utmost of her slim height, and gave him a single brief glance of disgust. "Be good enough to let me pass!" she said, in tones of clear command.
But Sheppard did not move. He had been fortifying himself against any sudden strain such as this all day long.
"Not so fast!" he said again, with a gleam of teeth under his dark moustache. "You made a mistake this morning, young woman; a very big mistake. Don't make another to-night!"
Maud froze to an icier contempt. The steady courage of her must have shamed any man in his sober senses.
"Stand aside instantly," she said, "or I shall ring the bell and rouse the house!"
He laughed at that, a cruel, vindictive laugh. "Oh, you don't come over me that way! You mean to have your lesson, I see, and p'raps it's as well. It's been postponed too long already. There's a deal too much spirit about you, and too much lip too. You think I'll put up with anything, don't you? Think yourself much too high and mighty to associate with the likes of me? Think you can call me any darn' names you please, and I'll bear 'em like a lamb?"
His voice rose. Obviously his temper was already beyond control. He was in fact lashing it on to fury. Maud knew the process well.
It was enough for her, and she waited for no more. She stepped quietly to the bell.
She was nearer to it than he, and she did not for a moment imagine that he would dare to molest her. But she had not realized the maddened condition to which he had wrought himself; and even when he suddenly and violently strode forward she did not draw back or dream that he would touch her.
Only as his hand caught her outstretched arm did the knowledge that he was as utterly beyond control as a wild beast burst upon her. She uttered a desperate cry, and began a sharp, instinctive struggle to escape.
It was a very brief struggle, so taken by surprise and utterly unprepared was she. One moment she was fighting wildly for freedom; the next he had her at his mercy.
"Oh, you may scream!" he gibed. "No one will hear you! Now--do you know what I am going to do to you?"
"Let me go!" she panted, crimson and breathless.
He locked her two wrists together in one iron hand. His strength was utterly irresistible. She was as a pigmy in the grip of a giant.
"I'll let you go when I've done with you," he said, gloating openly over her quivering helplessness. "But first you will have your lesson. I'm going to give you the trouncing of your life!"
With the words he suddenly wrenched her round and forced her, almost flung her, face downwards over the sofa-head.
"You've been spoiling for this for a long time," he said, "and--being your step-father--I'll see that you get it. Never had a good spanking before in all your life, I daresay? Well, well see how you like this one!"
And therewith he pulled off one of his down-at-heel carpet slippers and proceeded to flog her with it, as if she had been a boy.
What she went through during that awful chastisement Maud never forgot. She fought at first like a mad creature till she was suddenly aware of the light wrap she wore ripping in all directions, and from that moment she resisted no more, standing passive in an agony of apprehension while he wreaked upon her all the pent malice of the past few weeks.
It was a brutal punishment, administered with the savage intention of breaking down the stark silence with which she sought to meet it. And even when he succeeded at last, even when the girl's strength went from her and she collapsed as he held her with a wild burst of hysterical crying and broken, unnerved entreaties, he did not stay his hand. Now was his grand opportunity for vengeance, and he might never get another. He did not spare her until he had inflicted the utmost of which he was capable.
Then at last roughly he set her free. "That's right! Blub away!" he jeered. "I've taken all the stiffening out of you at last, and a damn' good job too. P'raps you'll keep a civil tongue in your head for the future, and give me no more of your dratted impudence. There's nothing like a sound drubbing to bring a woman to her senses. But I don't advise you to qualify for another."
He put on his slipper, breathing somewhat heavily after his exertions, then stood up and wiped his forehead. His fury had exhausted itself. His mood had become one of semi-malicious elation.
He looked at the girl still crouched over the sofa-head, sobbing and convulsed, utterly broken, utterly conquered.
"Come!" he said. "Don't let us have any more nonsense! You won't give me any more of your airs after this, and we shall be all the better friends for it. Stand up and say you're sorry!"
She gasped and gasped again, but no words could she utter. The hateful callousness of the man could not so much as rouse her scorn. Her pride was in the dust.
He took her by the arm and pulled her roughly up, making her stand before him though she was scarcely capable of standing.
"Come!" he began again, and broke off with a brutal laugh, staring at her.
A flame of fierce humiliation went through her, burning her from head to foot as she realized that her night-dress had been rent open across her bosom. She caught it together in her trembling fingers, shrinking in an anguish of shame from the new devil that had begun to gibe at her out of his bloodshot eyes.
He laughed again. "Well, my fine madam, we seem to have pitched the proprieties overboard quite completely this time. All your own fault, you know. Serves you jolly well right. You aren't going to say you're sorry, eh? Well, well, I'd give you another spanking if I felt equal to it, but I don't. So I'll have the kiss of peace instead."
He caught her to him with the words, gripped her tightly round the body, tilted her head back; and for one unspeakable moment the heavy moustache was crushed suffocatingly upon her panting lips.
In that moment the strength of madness entered into Maud, such strength as was later wholly beyond her own comprehension. With frenzied force she resisted him, fighting as if for her very life, and so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that in sheer astonishment his grip relaxed.
It was her one chance of escape, and she seized it. With a single furious wrench she tore herself from him, not caring how she did it, found herself free, and fled, fled like a mad thing, panting, dishevelled, frantic, from the room.
His laugh of half-tipsy derision followed her, and all the devils of hatred, malice, and bitter cauterizing shame went with her as she fled.
CHAPTER XIII
THE ONLY PORT
It was a rainy, squally morning, and Jake returning from the Stables after an early ride, looked down at his muddy gaiters with momentary hesitation. Mrs. Lovelace, his cook and housekeeper, objected very strongly to muddy gaiters in what she was pleased to call "her parlour." They generally meant disaster to a clean table-doth, though Jake himself could never be made to see why, since he was the only person to use it and never noticed its condition, this should be regarded as a matter of vital importance.
On the present occasion, Mrs. Lovelace being out of sight and hearing, he decided to risk detection, and, leaving his cap on a peg in the dark oak passage, he passed on to the room overlooking the downs and the distant sea in which he had once entertained Bunny and his sister.
Breakfast would be awaiting him, he knew; and he was more than ready for breakfast. In fact he was ravenously hungry, and he hastened to hide the offending gaiters under the spotless table-doth as soon as he had rung the bell for the dish which was being kept hot for him.
When Mrs. Lovelace came stoutly in, he greeted her with a smile. "I'm late this morning. Been having a tussle with one of the youngsters. No, don't put that whip away! It wants a new lash. What a cussed nuisance this rain is! The ground is a quagmire, and the animals can hardly keep their feet. Any letters?"
"One, sir," said Mrs. Lovelace, and laid it before him. Then she looked at him searchingly. "Did you get very muddy?" she enquired.
"What?" said Jake. He took up his letter. "Yes, you can take the cover. No, leave the coffee! I'll pour that out when I'm ready. Muddy? Look out of the window, my good woman, if you want to know! Don't wait! Time's precious, and I guess you're busy."
Again he smiled upon Mrs. Lovelace, his pleasant, candid smile; and Mrs. Lovelace had perforce to smile back and withdraw.
Jake heaved a sigh of relief, and began his breakfast. His letter, bearing a purple crest of a fox's head and under it the motto:Sans Vertu, lay on the table before him. He eyed it as he ate, and presently took it up. It bore a Swiss stamp.
Jake opened it and read:
"DEAR BOLTON,
"I meant to winter in Cairo, and heaven alone knows why I am here. It is fiendishly cold, and blowing great guns. There was skating when I arrived, but that is a dream of the oast. We now slop about knee-deep in slush or play cat's cradle in thesalonduring the day. We dance or cuddle in corners practically all night. Some of the female portion of the community are quite passably attractive, but I always preferred one goddess to a crowd, and she is not to be found here. Unless it freezes within the next forty-eight hours, I shall come back to beastly old England and look for her. So if I should turn up at Burchester within the next few days, please accept this (the only) intimation and have the stud ready for inspection.
"SALTASH."
Jake's face wore a curious expression as he folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. It was what Bunny called his "cowboy" look--a look in which humour and sheer, savage determination were very oddly mingled. There was a good deal of the primitive man about him at that moment. He continued his breakfast with business-like rapidity and presently helped himself to coffee with a perfectly steady hand.
The cup, however, was still untasted beside him when Mrs. Lovelace once more made her appearance, her plump face looking somewhat startled.
"Miss Brian has called, sir. Wishes to see you for a moment. Shall I show her in?"
Jake's chair scraped back and he was on his feet in a single movement. "Of course! Where is she? No, I'll fetch her myself. Out of the way, my good woman!"
He removed her from his path without the smallest ceremony, and was gone before she could protest.
In the passage he almost ran into his visitor. "Miss Brian! Is that you? Come right in! Snakes! You're wet. Come along to the fire!"
He had her by it before his greeting was fully uttered. A man of action at all times, was Jake. And Maud, still panting from her recent struggle with the elements, found herself in an easy-chair, holding numbed fingers to the blaze almost before she realized how she came to be there. He knelt beside her, unbuttoning her streaming waterproof. She saw the glint of the firelight on his chestnut hair.
"Thank you," she said, with an effort. "You are very kind."
He looked at her with those lynx-like eyes of his. "Say, you're perished!" he said, in his soft, easy drawl.
She smiled quiveringly at the concern in his face. She had expected a precipitate enquiry about Bunny, but it was evident that he had thoughts only for her at that moment. And she was very badly in need of human kindness and consideration just then.
She sat huddled over the fire, all the queenliness gone out of her, tried to speak to him twice and failed; finally, shook her head and sat in silence.
He got up and reached across the table for the coffee he had just poured out.
"Drink a little!" he said, holding it to her. "You need it."
She made a small gesture of impotence. Somehow the warmth and comfort of the room after the cheerless cold without had upset her. She still smiled, but it was a puckered, difficult smile, and her eyes were full of tears. She could not take the cup. Her throat worked painfully. Again she shook her head.
Jake stood beside her for a moment or two looking down at her, then with swift decision he set down the coffee, stepped to the door and quietly turned the key.
He came back to her with the steady purpose of a man quite sure of himself, knelt again by her side, put his arm about her.
"You lean on me, my girl!" he said softly. "Don't be afraid!"
She gave him a quick look. The tears were running down her face. She covered it suddenly with both hands and sobbed.
He drew her to him so gently that she was hardly aware of the action till her head came to rest on his shoulder. His free hand, strong and purposeful, took possession of one of hers and sturdily held it.
"It's all right," he murmured to her soothingly. "It's all right."
She wept for awhile without restraint, her nerves completely shattered, her pride laid low. And while she wept, Jake held her, strongly, sustainingly, his red-brown eyes staring unblinkingly full into the heart of the fire.
At the end of a long interval she grew a little calmer, made as if she would withdraw herself. But very quietly he frustrated her.
"No, not while you're feeling so badly. Say, now, let me take off your hat! Guess I can do it without you moving."
She was not in a condition to forbid him, and he removed it with considerable dexterity, while she still hid her quivering face against him with an instinctive confidence that paid a dumb tribute to the man's complete mastery of himself.
"I'm dreadfully sorry--to have behaved like this," she whispered at last.
"You needn't be sorry for that," said Jake. "No one will know except me. And I don't count."
"I think you do," she faltered, and made a more decided effort to free herself.
He let her go with a kindly pat on the shoulder. "Say, now, if that coffee ain't cold, p'raps you'll try a sip."
He reached for it and held it to her without rising. She lifted the cup in both her trembling hands while he held the saucer, and slowly drank.
Jake's eyes went with abrupt directness to her wrists as she did it. He did not speak at the moment. Only as she returned the cup he put it quietly aside and laid his hand over hers.
"What's that skunk Sheppard been doing to you?" he asked.
She shrank at the straight question "How--how did you know----"
He lifted his hand and pushed back her sleeves without speaking. There was something dreadful about him as he regarded the bruises thus exposed.
A quick fear went through her. "Jake," she said sharply, "that--is no affair of yours. You are not to--interfere."
His eyes came up to hers and the hardness went from him on the instant. "I reckon you're going to make some use of me," he said.
She trembled a little and turned her face away. She had used his Christian name spontaneously, and now suddenly she found that all formality had gone from between them. It disconcerted her, frightened her, made her uncertain as to his attitude as well as her own.
Jake waited a few seconds; then with the utmost gentleness he laid his hand again upon hers. "Are you afraid to say it?" he said.
"To say--what?" Her hands moved agitatedly beneath his till strangely, unexpectedly, they turned and clasped it with convulsive strength. "Yes, I am afraid," she said, with a sob.
"But I asked you to marry me weeks ago," said Jake.
Her head was bowed. She sought to avoid his look. "I know you did."
"And you are going to marry me," he said, in a tone that was scarcely a question.
She turned desperately and faced him. "I must have a clear understanding with you first," she said.
"I--see," said Jake.
He met her eyes with the utmost directness, and before his look hers wavered and fell. "Please!" she whispered. "You must agree to that."
He did not speak for a moment, but his fingers wound themselves closely about her own.
"I don't want you to be scared," he said finally. "But--that's a mighty big thing you've asked of me."
Maud's face was burning. "I knew it isn't for me to make--conditions," she said, under her breath.
A gleam of humour crossed Jake's face. "I guess it's up to me to accept or refuse," he said. "But--suppose I refuse--what are you going to do then? Will you marry me--all the same?"
She shook her head instantly. "I don't know what I shall do, Jake. I--I must go back and think."
She mustered her strength and made as if she would rise, but he checked her.
"Wait!" he said. "I haven't refused--yet. Lean back and rest a bit! I've got to do some thinking too."
She obeyed him because it seemed that he must be obeyed. He got to his feet.
"Poor girl!" he said gently. "It hasn't been easy for you, has it? Reckon you've just been driven to me for refuge. I'm the nearest port, that's all."
"The only port," Maud answered, with a shiver.
"All right," he said. "It's a safe one. But--" He left the sentence unfinished and turned to the window.
She lay back with closed eyes, counting the hard throbs of her heart while she waited. He was very quiet, standing behind her with his face to the storm-driven clouds. She longed to know what was passing in his mind, but she could not break the silence. It held her like a spell while the clock on the mantelpiece ticked the dragging minutes away. She whispered to her racing heart that the moment he moved she would rise and go. But while the silence lasted she could not bring herself to stir. She was worn out physically and mentally, almost too weary for thought.
He moved at length rather suddenly, wheeled round before she was aware, and came back to the fire.
"Don't get up!" he said. "You look ready to drop, and you may just as well hear what I have to say sitting. It won't make a mite of difference."
She raised her eyes to his in unconscious appeal. "I am afraid I have made a mistake," she said.
She saw his smile for a moment. "No, you haven't made a mistake, my girl. You're safe with me. But I wonder if you have the faintest idea now why I want you for my wife."
The simple directness of his speech touched her as she did not want to be touched. She sat silent, her hands clasped tightly together.
"You haven't," he said. "And p'raps this isn't the time to tell you. You've come to me for refuge--as I hoped you would--and I shan't abuse your confidence. But, you know, I had a reason."
He paused, but she still said nothing. Only she could not meet his eyes any longer. She looked away into the fire, waiting for him to continue.
"Say, now," he said, after a moment, "if I make a bargain with you, you won't accuse me of taking advantage of your position?"
She winced a little. "I wish you--to forget--that I ever said that."
"All right. It is forgotten," said Jake. "I'll go ahead. We haven't mentioned Bunny though I take it he is a fairly big factor in the case. That is to say, if it hadn't been for Bunny, you would never have taken this step."
Maud's eyes went swiftly up to his. "But of course I shouldn't!" she said quickly. "I thought you understood that."
"I quite understand," said Jake. "I assure you I'm not taking anything for granted. But now--I want to put it to you--supposing the impossible happened, supposing Bunny were cured,--yes, it's only the hundredth chance, I know--still, just for a moment, suppose it! Bunny cured, able to look after himself like other lads. You would be married to me. What then?"
"What then?" She repeated the words, still with an effort meeting his look.
He made a slight gesture with one hand. "You would stick to me?"
The hot colour flooded her face and neck. "Of course," she said, her voice very low. "That goes without saying."
He bent slowly towards her. "Maud, if we ever live alone together, it must be as man and wife."
His voice was low too, but she heard in it a deep note that seemed to pierce through and through her. His eyes drew and held her own. She wanted to avoid them but could not. They burned like the red, inner heart of a furnace.
The blood receded from her face. She felt it go. "We--need never live alone," she said faintly.
He held out a quiet hand to her. "P'raps not. But I should like your promise to that, all the same." He paused a moment; then added: "I have sworn already to be good to you, remember."
She laid her hand in his. She could not do otherwise. He held it and waited.
"Very well," she said at last, her voice almost a whisper. "I--agree."
He let her go, and straightened himself. "It's a deal, then," he said. "And now for more immediate details. You've decided to marry me, and I gather you don't mind how soon?"
He picked up a clay pipe from the mantelpiece, and knocked out some ash against the fireplace.
Maud watched him with a curious species of fascination. There was something in the man's serenity of mien that puzzled her, something that did not go with those fiery, possessive eyes.
He looked at her with a smile that was half-quizzical, half-kindly, and her heart began to beat more freely.
"We must somehow get away from 'The Anchor' to-day," she said. "I have a little money. Perhaps if you would help me to move Bunny, we could go into lodgings again until----"
"I have a little money too," said Jake. "And I will certainly help you. But first,--do you object to telling me what has been happening at 'The Anchor'?"
She coloured again vividly, painfully, but he was fully engrossed with the filling of his pipe and did not notice her embarrassment.
"To begin with," she said with difficulty, "he--Mr. Sheppard--has turned us out of the room downstairs. He carried Bunny off himself to an attic under the roof, and hurt him horribly. I was driven nearly mad at the time." She broke off, shuddering at the remembrance.
Jake frowned. "Go on!" he said briefly.
She went on with increasing difficulty. "That happened yesterday. I hoped you would come round in the afternoon or evening, but you didn't."
"I couldn't get away," he interpolated. "Yes? And then?"
"Then--in the evening--that is, late at night--" Maud stumbled like a nervous child--"I went down to fetch something and he--he came in after me, half-tipsy; and--and--he--" She halted suddenly. "I can't go on!" she said, with quivering lips.
Jake laid aside his pipe and stooped over her. "Did he beat you, or did he make love to you? Which?" he said.
There was a sound in his voice like the growl of an angry beast. She could not look him in the face.
"Tell me!" he said, and laid an imperative hand on her shoulder. "You need never tell anyone else."
She shrank a little. "I don't see why I should tell you," she said reluctantly.
"You must tell me," said Jake with decision.
And, after brief hesitation, miserably, with face averted, she yielded and told him. After all, why should he not know? Her dainty pride was crushed for ever. She could sink no lower.
"He held me down and thrashed me--with his slipper. I was in my night-dress, and--and it was rather a brutal thrashing. Perhaps some women wouldn't have minded it much; but I--I am not used to that kind of treatment. I hope you will never beat me, Jake. I don't bear it very heroically."
She tried to laugh, but it was a piteous little sound that came from her quivering throat.
Jake's hand closed upon her shoulder. She seemed to feel the whole man vibrate behind it like a steel spring. Yet he made no comment whatever. "Go on!" he said, his voice short and stern. "Tell me everything!"
She braced herself to finish. "He went on till he was tired. I believe I was wailing like a baby, but no one heard. And then--and then--he suddenly discovered that I was a woman and not a naughty child, and he--he--kissed me." She shuddered suddenly and violently. "That's nearly all," she ended. "I got away from him, heaven knows how. And I got back to Bunny. I didn't tell him everything, but I couldn't help him knowing I was upset. We neither of us slept all night. And the night before was a bad one too. That's how I came to be so idiotic just now."
She leaned slowly back in her chair till she rested against the hand he had laid upon her.
"Do you know," she said tremulously, after a moment, "I think it has actually done me good to tell you? You are very kind to me, Jake."
He withdrew his hand and turned away. "That may be," he said enigmatically. "And again it may not. Thanks anyway for telling me." He picked up the horsewhip that he had flung down on entering, and began with his square, steady fingers to remove the lash. "You are right. You can't spend another night at 'The Anchor.' If you will allow me, I will find some comfortable rooms where you and Bunny can stay till we can get married. I will go up to-morrow and get a special licence. The marriage might be arranged for Sunday--if that will suit you."
"Next Sunday?" Maud started round and looked at him with startled eyes.
He nodded. "In church. After the eight o'clock service if there is one. Your mother must give you away. Afterwards, we will come on here with the boy." He glanced round at her. "He shall have this room for the daytime, and the one over it to sleep in. I'm sorry there are not two ground-floor rooms for him; but I know how to carry him in comfort. Of course, if necessary this room could be used as a bedroom as well."
He threw down the worn lash and went to a drawer for a new one. Maud still watched him in silence.
"Does that meet with your approval?" he asked at length.
"I think you are--more than good," she said, a tremor of feeling in her voice.
He kept his eyes lowered over his task. "I am not hustling you too much?" he enquired.
She smiled wanly. "I am asking myself if I ought to let you do it," she said. "It doesn't seem very fair to you."
"It chances to be the thing I want," said Jake, his fingers still busy. "And I reckon you won't disappoint me--won't draw back? I can count on you?"
She rose, turning fully towards him. "You can certainly count on me," she said. "But are you really sure you meant it? It isn't going to spoil your life?"
Jake stood upright with a jerk. She met the extraordinary brightness of his eyes with an odd mixture of boldness and reluctance.
"My girl," he said, in his queer, anomalous drawl, "there ain't a man anywhere in God's universe who knows what he wants better than I do. If I didn't want this thing I shouldn't ask for it. See?" He came to her with the words, and laid one finger on her arm. "Don't you know it's your friendship I'm after?" he said, with a touch of aggressiveness. "Why, I've been after it ever since that night I found you down in the dark alone on the edge of the parade. You were up against it that night, weren't you? And didn't like me over much for butting in. Do you know what you made me think of? A forlorn princess of the Middle Ages. There's a mediæval flavour about you. I don't know where you keep it. But it makes me feel mediæval too."
She drew back a little, stiffened ever so slightly. Something in her resented the freedom of his speech. Something rose in swift revolt and clamoured to be gone.
He must have seen her gesture, her quick, protesting blush; for he turned almost instantly and jerked the whip-lash through his fingers, testing it.
A fitful gleam of sunshine suddenly pierced the clouds behind him and shone on his bent head. His hair gleamed like burnished copper. The tawny glint of it made her think of an animal--a beast of prey, alert, merciless, primeval.
She put on her hat. "I must be getting back to Bunny," she said.
"I am coming with you," said Jake.
She looked at him sharply. "You will walk?"
"Yes, I shall walk."
She pointed with nervous abruptness to the whip he held. "Then you won't want that."
Jake smiled, and tested the whip again without speaking.
Maud waited a moment; then steadily she spoke. "You realized of course, that when I told you about Mr. Sheppard's behaviour of last night, it was in strict confidence?"
Jake squared his broad shoulders. "All right, my girl. It's safe with me," he said. "There shan't be any scandal."
Maud was very white, but quite resolute. "Jake," she said, "you are not to do it."
He raised his brows.
"You are not to do it!" she said again, with vehemence. "I mean it! I mean it! The quarrel is not yours. You are not to make it so." She paused, and suddenly caught her breath. "Oh, don't look at me like that! You make me--afraid!"
Jake turned and tossed the whip down on the window-seat. "You've nothing to be afraid of," he said rather curtly. "You're making your own bugbear. P'raps it's natural," he added, with abrupt gentleness. "You've had a lot to bear lately. There! I've done what you asked. We had better get back while it's fine."
He unlocked and opened the door, standing back for her to pass.
He kept his eyes downcast as she went through, and she knew that it was in response to her appeal that he did so. She tingled with a burning embarrassment, which vanished all in a moment as he said: "Say, now, do you mind if I light my pipe before I follow you? Don't wait! I'll catch you up."
And she made her way out into the fleeting sunlight and racing wind with a strong sense of relief. The pipe was not a particularly aristocratic feature of Jake's existence, but it was an extremely characteristic one, and it placed matters on a normal footing at once. Jake was never disconcerting or formidable when he was smoking a pipe. She consented to it gladly.
And Jake turned back into the room with a grim smile on his lips, picked up a letter from the table, and thrust it deep into the fire.
After that he lighted his pipe with the charred remnants thereof, and followed Maud into the open.