CHAPTER XIVTHE WAY OF ESCAPEThe sun shone out again as they went down the hill, and the sea gleamed below them like a sheet of silver."You like this place?" asked Jake."I could like it," she made answer.He smiled. "Then I reckon you shall. Say, does Bunny know about your coming up here to me?"She coloured deeply. "He knew I came, yes. He did not know why."Jake was still smiling. "Guess he'll be pleased," he said. He added, between puffs at his pipe: "We'll make him happy between us. We'll give him the time of his life."She drew a deep breath. Surely no sacrifice was too great for that!They passed the church on the hill, and descended the steep road to the town."There are some rooms I know of along this road," said Jake. "Kept by the wife of one of our stable-men. Shall we go in and have a look at 'em?"She hesitated. "Bunny will wonder where I am."He glanced at her. "Well, look here! You leave me to see to it. I'll fix up something, and then I'll come on after you and we'll get the boy away."She met his look somewhat doubtfully."Why not?" said Jake.She answered him with an effort. "You do understand, don't you, that I couldn't--I can't--accept help from you before--before--our marriage?""Why not?" he said again. "Reckon you mean to stick to your bargain?""Oh, it isn't that," she said painfully. "Of course--of course--I shall keep my word with you. But I have a little pride left--just a little--and----""And I'm to humour it, eh?" said Jake. "Well, you shall have it your own way. But let me do the fixing for you! I know just what you want. It's only for a few days either."He smiled at her, and she yielded.But when they separated at length she paused uneasily. "Jake!""Your servant!" said Jake promptly.She stretched a nervous hand towards him. "Jake, if you meet--my step-father, you will not--not----""Most unfortunately I can't," said Jake. He held her hand for a moment, and let it go. "There! Good-bye! I won't do anything indiscreet, I promise you. There is too much at stake. Now you get back to Bunny as quick as you can! I shan't be long after you."And Maud went with a feeling at the heart of relief and dread oddly mingled. She knew that Jake would keep his word. There was a rocklike strength about him that nothing could ever shake. For good or ill, he would stick to a bargain, be the price what it might. But she saw him overriding every obstacle to attain his purpose. He would never flinch from possible consequences; of that she was certain. What he had said he would do, that he would do, and no power on earth would divert him therefrom.She shivered suddenly and violently as she walked. The relentless force of the man had in it an element that was terrible. What had she done? What had she done?She encountered her mother as she mounted the hotel stairs."Oh, my dear, here you are at last!" was her greeting. "I have been so worried about you. Come into my room!"But Maud resisted her. "I must go to Bunny. He has been alone for so long.""No, dear, no! Bunny's all right for the present. I've been to see. He doesn't want anything. He told me so. Come into my room--just for a moment, dear child! We can't talk in the passage."As Mrs. Sheppard was plainly bent upon talking, Maud concluded she had something to say; and followed her."Shut the door, my darling! That's right. How white you look this morning! Dearie, I am more sorry than I can say for what happened last night. Giles told me about it. But he says he is quite willing now to let bygones be bygones. So you won't bear malice, darling; will you? Of course I know he ought not to have done it," with a slightly uneasy glance at her daughter's rigid face. "I told him so. But he assured me he only did it for your good, dear. And he seems to think that you were rather rude to him earlier in the day. He is old-fashioned, you know. He thinks a whipping clears the air, so to speak. It's better anyhow than saving up grievance after grievance, isn't it, dear? You'll start afresh now, and be much better friends. At least it won't be his fault if you're not. He is quite ready to treat you as his own daughter."She paused for breath.Maud was standing stiff and cold against the door. "Is that what you called me in here to say?" she asked.Mrs. Sheppard still looked uneasy though she tried to laugh it off. "Not quite all, dear. But I really should go and make friends with him if I were you. He isn't a bit angry with you any more. In fact he has been joking about it, says his arm is so stiff this morning he can hardly use it. You couldn't possibly keep it up if you heard him.""I shall not hear him," said Maud.White and proud she faced her mother, and the latter's half-forced merriment died away."Child, don't look so tragic! What is it? Come, he didn't hurt you so badly surely! Can't you forgive and forget?""No," Maud said. "I shall never do either. I am going away with Bunny to-day. And I hope--with all my heart--that I shall never see his face again.""Going away?" Mrs. Sheppard opened startled eyes. "But, Maud----""I am going to marry Jake Bolton," Maud said, her voice very deep and quiet. "He will take me and Bunny too.""Oh, my dear. That man!" Her mother gazed at her in consternation. "He--he is infinitely rougher than Giles," she said."I know he is rough. But he cares for Bunny. That matters most," said Maud. "In fact, I believe he likes Bunny best!""My dear, it's you he wants--not Bunny," said Mrs. Sheppard, with a rare flash of insight. "I saw that at the very beginning of things--at our wedding-party. He looked at you as if he could devour you."Maud put out a quick hand of protest. "Mother, please! That doesn't prove he cares about me--any more than I care for him. It--it's just the way with men of his sort. He--he has been very kind, and he is genuinely fond of Bunny, and--and--in fact it's the only thing to be done. I can't--possibly--stay here any longer."Her lip quivered unexpectedly. She turned to go. But her mother intercepted her quickly, endearingly."Maud, darling, wait a minute! I haven't finished. You took my breath away. But listen a moment! This sacrifice won't be necessary, I am sure, I am sure. You couldn't marry that horsey creature. You would never bear life with him. You are not adaptable enough nor experienced enough. You could never endure it. It would be infinitely worse than poor Giles and his tantrums. No, but listen, dear! If you really feel you must go, I think a way of escape is going to be offered to you and poor little Bunny too. I have had a letter from your Uncle Edward, and he is coming expressly to see you both.""Mother!" Maud almost tore herself free, gazing at her with that in her eyes that was to haunt Mrs. Sheppard for many days. "Oh, why, why, why didn't you tell me before? When did the letter come?""It was last night, darling. You were such a long way off--right at the top of the house--and I was too tired to go after you--I meant to tell you first thing, dear; but when I went to look for you after breakfast, you had gone. I am very sorry, but really it wasn't my fault. Still, you won't want to marry that vulgar person now, for I am sure your uncle means to make provision for you. He can well afford it. He is very wealthy."But Maud resolutely put her mother's clinging arms away from her. "Jake is not vulgar," she said in a voice that sounded flat and tired. "And I have promised to marry him. Nothing can make any difference to that now.""My dear! What nonsense! I will get Giles to talk to him. How can you dream of such a thing, you who might have married Lord Saltash--and may yet! There is no knowing. Maud, dearest, you must be reasonable. You must indeed. This Jake Bolton may be a very excellent man, a very worthy man, but as a husband for you he would be utterly unsuitable. Surely you can see that for yourself! I can't imagine what possessed you to entertain such an idea for a moment. It was rank presumption on his part to dare to lift his eyes to you. Why, my dear, if you were to marry him your life would be an absolute thraldom. You mustn't think of it, dear child. You mustn't indeed. Why, he is not much better than a stable-boy. And his speech----""He has spent a good deal of his time among cowboys." Maud was still firmly trying to disengage herself. "His speech is more or less acquired. In any case--in any case--I have given him my promise. And you had better not let Mr. Sheppard interfere. It would be wise of him to keep out of Jake's way in fact. Jake knows exactly why I am prepared to marry him.""My dear! You actually made a confidant of that dreadful person! How could you?""I wanted a man to protect me," Maud said very bitterly, "from the vindictive savagery of a brute!""Maud! How can you talk so? And I am sure Jake Bolton is much more of a brute than poor Giles. Why, look at the man! Look at his mouth, his eyes! They absolutely stamp him. Oh, dear, you're very headstrong and difficult. I begin to think Giles had some excuse after all. Perhaps your uncle will be able to manage you. You are quite beyond me."Maud almost laughed. "When does he arrive?" she asked."This evening. He has asked us to reserve a room for him." Mrs. Sheppard had speedily developed a proprietary interest in the management of the hotel. Its welfare had become far more engrossing than that of her children.Maud opened the door. "We shall be gone by that time. Jake's finding us rooms somewhere in the town."Mrs. Sheppard held up her hands. "Jake finding rooms! Maud! how--scandalous! How do you know--you don't know!--that he is to be trusted?"Maud made a brief gesture as of one who submits to the inevitable. "I trust him," she said, with that in her voice that stilled all further protest.And with the words she passed with finality out of her mother's room, and went away upstairs without a backward glance.Mrs. Sheppard sat down and shed a few petulant tears over her child's waywardness. "She never would listen to advice," was the burden of her lament. "If she had, she would have been happily married to Lord Saltash by now, and I might have had my house in London to-day. Oh dear, oh dear! Children are a bitter disappointment. They never can be made to see what is for their own good. She'll rue the day. I know she will. That trainer man has a will of iron. He'll break her to it like one of his horses. My poor, proud Maud!"CHAPTER XVTHE CLOSED DOORA way of escape! A way of escape! How often during the hours of that endless day were those words in Maud's mind. They pursued her, they mocked her, whichever way she turned.To Jake she merely very briefly imparted the news of her uncle's expected advent, and he received it without comment.Bunny was much more speculative. He had been somewhat carried out of himself by the trend of events. It was Jake who whispered to him the amazing information of his sudden conquest, together with a very strenuous injunction not to talk to Maud about it unless she started the subject. And Maud, for some reason, could not start it. She went through all the necessary arrangements for their removal as one in a dream, scarcely speaking at all, responding very occasionally to Bunny's eager surmises respecting the unknown great-uncle who had never before taken the faintest interest in them, or shown himself so much as aware of their existence. His coming did not seem to matter to her. If indeed he were about to offer her a way of escape, it could not matter to her now. The door that led thither had closed, closed in the night, because her mother had been too tired to seek her out and tell her. The irony of it! The bitter cruel irony! She dared not pause to think.Jake spent a great part of the day with them, working with a will to get them comfortably settled in their new quarters before the fall of the early dusk. After that, he remained to tea; but he devoted almost the whole of his attention to Bunny, who had in fact come to regard it as his right.He left soon after, refusing to remain for the game of chess for which the lad earnestly pleaded."Not to-night, my son! Your brain has got to settle down. It's a deal too lively at present."He bent over Bunny at parting, and whispered a few words that were inaudible to Maud. Then he turned to go.She followed him to the outer door. The evening air smote chill and salt upon her, and she shivered involuntarily. Jake stopped to light a cigarette."I shan't be coming round to-morrow," he remarked then. "I shall be too busy. But I'll look in on Saturday, and tell you what I've fixed up. Will Sunday morning do all right if I can fix it?"She shivered again. "Yes," she said."Say, you're cold," said Jake gently. "I mustn't keep you standing here. But you really meant that Yes?"He looked at her, and she saw that his eyes were kindly. She held out her hand with a desperate little smile."Yes, I meant it."His hand closed strongly, sustainingly, upon hers. "Guess there's nothing to be scared of," he said. "I'll take care of you, sure."She felt a sudden lump rise in her throat, and found she could not speak."You're tired," said Jake softly. "Go and get a good night! It's what you're wanting.""Yes, I am tired," she managed to say.He still held her hand, looking at her with those strange, glittering eyes of his that seemed to pierce straight through all reserve and enter even the hidden inner sanctuary of her soul."What's this relative of yours like now?" he asked unexpectedly.She shook her head. "I don't know. I've never seen him.""Think he's coming along to offer you a home?" asked Jake.Her face burned suddenly and hotly. For some reason she resented the question. "I don't know. How can I possibly know?""All right," said Jake imperturbably. "But in case he does, I'd like you to know that you are at liberty to do as you please in the matter. He'll tell you, maybe, that I'm not the man for you. That, I gather, is your mother's attitude. I sensed it from the beginning. If he does, and if you feel inclined to agree with him, you're free to do so,--free as air. But at the same time, I'd like you to remember that if you should accept anything from him and then not find it to your liking, you can still come along to me and follow out the original programme. I'm only wanting to make you comfortable."He stopped; and in the pause that followed, Maud's other hand came out to him, shyly yet impulsively. "You are--such a good fellow!" she said with a catch in her voice."Oh, bunkum!" said Jake, in a tone of almost indignant remonstrance.He held her two hands, and turning, spat forth his cigarette into the night; an action of primitive simplicity that filled Maud with a grotesque kind of horrified mirth, mirth so intense that she had a sudden, hysterical desire to laugh. She restrained herself with a desperate effort."Good night!" she said, with something of urgency in her voice. "It isn't bunkum at all. It's the truth. You--I think you are the best friend I ever had. But--but----""But--" said Jake.She freed her hands with a little gasp. "Nothing," she said. "Good night!"It was a final dismissal, and as such he accepted it. She heard the steady fall of his feet as he went away, and with his going she managed to recover her composure.There was an undeniable greatness about him that seemed to dwarf all criticism. She realized that to measure him by ordinary standards was out of the question, and as she reviewed all that he had done for her that day a gradual warmth began to glow in her. There was no other friend in all her world who would have extended to her so firm or so comforting a support in her hour of adversity. And if her face burned at the memory of her own utter collapse in his presence, she could but recall with gratitude and with confidence the steadfast kindness with which he had upheld her. She had gone to him in anguished despair, and he had offered her the utmost that he had to offer. As to his motives for so doing, she had a feeling that he had deliberately refrained from expressing them. He wanted her and he wanted Bunny. Perhaps he was lonely. Perhaps years of wandering had created in him a longing for home and domestic comfort.But she did not speculate very deeply upon that subject. She felt that she could not. There was something in the man's nature, something colossal of which she was but dimly aware, and which she had no means of gauging, that checked her almost at the outset. She found herself standing before a closed door, a door which she had neither the audacity nor the desire to attempt to open. She was even a little fearful lest one day that door should open to her of its own accord and she should be constrained to enter whether she would or not.But on the whole that talk with Jake had calmed her. The man was so temperate, so completely master of himself, and withal so staunch in the friendship he had established with her, that she could not but feel reassured. There was a delicacy in his consideration for her that warmed her heart. She knew by every instinct of her being that he would take care of her as he had promised. And she wanted someone to take care of her so badly, so badly.She was so deadly tired of fending for herself.She found Bunny in a mood of remarkable docility, and she managed to get him to bed without much trouble. He also was worn out after two nights of restlessness, and he fell asleep earlier than usual.She herself sat for awhile in the little sitting-room with a book, but she found she could not read. She was too tired to fix her attention, and the thought of Jake kept intruding itself whenever she attempted to do so. It was wonderful how she had come to rely upon him, knowing so little of him. He had always been far more to Bunny than to her.She was drifting into a kind of semi-doze, still with the memory of him passing and repassing through her brain, when there came the sound of a bell in the house, and almost immediately after, the opening of the sitting-room door.She started up in surprise to see her landlady usher in a little, spare grey-whiskered man who walked with a strut and cleared his throat as he came with a noise like the growling of a dog. He made her think irresistibly of a Scotch terrier bristling for a fight.He halted in the middle of the room, and banged with his umbrella on the floor, as one demanding a hearing."Hullo!" he said. "My name's Warren. You, I take it, are Maud Brian. If so, I'm your Uncle Edward."Maud came forward, still feeling a little dazed. Since Jake's departure she had almost forgotten the approaching advent of this relative of hers."How do you do?" she said. "Yes, I am Maud Brian. Come and sit down!"He took her hand, looking at her with small grey eyes that were keenly critical."How old are you?" he demanded."I am twenty-five," said Maud, faintly smiling.He uttered a grunting growl and sat down with a jerk. "I've come straight from your mother to talk to you. She's a fool, always was. I hope you're not another.""Thank you," said Maud sedately.He brought his shaggy grey brows together. "I've come the length of England to see you, but I haven't any time to waste. I'm going back to-morrow. That letter of yours--I meant to answer it, but business pressed, and it had to stand over. Then I decided to come and see what sort of young woman you were before I did anything further. I couldn't stand a replica of your mother in my house. But--thank goodness--you're not much like her. She tells me you're thinking of making a marriage of convenience to get away from your step-father. Now, that's a very serious step for a young woman to contemplate. It seems to me I've turned up in the nick of time."Maud, sitting facing him with her hands folded in her lap, still faintly smiled. The bluntness with which he tackled the situation appealed more to her sense of humour than to any other emotion. She realized that he was actually about to offer her a way of escape, but, curiously, she no longer felt any desire to avail herself of it. By his generous assurance that she was at liberty to do as she would, Jake had somehow managed to range her on his side. She did not want to escape any more. Moreover, there was Bunny to be thought of. She knew well in what direction his desires--and his welfare also--lay."It was very kind of you to come," she said. "But, as regards my marriage, my mind is quite made up. He--the man I am going to marry--understands everything. I have been quite open with him. He has been most kind, most generous. I could not think of drawing back now.""Pshaw!" said Mr. Warren. He sat forward in his chair, his hands gripping the knob of his umbrella and surveyed her with growing disapproval. "You're prepared to sell yourself to a man you don't love in return for a home, hey?" he asked.She winced sharply, and in a moment her tired young face was flooded with colour. "Certainly not!" she said, her voice very low. "Most certainly not!""Looks uncommonly like it," he maintained."It is not so!" she said, with low-toned vehemence. "I have told you--he--understands.""And is prepared to give all and receive nothing for his pains?" pursued the old man relentlessly. "If so, he's a very remarkable young man; and let me tell you for your comfort, it's an attitude he won't keep up for long, not--that is--unless he's a blithering idiot? Is he an idiot?"Maud almost laughed. "No, that he is not! But really--really--you are wasting your time. If you had come this time yesterday, I would have listened to you. To-night it is impossible.""Why impossible?""Because I have promised.""Tut! tut! He must release you.""He would release me," Maud said slowly. "That is just it.""Just what? Talk sense if you can!" It was evident that patience was not Uncle Edward's strong point. He fidgeted his umbrella testily.She looked at him with her clear, straight eyes. "That is just why I will not ask for my release. In fact, I--don't want it.""Don't want it! Then, young woman, you're in love with him. I've come on a fool's errand, and I'll wish you good night."He was on his feet with the words. Maud rose too. She laid a hand of half-timid restraint upon his arm."I am not--in love with him, Uncle Edward," she said, her voice not wholly steady. "Such a thing would be impossible. But at the same time--though I can't give him everything--he shall not repent his bargain. We are going to be--friends.""Pshaw!" said Uncle Edward again. He gripped her hand unexpectedly, staring up at her with his keen eyes. "Do you know how old I am?" he said.She shook her head."I'm eighty," he said. "I've seen a little of men in my time, and I've been a man myself. So let me tell you this! There's not a man on this earth who could be satisfied for long with that kind of farce. You've got him on the leash now. He's tame and good. But there's a ravening wolf inside us all, my dear, when we're thwarted, and the longer we're thwarted the more savage we get. You can't bring up a wolf--not the tamest wolf in the world--on bread and butter. Sooner or later he'll begin to feel a bit empty, and whine for the real thing. And if you still go on starving the brute till he's famished, he'll either break away and go elsewhere for food, or else he'll round on you one day and tear you in pieces. You'll be the sufferer either way. It's nature I tell you, it's nature. You'll have to give all or drive him away at the outset. There can't be half-measures with a man who is a man. If you offer them you must expect trouble. And remember, it's always the woman who pays in the end,--always the woman who pays."He repeated the words with the impressiveness of a judge pronouncing sentence.Maud was trembling, though she tried to conceal the fact. "And then there is Bunny to be thought of," she said."Bunny? Who is Bunny? Oh, your brother, is it? And he's a hopeless cripple, I understand? Is it for his sake that you've hatched this mad scheme?""In a great measure. You see, he and--and Jake Bolton are very fond of one another.""Pshaw!" the old man exclaimed. "So this Jake Bolton is to have the boy, with you thrown in as a makeweight; is that it? And you think you're all going to be happy together, do you? Never heard such a tomfool scheme in my life. Where does this Jake Bolton hang out? I'll go and have a talk to him.""Oh, please don't!" Maud begged. "He'll think I sent you. And really--really there is nothing to discuss.""We'll see about that," he rejoined grimly. "Seems to me it's high time somebody came along and interfered. Now, look here, what's your name?--Maud! I'm going to get you out of this mess. You shan't marry a man you don't love just because there was no other way out. There is another way out, and you're to take it. You're to come and live with me, do you hear? You and your precious Bunny too! And when I die, I'll leave you both provided for. See? Come, I can't say fairer than that."He was still gripping her hand, and looking at her with shrewd eyes under their beetling brows as though prepared to beat down all opposition. There was a look of Bunny about those eyes, Bunny in a difficult mood. She recognized it with a sigh. It seemed her fate to be continually doing battle with someone, and she felt wholly unfitted for it. All she asked of life was peace and quietness."My home is a dingy one," said her uncle, "but you may be able to make it more cheerful. I shan't interfere with either of you. Come, now, you're going to be a sensible girl, hey? I'm sorry I didn't turn up before. But the knot isn't tied, so I'm not too late. We must explain the situation to the young man. Unless he's an absolute bounder, he'll be amenable to reason."But Maud shook her head. "I can't do it, Uncle Edward. I know you mean to be kind. I am very grateful. But--I can't."He rasped his throat aggressively. "That's nonsense," he said with decision. "Plainly the man is beneath you. You say you don't love him, and never could.""I am not--altogether--sure that he is beneath me," she said rather wistfully."But you don't love him?" her uncle insisted, scanning her piercingly.She bent her head with an instinctive desire to avoid his eyes. "No.""Or anyone else?" he pursued.She made a small movement of protest."Ha!" he exclaimed, in the tone of one who has discovered something. "Your mother hinted as much. And you think you're going to make things better for yourself by marriage with a rank outsider. Is that it? Is that it? Then take my word for it, you're going to make the biggest mistake of your life. And if you persist in it, I've done with you. At least, no, I haven't done; for I'm going straight to that young man of yours to tell him the sort of bargain he's going to make."He paused, for suddenly Maud had drawn herself up very straight and proud. "If you wish to do so, you must," she said, and her pale face was very regal and composed. "But it will not make the smallest difference to either of us. Jake has my promise. I have his."It was at this point that the door opened again to admit the landlady with a note on a salver."Mr. Bolton's compliments," she said, "and will you be good enough to send back an answer?"CHAPTER XVITHE CHAMPIONMaud took the note with a glance at her uncle."Open it!" he said. "Don't mind me!" and stumped irately to the bay-window and pulled aside the blind.Maud opened the note. Her hands were not very steady. The envelope contained a half-sheet of notepaper with a few words scrawled thereupon, and a short length of string."Sorry to trouble you," ran the note. "But will you tie a knot in the enclosed to show me the size of your wedding finger? Yours, Jake."She looked up from the note as her uncle came tramping back. "Is it the young man himself?" he demanded."It's Mr. Bolton, sir," said the landlady."Then show him in!" ordered the old man autocratically. "Show him in, and we'll get it over! No time like the present."A swift remonstrance rose to Maud's lips, but she did not utter it. The landlady looked to her for confirmation of the order, but she did not utter a single word."Get along!" commanded Uncle Edward. "Or I'll fetch him in myself!"A whiff of tobacco-smoke came in through the open door. Maud stood very still, listening. A moment later there came the sound of a pipe being tapped on the heel of a boot, and then the firm, quiet tread of Jake's feet in the passage.He entered. "I didn't mean to disturb you again, but I'd forgotten this little detail and I've got to catch an early train." He turned with no sign of surprise and regarded Maud's visitor. "Good evening, sir!" he said.Mr. Warren gave him a brief nod. Maud still stood mute, Jake's note with the piece of string dangling therefrom in her hand.He went quietly to her. "Say! Let me fix that for you!" he said.She suffered him to take her hand. It lay cold and quivering in his. He wound the string round her third finger and knotted it. Then he slipped it off, and took the hand closely and warmly into his own."I hope you haven't come to forbid the banns," he said, calmly returning the grim scrutiny that the old man had levelled at him from the moment of his entrance.Uncle Edward uttered a sound indicative of intense disgust. "I? Oh, I've no authority," he said. "I disapprove--if that's what you mean. Any decent person would disapprove of the sort of alliance you two are determined to make. But I don't expect my opinion to be deferred to. If you choose to marry a woman who doesn't care two straws about you, it's your affair, not mine."Jake turned in his deliberate fashion to Maud. "Your uncle, I presume?" he said."Yes," she made answer.His face wore a smile that baffled her, as he said: "It's my opinion that we should get on better alone together, though it's for you to decide."She looked at him rather piteously, and as if in answer to that look Jake slipped a steady arm about her."What about the head of the family?" he said, speaking softly almost as if to a child. "Reckon he'll be wanting you. Won't you go to him?"The slight pressure of his arm directed her towards the door. She yielded to it instinctively, with an abrupt feeling that the matter had been taken out of her hands.He went with her into the passage, and they stood for a moment together under the flickering lamp."Bunny in bed?" he asked."Yes," she said.He was still faintly smiling. "You go to bed too, my girl!" he said. "I'll settle this old firebrand.""Don't--quarrel with him, Jake!" she said nervously."What should I quarrel about?" said Jake. "Good night, forlorn princess!"His voice had a note in it that was almost motherly. She went, from him with a distinct sense of comfort. His touch had been so strong and withal so gentle.As for Jake, he turned back into the room with the utmost confidence and shut himself in with an air of decision."Now, sir," he said, "if you've any complaint to make, p'raps you'll be good enough to mention it to me right now, and I'll deal with the same. I'm not going to have my girl bullied any more."His voice was quiet, even slightly drawling, but his eyes shone with something of a glare. He came straight to the old man, who still leaned on his umbrella, and stood before him.The latter gazed at him ferociously, and for a space they remained thus, stubbornly fixing each other. Then abruptly the old man spoke."You're very masterful, young fellow-my-lad. I suppose you think yourself one of the lords of creation, good enough for anybody, hey?"Jake's stern face relaxed slowly. "I don't claim to be a prince of the blood," he said, "but I reckon I've got some--points.""And you reckon you're good enough to marry my niece?" snapped Uncle Edward.Jake squared his shoulders. "I shall make her a better husband than some," he said.The old man smote the floor with his umbrella. "Shall you? And has she told you that she's in love with another man?"Jake's right hand went suddenly deep into his pocket and remained there. "I am aware that she was once," he said, speaking very deliberately. "But that is over. Also, he was not the man for her.""A scoundrel, hey? Not a sound man like yourself?" There was a malicious note in the query, but Jake ignored it."He does not count anyway," he said, with finality. "If he did, your niece wouldn't have come to me for protection. I believe she appealed to you first, but you had more important things to attend to. With me it was otherwise, and so I consider that I have a greater right to be her protector than anyone else in the world.""Do you?" said Uncle Edward. "That means you're in love with her, I suppose?"Jake's eyes fenced with his. "You may take it to mean that if it pleases you to do so," he said.The old man raked his throat pugnaciously. "It's damn' presumption. I tell you that," he said."That may be," said Jake, unmoved."But it doesn't alter your intentions, hey? You're one of the cussed sort, I can see. Well, look here, young man! I'll make you a proposal. You seem to think I've neglected my duty, though heaven knows these Brians have no claims on me. But I've taken a fancy to the girl. She's gentle, which is more than can be said for most of your modern young women. So you just listen to me for a minute! You're on a wrong tack altogether. Courting should come before marriage, not after. You may marry first and you may think for a time that all is going to be well between you, but there'll come a day when you'll wake up and find that in spite of all you haven't won her. And that'll mean misery for you both. Don't you do it, young man! You'll find the game's not worth the candle. You have a little patience! Let the girl come to me for a bit! I may be old, but I'll protect her. And if you care to come after her, and do a little courting now and then, well--it's not a very brilliant match for her, but I shan't forbid it."He ceased to speak. There seemed to be a smile in the eyes that watched him, but there was no suggestion of it about Jake's mouth, which was slightly compressed."That's all very well, sir," he said in his slow quiet way. "But have you laid this proposal of yours before Miss Brian herself?"Uncle Edward made a sound of impatience. "She can think of no one but her brother. She'll agree fast enough when she realizes that it's the only thing to do.""Will she?" said Jake. "And have you put it to her in that light?"The old man coughed and made no reply.Jake went on with the utmost composure. "You offer her a home where she can continue to be a slave to her brother. You don't propose to lift the burden at all, to ease her life, to make her happy. You wouldn't know where to begin. You are ready and anxious to deliver her from me. But there your goodness starts and finishes. You talk of my damnable presumption." A ruddy glitter like the flicker of a flame dispelled the hint of humour from the lynx-like eyes. "That is just your point of view. But I reckon I'm nearer to her--several lengths nearer--than you or any other man. She hasn't brought all her troubles to you and cried her heart out in your arms, has she? No,--nor ever will--now! You've come too late, sir,--too late by just twelve hours! You may keep your money and your home to yourself! The girl is mine."A deep note suddenly sounded in the man's voice, and Uncle Edward was abruptly made aware of a lion in his path.He backed at once. He had not the smallest desire for an encounter with the savage beast."Tut, tut!" he said. "You talk like a Red Indian. I wasn't proposing to deprive you of her; only to give the girl a free hand and you the chance of winning her. If you take her without, there'll be the devil to pay sooner or later; I can tell you that. But, if you won't take the chance I offer, that's your affair entirely. I have no more to say.""I am taking a different sort of chance," Jake said. "And I have a suspicion that it's less of a gamble than the one you suggest. In any case, I've put my money on it, and there it'll stay."He looked Uncle Edward straight in the eyes a moment, and then broke into his sudden, disarming smile."Can't you stop over the week-end now and give her away?" he asked persuasively. "Her mother seems to shy at the notion.""Her mother always was a fool," said Uncle Edward irascibly. Here at least was a safe object upon which to vent his indignation! "The biggest fool that ever lived! What on earth men found to like in her I never could understand. Oh yes, I'll give the girl away. If you're so set on getting married at once, I'd better stop and see that it's done properly. Lucy never did anything properly in her life.""Thank you," said Jake. "You are most kind--and considerate.""Mark you, that doesn't mean that I approve," warned the old man. "It's a hare-brained scheme altogether, but I suppose I owe it to my family to see that it's done on the square."Jake had suddenly become extremely suave. "That is very benevolent of you, sir," he said."I regard it as my duty," said Uncle Edward gruffly.He had never been called benevolent before, and the term was not altogether to his liking. It seemed safer to accept it, however, without question. There was an unknown element about this young man that was in some fashion formidable. An odd respect mingled with his first contempt. The fellow might be a bounder,--he was not absolutely decided upon that head--but, as he himself had modestly stated, he had some points. By marrying him, his young niece was about to commit a very rash act, but it was possible--just possible--that it might not lead to utter disaster. It was not a marriage of which he could approve, but the man seemed solid, and certainly he himself had no urgent desire to take in the girl and her cripple brother. Altogether, though he did not like to think that his advice had been ignored, and though at the back of his mind there lurked a vague uneasiness not unmixed with self-reproach, it seemed that matters might have been considerably worse."Don't you tyrannize over her now!" he said to Jake at parting. "You've got a fighting face, young fellow-my-lad. But you bear in mind, she's a woman, and--unless I am much mistaken--she is not the sort to stand it.""I don't fight with women, sir," said Jake somewhat curtly. "I've other things to do."Uncle Edward smiled a dry smile. "And you've a few things to learn--yet," he remarked enigmatically.
CHAPTER XIV
THE WAY OF ESCAPE
The sun shone out again as they went down the hill, and the sea gleamed below them like a sheet of silver.
"You like this place?" asked Jake.
"I could like it," she made answer.
He smiled. "Then I reckon you shall. Say, does Bunny know about your coming up here to me?"
She coloured deeply. "He knew I came, yes. He did not know why."
Jake was still smiling. "Guess he'll be pleased," he said. He added, between puffs at his pipe: "We'll make him happy between us. We'll give him the time of his life."
She drew a deep breath. Surely no sacrifice was too great for that!
They passed the church on the hill, and descended the steep road to the town.
"There are some rooms I know of along this road," said Jake. "Kept by the wife of one of our stable-men. Shall we go in and have a look at 'em?"
She hesitated. "Bunny will wonder where I am."
He glanced at her. "Well, look here! You leave me to see to it. I'll fix up something, and then I'll come on after you and we'll get the boy away."
She met his look somewhat doubtfully.
"Why not?" said Jake.
She answered him with an effort. "You do understand, don't you, that I couldn't--I can't--accept help from you before--before--our marriage?"
"Why not?" he said again. "Reckon you mean to stick to your bargain?"
"Oh, it isn't that," she said painfully. "Of course--of course--I shall keep my word with you. But I have a little pride left--just a little--and----"
"And I'm to humour it, eh?" said Jake. "Well, you shall have it your own way. But let me do the fixing for you! I know just what you want. It's only for a few days either."
He smiled at her, and she yielded.
But when they separated at length she paused uneasily. "Jake!"
"Your servant!" said Jake promptly.
She stretched a nervous hand towards him. "Jake, if you meet--my step-father, you will not--not----"
"Most unfortunately I can't," said Jake. He held her hand for a moment, and let it go. "There! Good-bye! I won't do anything indiscreet, I promise you. There is too much at stake. Now you get back to Bunny as quick as you can! I shan't be long after you."
And Maud went with a feeling at the heart of relief and dread oddly mingled. She knew that Jake would keep his word. There was a rocklike strength about him that nothing could ever shake. For good or ill, he would stick to a bargain, be the price what it might. But she saw him overriding every obstacle to attain his purpose. He would never flinch from possible consequences; of that she was certain. What he had said he would do, that he would do, and no power on earth would divert him therefrom.
She shivered suddenly and violently as she walked. The relentless force of the man had in it an element that was terrible. What had she done? What had she done?
She encountered her mother as she mounted the hotel stairs.
"Oh, my dear, here you are at last!" was her greeting. "I have been so worried about you. Come into my room!"
But Maud resisted her. "I must go to Bunny. He has been alone for so long."
"No, dear, no! Bunny's all right for the present. I've been to see. He doesn't want anything. He told me so. Come into my room--just for a moment, dear child! We can't talk in the passage."
As Mrs. Sheppard was plainly bent upon talking, Maud concluded she had something to say; and followed her.
"Shut the door, my darling! That's right. How white you look this morning! Dearie, I am more sorry than I can say for what happened last night. Giles told me about it. But he says he is quite willing now to let bygones be bygones. So you won't bear malice, darling; will you? Of course I know he ought not to have done it," with a slightly uneasy glance at her daughter's rigid face. "I told him so. But he assured me he only did it for your good, dear. And he seems to think that you were rather rude to him earlier in the day. He is old-fashioned, you know. He thinks a whipping clears the air, so to speak. It's better anyhow than saving up grievance after grievance, isn't it, dear? You'll start afresh now, and be much better friends. At least it won't be his fault if you're not. He is quite ready to treat you as his own daughter."
She paused for breath.
Maud was standing stiff and cold against the door. "Is that what you called me in here to say?" she asked.
Mrs. Sheppard still looked uneasy though she tried to laugh it off. "Not quite all, dear. But I really should go and make friends with him if I were you. He isn't a bit angry with you any more. In fact he has been joking about it, says his arm is so stiff this morning he can hardly use it. You couldn't possibly keep it up if you heard him."
"I shall not hear him," said Maud.
White and proud she faced her mother, and the latter's half-forced merriment died away.
"Child, don't look so tragic! What is it? Come, he didn't hurt you so badly surely! Can't you forgive and forget?"
"No," Maud said. "I shall never do either. I am going away with Bunny to-day. And I hope--with all my heart--that I shall never see his face again."
"Going away?" Mrs. Sheppard opened startled eyes. "But, Maud----"
"I am going to marry Jake Bolton," Maud said, her voice very deep and quiet. "He will take me and Bunny too."
"Oh, my dear. That man!" Her mother gazed at her in consternation. "He--he is infinitely rougher than Giles," she said.
"I know he is rough. But he cares for Bunny. That matters most," said Maud. "In fact, I believe he likes Bunny best!"
"My dear, it's you he wants--not Bunny," said Mrs. Sheppard, with a rare flash of insight. "I saw that at the very beginning of things--at our wedding-party. He looked at you as if he could devour you."
Maud put out a quick hand of protest. "Mother, please! That doesn't prove he cares about me--any more than I care for him. It--it's just the way with men of his sort. He--he has been very kind, and he is genuinely fond of Bunny, and--and--in fact it's the only thing to be done. I can't--possibly--stay here any longer."
Her lip quivered unexpectedly. She turned to go. But her mother intercepted her quickly, endearingly.
"Maud, darling, wait a minute! I haven't finished. You took my breath away. But listen a moment! This sacrifice won't be necessary, I am sure, I am sure. You couldn't marry that horsey creature. You would never bear life with him. You are not adaptable enough nor experienced enough. You could never endure it. It would be infinitely worse than poor Giles and his tantrums. No, but listen, dear! If you really feel you must go, I think a way of escape is going to be offered to you and poor little Bunny too. I have had a letter from your Uncle Edward, and he is coming expressly to see you both."
"Mother!" Maud almost tore herself free, gazing at her with that in her eyes that was to haunt Mrs. Sheppard for many days. "Oh, why, why, why didn't you tell me before? When did the letter come?"
"It was last night, darling. You were such a long way off--right at the top of the house--and I was too tired to go after you--I meant to tell you first thing, dear; but when I went to look for you after breakfast, you had gone. I am very sorry, but really it wasn't my fault. Still, you won't want to marry that vulgar person now, for I am sure your uncle means to make provision for you. He can well afford it. He is very wealthy."
But Maud resolutely put her mother's clinging arms away from her. "Jake is not vulgar," she said in a voice that sounded flat and tired. "And I have promised to marry him. Nothing can make any difference to that now."
"My dear! What nonsense! I will get Giles to talk to him. How can you dream of such a thing, you who might have married Lord Saltash--and may yet! There is no knowing. Maud, dearest, you must be reasonable. You must indeed. This Jake Bolton may be a very excellent man, a very worthy man, but as a husband for you he would be utterly unsuitable. Surely you can see that for yourself! I can't imagine what possessed you to entertain such an idea for a moment. It was rank presumption on his part to dare to lift his eyes to you. Why, my dear, if you were to marry him your life would be an absolute thraldom. You mustn't think of it, dear child. You mustn't indeed. Why, he is not much better than a stable-boy. And his speech----"
"He has spent a good deal of his time among cowboys." Maud was still firmly trying to disengage herself. "His speech is more or less acquired. In any case--in any case--I have given him my promise. And you had better not let Mr. Sheppard interfere. It would be wise of him to keep out of Jake's way in fact. Jake knows exactly why I am prepared to marry him."
"My dear! You actually made a confidant of that dreadful person! How could you?"
"I wanted a man to protect me," Maud said very bitterly, "from the vindictive savagery of a brute!"
"Maud! How can you talk so? And I am sure Jake Bolton is much more of a brute than poor Giles. Why, look at the man! Look at his mouth, his eyes! They absolutely stamp him. Oh, dear, you're very headstrong and difficult. I begin to think Giles had some excuse after all. Perhaps your uncle will be able to manage you. You are quite beyond me."
Maud almost laughed. "When does he arrive?" she asked.
"This evening. He has asked us to reserve a room for him." Mrs. Sheppard had speedily developed a proprietary interest in the management of the hotel. Its welfare had become far more engrossing than that of her children.
Maud opened the door. "We shall be gone by that time. Jake's finding us rooms somewhere in the town."
Mrs. Sheppard held up her hands. "Jake finding rooms! Maud! how--scandalous! How do you know--you don't know!--that he is to be trusted?"
Maud made a brief gesture as of one who submits to the inevitable. "I trust him," she said, with that in her voice that stilled all further protest.
And with the words she passed with finality out of her mother's room, and went away upstairs without a backward glance.
Mrs. Sheppard sat down and shed a few petulant tears over her child's waywardness. "She never would listen to advice," was the burden of her lament. "If she had, she would have been happily married to Lord Saltash by now, and I might have had my house in London to-day. Oh dear, oh dear! Children are a bitter disappointment. They never can be made to see what is for their own good. She'll rue the day. I know she will. That trainer man has a will of iron. He'll break her to it like one of his horses. My poor, proud Maud!"
CHAPTER XV
THE CLOSED DOOR
A way of escape! A way of escape! How often during the hours of that endless day were those words in Maud's mind. They pursued her, they mocked her, whichever way she turned.
To Jake she merely very briefly imparted the news of her uncle's expected advent, and he received it without comment.
Bunny was much more speculative. He had been somewhat carried out of himself by the trend of events. It was Jake who whispered to him the amazing information of his sudden conquest, together with a very strenuous injunction not to talk to Maud about it unless she started the subject. And Maud, for some reason, could not start it. She went through all the necessary arrangements for their removal as one in a dream, scarcely speaking at all, responding very occasionally to Bunny's eager surmises respecting the unknown great-uncle who had never before taken the faintest interest in them, or shown himself so much as aware of their existence. His coming did not seem to matter to her. If indeed he were about to offer her a way of escape, it could not matter to her now. The door that led thither had closed, closed in the night, because her mother had been too tired to seek her out and tell her. The irony of it! The bitter cruel irony! She dared not pause to think.
Jake spent a great part of the day with them, working with a will to get them comfortably settled in their new quarters before the fall of the early dusk. After that, he remained to tea; but he devoted almost the whole of his attention to Bunny, who had in fact come to regard it as his right.
He left soon after, refusing to remain for the game of chess for which the lad earnestly pleaded.
"Not to-night, my son! Your brain has got to settle down. It's a deal too lively at present."
He bent over Bunny at parting, and whispered a few words that were inaudible to Maud. Then he turned to go.
She followed him to the outer door. The evening air smote chill and salt upon her, and she shivered involuntarily. Jake stopped to light a cigarette.
"I shan't be coming round to-morrow," he remarked then. "I shall be too busy. But I'll look in on Saturday, and tell you what I've fixed up. Will Sunday morning do all right if I can fix it?"
She shivered again. "Yes," she said.
"Say, you're cold," said Jake gently. "I mustn't keep you standing here. But you really meant that Yes?"
He looked at her, and she saw that his eyes were kindly. She held out her hand with a desperate little smile.
"Yes, I meant it."
His hand closed strongly, sustainingly, upon hers. "Guess there's nothing to be scared of," he said. "I'll take care of you, sure."
She felt a sudden lump rise in her throat, and found she could not speak.
"You're tired," said Jake softly. "Go and get a good night! It's what you're wanting."
"Yes, I am tired," she managed to say.
He still held her hand, looking at her with those strange, glittering eyes of his that seemed to pierce straight through all reserve and enter even the hidden inner sanctuary of her soul.
"What's this relative of yours like now?" he asked unexpectedly.
She shook her head. "I don't know. I've never seen him."
"Think he's coming along to offer you a home?" asked Jake.
Her face burned suddenly and hotly. For some reason she resented the question. "I don't know. How can I possibly know?"
"All right," said Jake imperturbably. "But in case he does, I'd like you to know that you are at liberty to do as you please in the matter. He'll tell you, maybe, that I'm not the man for you. That, I gather, is your mother's attitude. I sensed it from the beginning. If he does, and if you feel inclined to agree with him, you're free to do so,--free as air. But at the same time, I'd like you to remember that if you should accept anything from him and then not find it to your liking, you can still come along to me and follow out the original programme. I'm only wanting to make you comfortable."
He stopped; and in the pause that followed, Maud's other hand came out to him, shyly yet impulsively. "You are--such a good fellow!" she said with a catch in her voice.
"Oh, bunkum!" said Jake, in a tone of almost indignant remonstrance.
He held her two hands, and turning, spat forth his cigarette into the night; an action of primitive simplicity that filled Maud with a grotesque kind of horrified mirth, mirth so intense that she had a sudden, hysterical desire to laugh. She restrained herself with a desperate effort.
"Good night!" she said, with something of urgency in her voice. "It isn't bunkum at all. It's the truth. You--I think you are the best friend I ever had. But--but----"
"But--" said Jake.
She freed her hands with a little gasp. "Nothing," she said. "Good night!"
It was a final dismissal, and as such he accepted it. She heard the steady fall of his feet as he went away, and with his going she managed to recover her composure.
There was an undeniable greatness about him that seemed to dwarf all criticism. She realized that to measure him by ordinary standards was out of the question, and as she reviewed all that he had done for her that day a gradual warmth began to glow in her. There was no other friend in all her world who would have extended to her so firm or so comforting a support in her hour of adversity. And if her face burned at the memory of her own utter collapse in his presence, she could but recall with gratitude and with confidence the steadfast kindness with which he had upheld her. She had gone to him in anguished despair, and he had offered her the utmost that he had to offer. As to his motives for so doing, she had a feeling that he had deliberately refrained from expressing them. He wanted her and he wanted Bunny. Perhaps he was lonely. Perhaps years of wandering had created in him a longing for home and domestic comfort.
But she did not speculate very deeply upon that subject. She felt that she could not. There was something in the man's nature, something colossal of which she was but dimly aware, and which she had no means of gauging, that checked her almost at the outset. She found herself standing before a closed door, a door which she had neither the audacity nor the desire to attempt to open. She was even a little fearful lest one day that door should open to her of its own accord and she should be constrained to enter whether she would or not.
But on the whole that talk with Jake had calmed her. The man was so temperate, so completely master of himself, and withal so staunch in the friendship he had established with her, that she could not but feel reassured. There was a delicacy in his consideration for her that warmed her heart. She knew by every instinct of her being that he would take care of her as he had promised. And she wanted someone to take care of her so badly, so badly.
She was so deadly tired of fending for herself.
She found Bunny in a mood of remarkable docility, and she managed to get him to bed without much trouble. He also was worn out after two nights of restlessness, and he fell asleep earlier than usual.
She herself sat for awhile in the little sitting-room with a book, but she found she could not read. She was too tired to fix her attention, and the thought of Jake kept intruding itself whenever she attempted to do so. It was wonderful how she had come to rely upon him, knowing so little of him. He had always been far more to Bunny than to her.
She was drifting into a kind of semi-doze, still with the memory of him passing and repassing through her brain, when there came the sound of a bell in the house, and almost immediately after, the opening of the sitting-room door.
She started up in surprise to see her landlady usher in a little, spare grey-whiskered man who walked with a strut and cleared his throat as he came with a noise like the growling of a dog. He made her think irresistibly of a Scotch terrier bristling for a fight.
He halted in the middle of the room, and banged with his umbrella on the floor, as one demanding a hearing.
"Hullo!" he said. "My name's Warren. You, I take it, are Maud Brian. If so, I'm your Uncle Edward."
Maud came forward, still feeling a little dazed. Since Jake's departure she had almost forgotten the approaching advent of this relative of hers.
"How do you do?" she said. "Yes, I am Maud Brian. Come and sit down!"
He took her hand, looking at her with small grey eyes that were keenly critical.
"How old are you?" he demanded.
"I am twenty-five," said Maud, faintly smiling.
He uttered a grunting growl and sat down with a jerk. "I've come straight from your mother to talk to you. She's a fool, always was. I hope you're not another."
"Thank you," said Maud sedately.
He brought his shaggy grey brows together. "I've come the length of England to see you, but I haven't any time to waste. I'm going back to-morrow. That letter of yours--I meant to answer it, but business pressed, and it had to stand over. Then I decided to come and see what sort of young woman you were before I did anything further. I couldn't stand a replica of your mother in my house. But--thank goodness--you're not much like her. She tells me you're thinking of making a marriage of convenience to get away from your step-father. Now, that's a very serious step for a young woman to contemplate. It seems to me I've turned up in the nick of time."
Maud, sitting facing him with her hands folded in her lap, still faintly smiled. The bluntness with which he tackled the situation appealed more to her sense of humour than to any other emotion. She realized that he was actually about to offer her a way of escape, but, curiously, she no longer felt any desire to avail herself of it. By his generous assurance that she was at liberty to do as she would, Jake had somehow managed to range her on his side. She did not want to escape any more. Moreover, there was Bunny to be thought of. She knew well in what direction his desires--and his welfare also--lay.
"It was very kind of you to come," she said. "But, as regards my marriage, my mind is quite made up. He--the man I am going to marry--understands everything. I have been quite open with him. He has been most kind, most generous. I could not think of drawing back now."
"Pshaw!" said Mr. Warren. He sat forward in his chair, his hands gripping the knob of his umbrella and surveyed her with growing disapproval. "You're prepared to sell yourself to a man you don't love in return for a home, hey?" he asked.
She winced sharply, and in a moment her tired young face was flooded with colour. "Certainly not!" she said, her voice very low. "Most certainly not!"
"Looks uncommonly like it," he maintained.
"It is not so!" she said, with low-toned vehemence. "I have told you--he--understands."
"And is prepared to give all and receive nothing for his pains?" pursued the old man relentlessly. "If so, he's a very remarkable young man; and let me tell you for your comfort, it's an attitude he won't keep up for long, not--that is--unless he's a blithering idiot? Is he an idiot?"
Maud almost laughed. "No, that he is not! But really--really--you are wasting your time. If you had come this time yesterday, I would have listened to you. To-night it is impossible."
"Why impossible?"
"Because I have promised."
"Tut! tut! He must release you."
"He would release me," Maud said slowly. "That is just it."
"Just what? Talk sense if you can!" It was evident that patience was not Uncle Edward's strong point. He fidgeted his umbrella testily.
She looked at him with her clear, straight eyes. "That is just why I will not ask for my release. In fact, I--don't want it."
"Don't want it! Then, young woman, you're in love with him. I've come on a fool's errand, and I'll wish you good night."
He was on his feet with the words. Maud rose too. She laid a hand of half-timid restraint upon his arm.
"I am not--in love with him, Uncle Edward," she said, her voice not wholly steady. "Such a thing would be impossible. But at the same time--though I can't give him everything--he shall not repent his bargain. We are going to be--friends."
"Pshaw!" said Uncle Edward again. He gripped her hand unexpectedly, staring up at her with his keen eyes. "Do you know how old I am?" he said.
She shook her head.
"I'm eighty," he said. "I've seen a little of men in my time, and I've been a man myself. So let me tell you this! There's not a man on this earth who could be satisfied for long with that kind of farce. You've got him on the leash now. He's tame and good. But there's a ravening wolf inside us all, my dear, when we're thwarted, and the longer we're thwarted the more savage we get. You can't bring up a wolf--not the tamest wolf in the world--on bread and butter. Sooner or later he'll begin to feel a bit empty, and whine for the real thing. And if you still go on starving the brute till he's famished, he'll either break away and go elsewhere for food, or else he'll round on you one day and tear you in pieces. You'll be the sufferer either way. It's nature I tell you, it's nature. You'll have to give all or drive him away at the outset. There can't be half-measures with a man who is a man. If you offer them you must expect trouble. And remember, it's always the woman who pays in the end,--always the woman who pays."
He repeated the words with the impressiveness of a judge pronouncing sentence.
Maud was trembling, though she tried to conceal the fact. "And then there is Bunny to be thought of," she said.
"Bunny? Who is Bunny? Oh, your brother, is it? And he's a hopeless cripple, I understand? Is it for his sake that you've hatched this mad scheme?"
"In a great measure. You see, he and--and Jake Bolton are very fond of one another."
"Pshaw!" the old man exclaimed. "So this Jake Bolton is to have the boy, with you thrown in as a makeweight; is that it? And you think you're all going to be happy together, do you? Never heard such a tomfool scheme in my life. Where does this Jake Bolton hang out? I'll go and have a talk to him."
"Oh, please don't!" Maud begged. "He'll think I sent you. And really--really there is nothing to discuss."
"We'll see about that," he rejoined grimly. "Seems to me it's high time somebody came along and interfered. Now, look here, what's your name?--Maud! I'm going to get you out of this mess. You shan't marry a man you don't love just because there was no other way out. There is another way out, and you're to take it. You're to come and live with me, do you hear? You and your precious Bunny too! And when I die, I'll leave you both provided for. See? Come, I can't say fairer than that."
He was still gripping her hand, and looking at her with shrewd eyes under their beetling brows as though prepared to beat down all opposition. There was a look of Bunny about those eyes, Bunny in a difficult mood. She recognized it with a sigh. It seemed her fate to be continually doing battle with someone, and she felt wholly unfitted for it. All she asked of life was peace and quietness.
"My home is a dingy one," said her uncle, "but you may be able to make it more cheerful. I shan't interfere with either of you. Come, now, you're going to be a sensible girl, hey? I'm sorry I didn't turn up before. But the knot isn't tied, so I'm not too late. We must explain the situation to the young man. Unless he's an absolute bounder, he'll be amenable to reason."
But Maud shook her head. "I can't do it, Uncle Edward. I know you mean to be kind. I am very grateful. But--I can't."
He rasped his throat aggressively. "That's nonsense," he said with decision. "Plainly the man is beneath you. You say you don't love him, and never could."
"I am not--altogether--sure that he is beneath me," she said rather wistfully.
"But you don't love him?" her uncle insisted, scanning her piercingly.
She bent her head with an instinctive desire to avoid his eyes. "No."
"Or anyone else?" he pursued.
She made a small movement of protest.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, in the tone of one who has discovered something. "Your mother hinted as much. And you think you're going to make things better for yourself by marriage with a rank outsider. Is that it? Is that it? Then take my word for it, you're going to make the biggest mistake of your life. And if you persist in it, I've done with you. At least, no, I haven't done; for I'm going straight to that young man of yours to tell him the sort of bargain he's going to make."
He paused, for suddenly Maud had drawn herself up very straight and proud. "If you wish to do so, you must," she said, and her pale face was very regal and composed. "But it will not make the smallest difference to either of us. Jake has my promise. I have his."
It was at this point that the door opened again to admit the landlady with a note on a salver.
"Mr. Bolton's compliments," she said, "and will you be good enough to send back an answer?"
CHAPTER XVI
THE CHAMPION
Maud took the note with a glance at her uncle.
"Open it!" he said. "Don't mind me!" and stumped irately to the bay-window and pulled aside the blind.
Maud opened the note. Her hands were not very steady. The envelope contained a half-sheet of notepaper with a few words scrawled thereupon, and a short length of string.
"Sorry to trouble you," ran the note. "But will you tie a knot in the enclosed to show me the size of your wedding finger? Yours, Jake."
She looked up from the note as her uncle came tramping back. "Is it the young man himself?" he demanded.
"It's Mr. Bolton, sir," said the landlady.
"Then show him in!" ordered the old man autocratically. "Show him in, and we'll get it over! No time like the present."
A swift remonstrance rose to Maud's lips, but she did not utter it. The landlady looked to her for confirmation of the order, but she did not utter a single word.
"Get along!" commanded Uncle Edward. "Or I'll fetch him in myself!"
A whiff of tobacco-smoke came in through the open door. Maud stood very still, listening. A moment later there came the sound of a pipe being tapped on the heel of a boot, and then the firm, quiet tread of Jake's feet in the passage.
He entered. "I didn't mean to disturb you again, but I'd forgotten this little detail and I've got to catch an early train." He turned with no sign of surprise and regarded Maud's visitor. "Good evening, sir!" he said.
Mr. Warren gave him a brief nod. Maud still stood mute, Jake's note with the piece of string dangling therefrom in her hand.
He went quietly to her. "Say! Let me fix that for you!" he said.
She suffered him to take her hand. It lay cold and quivering in his. He wound the string round her third finger and knotted it. Then he slipped it off, and took the hand closely and warmly into his own.
"I hope you haven't come to forbid the banns," he said, calmly returning the grim scrutiny that the old man had levelled at him from the moment of his entrance.
Uncle Edward uttered a sound indicative of intense disgust. "I? Oh, I've no authority," he said. "I disapprove--if that's what you mean. Any decent person would disapprove of the sort of alliance you two are determined to make. But I don't expect my opinion to be deferred to. If you choose to marry a woman who doesn't care two straws about you, it's your affair, not mine."
Jake turned in his deliberate fashion to Maud. "Your uncle, I presume?" he said.
"Yes," she made answer.
His face wore a smile that baffled her, as he said: "It's my opinion that we should get on better alone together, though it's for you to decide."
She looked at him rather piteously, and as if in answer to that look Jake slipped a steady arm about her.
"What about the head of the family?" he said, speaking softly almost as if to a child. "Reckon he'll be wanting you. Won't you go to him?"
The slight pressure of his arm directed her towards the door. She yielded to it instinctively, with an abrupt feeling that the matter had been taken out of her hands.
He went with her into the passage, and they stood for a moment together under the flickering lamp.
"Bunny in bed?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
He was still faintly smiling. "You go to bed too, my girl!" he said. "I'll settle this old firebrand."
"Don't--quarrel with him, Jake!" she said nervously.
"What should I quarrel about?" said Jake. "Good night, forlorn princess!"
His voice had a note in it that was almost motherly. She went, from him with a distinct sense of comfort. His touch had been so strong and withal so gentle.
As for Jake, he turned back into the room with the utmost confidence and shut himself in with an air of decision.
"Now, sir," he said, "if you've any complaint to make, p'raps you'll be good enough to mention it to me right now, and I'll deal with the same. I'm not going to have my girl bullied any more."
His voice was quiet, even slightly drawling, but his eyes shone with something of a glare. He came straight to the old man, who still leaned on his umbrella, and stood before him.
The latter gazed at him ferociously, and for a space they remained thus, stubbornly fixing each other. Then abruptly the old man spoke.
"You're very masterful, young fellow-my-lad. I suppose you think yourself one of the lords of creation, good enough for anybody, hey?"
Jake's stern face relaxed slowly. "I don't claim to be a prince of the blood," he said, "but I reckon I've got some--points."
"And you reckon you're good enough to marry my niece?" snapped Uncle Edward.
Jake squared his shoulders. "I shall make her a better husband than some," he said.
The old man smote the floor with his umbrella. "Shall you? And has she told you that she's in love with another man?"
Jake's right hand went suddenly deep into his pocket and remained there. "I am aware that she was once," he said, speaking very deliberately. "But that is over. Also, he was not the man for her."
"A scoundrel, hey? Not a sound man like yourself?" There was a malicious note in the query, but Jake ignored it.
"He does not count anyway," he said, with finality. "If he did, your niece wouldn't have come to me for protection. I believe she appealed to you first, but you had more important things to attend to. With me it was otherwise, and so I consider that I have a greater right to be her protector than anyone else in the world."
"Do you?" said Uncle Edward. "That means you're in love with her, I suppose?"
Jake's eyes fenced with his. "You may take it to mean that if it pleases you to do so," he said.
The old man raked his throat pugnaciously. "It's damn' presumption. I tell you that," he said.
"That may be," said Jake, unmoved.
"But it doesn't alter your intentions, hey? You're one of the cussed sort, I can see. Well, look here, young man! I'll make you a proposal. You seem to think I've neglected my duty, though heaven knows these Brians have no claims on me. But I've taken a fancy to the girl. She's gentle, which is more than can be said for most of your modern young women. So you just listen to me for a minute! You're on a wrong tack altogether. Courting should come before marriage, not after. You may marry first and you may think for a time that all is going to be well between you, but there'll come a day when you'll wake up and find that in spite of all you haven't won her. And that'll mean misery for you both. Don't you do it, young man! You'll find the game's not worth the candle. You have a little patience! Let the girl come to me for a bit! I may be old, but I'll protect her. And if you care to come after her, and do a little courting now and then, well--it's not a very brilliant match for her, but I shan't forbid it."
He ceased to speak. There seemed to be a smile in the eyes that watched him, but there was no suggestion of it about Jake's mouth, which was slightly compressed.
"That's all very well, sir," he said in his slow quiet way. "But have you laid this proposal of yours before Miss Brian herself?"
Uncle Edward made a sound of impatience. "She can think of no one but her brother. She'll agree fast enough when she realizes that it's the only thing to do."
"Will she?" said Jake. "And have you put it to her in that light?"
The old man coughed and made no reply.
Jake went on with the utmost composure. "You offer her a home where she can continue to be a slave to her brother. You don't propose to lift the burden at all, to ease her life, to make her happy. You wouldn't know where to begin. You are ready and anxious to deliver her from me. But there your goodness starts and finishes. You talk of my damnable presumption." A ruddy glitter like the flicker of a flame dispelled the hint of humour from the lynx-like eyes. "That is just your point of view. But I reckon I'm nearer to her--several lengths nearer--than you or any other man. She hasn't brought all her troubles to you and cried her heart out in your arms, has she? No,--nor ever will--now! You've come too late, sir,--too late by just twelve hours! You may keep your money and your home to yourself! The girl is mine."
A deep note suddenly sounded in the man's voice, and Uncle Edward was abruptly made aware of a lion in his path.
He backed at once. He had not the smallest desire for an encounter with the savage beast.
"Tut, tut!" he said. "You talk like a Red Indian. I wasn't proposing to deprive you of her; only to give the girl a free hand and you the chance of winning her. If you take her without, there'll be the devil to pay sooner or later; I can tell you that. But, if you won't take the chance I offer, that's your affair entirely. I have no more to say."
"I am taking a different sort of chance," Jake said. "And I have a suspicion that it's less of a gamble than the one you suggest. In any case, I've put my money on it, and there it'll stay."
He looked Uncle Edward straight in the eyes a moment, and then broke into his sudden, disarming smile.
"Can't you stop over the week-end now and give her away?" he asked persuasively. "Her mother seems to shy at the notion."
"Her mother always was a fool," said Uncle Edward irascibly. Here at least was a safe object upon which to vent his indignation! "The biggest fool that ever lived! What on earth men found to like in her I never could understand. Oh yes, I'll give the girl away. If you're so set on getting married at once, I'd better stop and see that it's done properly. Lucy never did anything properly in her life."
"Thank you," said Jake. "You are most kind--and considerate."
"Mark you, that doesn't mean that I approve," warned the old man. "It's a hare-brained scheme altogether, but I suppose I owe it to my family to see that it's done on the square."
Jake had suddenly become extremely suave. "That is very benevolent of you, sir," he said.
"I regard it as my duty," said Uncle Edward gruffly.
He had never been called benevolent before, and the term was not altogether to his liking. It seemed safer to accept it, however, without question. There was an unknown element about this young man that was in some fashion formidable. An odd respect mingled with his first contempt. The fellow might be a bounder,--he was not absolutely decided upon that head--but, as he himself had modestly stated, he had some points. By marrying him, his young niece was about to commit a very rash act, but it was possible--just possible--that it might not lead to utter disaster. It was not a marriage of which he could approve, but the man seemed solid, and certainly he himself had no urgent desire to take in the girl and her cripple brother. Altogether, though he did not like to think that his advice had been ignored, and though at the back of his mind there lurked a vague uneasiness not unmixed with self-reproach, it seemed that matters might have been considerably worse.
"Don't you tyrannize over her now!" he said to Jake at parting. "You've got a fighting face, young fellow-my-lad. But you bear in mind, she's a woman, and--unless I am much mistaken--she is not the sort to stand it."
"I don't fight with women, sir," said Jake somewhat curtly. "I've other things to do."
Uncle Edward smiled a dry smile. "And you've a few things to learn--yet," he remarked enigmatically.