CHAPTER XXITHE OLD LIFEThat Christmas morning was like a dream to Maud.To find herself in church with Jake by her side was a circumstance that she had been very far from expecting, and the experience was so unique that it seemed scarcely real.It was by his suggestion that they were there, and he had overruled her hesitation as to leaving Bunny with a masterly skill that had enlisted Bunny himself on his side.So they had gone, like a sober married couple, as Maud said to herself, though the thought of Jake as her husband was somehow one that she invariably failed utterly to grasp. She herself found it impossible to give her undivided attention to the service with the perpetual consciousness of his presence at her side. She could not tear her mind from him. He came between her and her devotions.And yet he himself seemed to be wholly absorbed. Not once did those watchful eyes stray in her direction. He followed the entire service with reverence and a steady concentration that she envied but could not emulate.When it was over and they were walking back, he drew a deep breath and remarked: "That's the first time I've been in church, except for our wedding, for twenty years."Maud looked at him in amazement. "So long as that?"He nodded. "I used to go regularly till my mother died. After that, I went to sea and got out of the way of it."There fell a silence upon his words. The colour that was always so quick to rise in Maud's cheeks spread upwards to her forehead.It was with an evident effort that she said finally: "You haven't told me anything about your mother yet, Jake."He turned his head slowly towards her. "It didn't strike me that you would care to hear," he said, with simplicity.She conquered her embarrassment with difficulty, but her voice was curiously devoid of enthusiasm as she said: "I am interested--of course.""Really?" said Jake. "I don't know why you should be. She was a very fine woman, and she killed herself with hard work when my father failed as a farmer. That's about all her story.""Oh, Jake, how dreadfully sad!" There was quick sympathy in Maud's tone. She put out a shy hand to him as they walked.He took it, held it fast for a moment, and let it go. "A woman will always attempt the impossible," he said, "for the sake of anyone she cares for. You would do the same for Bunny. I saw that the first day I met you. I've seen it a hundred times in different parts of the world, and I guess it's one of the greatest things in life."Maud uttered a sharp sigh. "I don't see anything great in doing what one must," she said rather sadly. "It is very nice of you to admire women, but I expect it is chiefly because you don't understand them."Jake's frank smile appeared at her words. "I'm not disputing that most women need a burden of some sort," he said gently. "I guess that's just a woman's way. She wouldn't be happy if she hadn't one.""And yet you want to take mine away!" The words were out almost before she knew it. She repented them even as they fell.Jake's smile passed, and an odd, dogged look took its place. "I reckon that's different," he said. "You've carried too heavy a burden all your life. Do you know, Maud"--his voice softened though his face remained unchanged--"that first time I saw you, I recognized that look of desperate endurance in your eyes that my mother used to have? It cut right through me. And you were so young, which made it worse.""I don't feel young," she interposed."I know," he made answer. "You've missed it all. But when you're stronger--happier--you'll find you're not so old. There are quite a lot of good things in the world even for middle-aged folk like you and me."She uttered a little dubious laugh."Yes, that's so," he asserted, in that calm, confident drawl of his. "And that brings me round to what I've been wanting to say to you. I don't want to deprive you of anything worth having, but I am wanting--real badly--to make a sound man of Bunny as soon as may be. Reckon you're wanting that too?"Her heart gave a thick, hard throb. "Of course," she said rather breathlessly."Yes, of course," agreed Jake imperturbably. "Well, I had a letter last night from Capper, one of the biggest surgeons in the world. I had the good luck to do him a small service, once, and he can't somehow forget it. Now he's coming to England in a few weeks, and he'll look me up. I've told him about Bunny, and he's sort of interested. Say, Maud, it would be a mighty big thing to let him examine the little chap and see what he thinks."Maud's face was very pale. She walked in silence.Jake glanced at her. "You'd be afraid?" he suggested."I don't know," she said, in that same breathless tone. "It--it seems rather soon. And suppose--suppose he failed!""My dear," Jake said gently. "Capper won't fail. He'll either tackle the job and carry it through, or he won't attempt it. That's the sort of man he is."Maud dropped back into silence. The road at this point was somewhat steep, and she was gasping for breath.Suddenly Jake reached out, took her hand, and pulled it through his arm. "All right, my girl, all right!" he said kindly. "We won't hustle any. I shan't say another word to Bunny on the subject till you have made up your mind what you'd like done. Now you lean on me! I'll pull you up."She did not want to lean on him, but for some reason she could not at once withdraw her hand. They mounted the hill side by side.Jake said no more upon the subject. He evidently regarded it as closed. As they turned in at length at the white gates, he said: "I was wondering if your mother could be persuaded to come up to tea if I went and fetched her with the dog-cart. We couldn't squeeze Sheppard into that if we tried."She knew that he made the suggestion solely for her pleasure, and a sudden warmth kindled within her."You are good to me, Jake!" she said gratefully."Oh, rats!" said Jake. "Being good to you is all one with being good to myself. I'll go then as soon as dinner is over. Now who in thunder--" He stopped abruptly gazing straight ahead.A momentary frown drew his level brows and passed. "Hullo!" he said, in a soft drawl.Maud was looking ahead too. She saw a man's figure moving towards them over the stones of the yard; she heard the ring of spurs. And suddenly she stood still, white to the lips, panting, unnerved.It could have been only for a second, that pause of hers; for at once she was aware of Jake's hand pushed lightly through her arm, leading her forward."I guess I don't need to introduce Lord Saltash," he said. "You've met before."Yes, they had met before, met and parted, and the memory of it stabbed her to the heart. She moved forward, as it were mechanically, under Jake's guidance. She had known that this ordeal would have to be faced, but it had taken her unawares. She was unprepared.But the moment she heard his voice, his laugh, her agitation was gone. There was a subtlecamaraderiein Lord Saltash's greeting that smoothed the way. She remembered with a pang that it had ever been his custom to take the easiest course.With his hand holding hers, and his ugly face laughing its debonair welcome into her own, she could not feel tragic or even disconcerted any longer, even though with his other hand he clapped Jake on the shoulder."So you've gone and got married, have you?" he said, his eyebrows working with monkeyish rapidity. "How original of you! I won't be banal enough to congratulate. It's such a bore to have to reply to that sort of thing. Let me wish you a happy Christmas instead!Ma belle reine des roses, je te salue! You are more faultily faultless than ever!"He made her a sweeping, cavalier's bow, and lightly kissed her hand.She laughed without effort. "How odd to meet you like this, Charlie! I thought you were still abroad."She was not even aware of uttering his Christian name, so naturally did it rise to her lips. It seemed to her suddenly that the old cruel barrier had been removed. Since they could never again be lovers, they were free now to be friends.Surely the same thought had struck him also, for his odd eyes smiled intimately, confidentially, into hers, ere he turned in his lightning fashion to Jake, standing solidly by her side."You knew we were old friends?" he questioned.Jake's eyes, red-brown, intent, watched the swarthy, mobile face without the smallest shade of expression. "Yes," he said, in his slow soft voice, "I knew."Maud glanced at him quickly. How much did he know? Had Bunny ever confided in him upon the subject?But his face, absolutely composed and normal, told her nothing. He accepted the hand that Lord Saltash extended, looking him full and straight in the face. And through her mind unbidden there ran the memory of that strange story of treachery that Jake had once told to her and Bunny. Looking at the dark, keen countenance of this man who had once been so much more to her than friend, she tried to visualize his double, and failed utterly. Surely there could be but one Charlie Burchester in all the world!"What are you trying to see?" laughed Lord Saltash. "I carry neither my virtues nor my vices in my face, being long past the ingenuous age. Have we time to go round the Stables? Or is your Christmas turkey clamouring to be eaten?"Maud shot a swift look at Jake who after a momentary pause said, "I can go round with you now if you wish, my lord."Saltash made a quick grimace. "That's very obliging of you, Bolton. But don't let me interfere with your domestic arrangements! I can come over again later."It was then that Maud very quietly intervened. "If you care to join us at dinner I am sure we shall be very pleased, and you can go and see the stud afterwards.""What! Really?" said Lord Saltash. "Of course I shall be delighted. There are to-morrow's events at Graydown, Bolton, I want you to post me up with the latest. Sure I shan't be in the way?"He put the question directly to Jake, who replied without haste or hesitation: "I reckon no guest of ours could be that."There was nothing in his manner to indicate if he were pleased or otherwise by the arrangement. He seemed to be in a mood of extreme reticence, and Maud wondered as they walked to the house if she had vexed him by taking upon herself to extend hospitality to his patron.But then it had been the only course open to her. Surely he must see that! She and Charlie were such old friends; they could not begin to be strangers now.Yet the doubt worried her. Jake was plainly not upon very intimate terms with Lord Saltash. Or was it her presence that caused constraint? She wished she knew, but she had no means of ascertaining. She could only do her best, ably seconded by Saltash, to smooth over any slight difficulties that might arise from a situation that was certainly none too easy.Despite her efforts she could not fail to note that Jake was more self-contained, more unresponsive, than she had ever before seen him, and for a time she felt her own manner to be strained and unnatural in consequence.Lord Saltash plainly noticed nothing. Throughout that Christmas dinner he was just as gay, as debonair, as audacious, as he had been in the old days, complimented her with his usual effrontery, provoked her to laughter with all his old quick wit. She found it impossible not to respond, impossible not to expand in the warmth of his good comradeship. She seemed to be drawn into a magic circle of gaiety that could not last, that was all the more precious because it could not last. Bunny also was well within that charmed region. He was full of animation, eager, excited, even merry. She had an uneasy fear that he would pay for his high spirits later, but for the time she had not the heart to check him. She understood his feelings so thoroughly. It was so good to have Charlie with them again and to bury all the troubles of the past, so good to see the flower of friendship spring from the dead root of passion. so good to be on easy terms again with this man whom in spite of everything, she could not but regard as a kindred spirit.They had always been sympathetic. They looked upon much in life with the same eyes. They had the same tastes, the same intuitions, often the same impulses. Yes, he had shown himself unworthy. There was a fatal flaw in his character. He was wild, lawless, immoral; but he was her friend. Somehow she could not feel that anything could ever alter that. They had been too near, too intimate. He had become like one of the family. She could not regard him in any other light. He had wounded her to the heart, but yet, with a woman's odd faithfulness, she forgave him, pitied him, understood him. Only upon that one point she had stood firm. Her innate purity had arisen as an angel with a flaming sword, dividing them. She had not been able to overlook his sins and marry him. She had known him too well--too well. Possibly even she had loved him too well also.But all that was over now. The pain was stifled, the sacrifice was past. She could suffer herself to accept his easy friendship with no dread for the future. She could let herself be at ease with him once more, knowing herself to be beyond his reach. Once very sorely she had been tempted to yield to him, but that temptation could never occur again. Her marriage was a safe anchor from which she could never break free and drift out to sea. She could afford now to be kind, since henceforth no more than kindness could ever be expected from her. And it was so good to be with him again. With all his waywardness and instability Charlie Burchester was the most satisfying friend she had. He never wearied her. He always caught and charmed her mood. He was so rarely sensitive, so delicately alive, to every change of feeling. There was even something almost uncanny sometimes in the way he read her woman's heart, a feat for which he himself accounted by declaring that they had been born under the same star.It all came back to her as they sat at the same board on that Christmas Day. It was just as if there had never been any lift in their friendship. The memory of the man's passionate pleading and her own anguished refusal had faded into an evil dream. They were back once more in the old happy days of comradeship before he had ever spoken to her of love.Only Jake's presence held her to the present, and when at the end of dinner he rose to carry out his suggestion with regard to fetching her mother in the dog-cart she felt, as soon as the door closed upon him, that the old life she knew and loved had wholly returned. She and Bunny and Saltash were just children together, and they settled down to enjoy themselves as such.CHAPTER XXIITHE FAITHFUL WIDOWERLord Saltash's desire to see the stud evaporated completely during the afternoon. He stayed and made himself extremely charming to Mrs. Sheppard, who returned with Jake, very fluttered and arch, to spend an hour--only an hour or Giles would be so cross--in her daughter's new home. And when she left again under Jake's escort it was already growing dark."I've got to talk business with Jake so I may as well wait till he comes back," said Lord Saltash comfortably, and they gathered round the blazing fire and sat in luxurious enjoyment.Undoubtedly Bunny had enjoyed himself that afternoon, but he had begun to grow restless and irritable, signs which Maud had learned to recognize as the heralds of a wakeful night. She wondered with some uneasiness if Jake would be able to manage him with his usual success."You haven't got a piano here, have you?" asked Saltash in a pause.She told him, "No."In the old days they had sung duets together. She wondered if he remembered.He went lightly on. "You will have to use the one at the Castle. You mustn't let your talents run to seed. Come up any day, you and Bunny. The place will always be open to you, whether I am there or not."She thanked him for the thought. "We should love to come; I have had no opportunities for playing for months, not since we left London.""No?" he said. "I say, what made your mother come to Fairharbour? It's a hole of a place to live in."She felt her face burn in the firelight. She hesitated, and at once Bunny cut in."The mother always has an eye on the main chance," he said. "And she is a great believer in friendship. When things look black she always likes to hunt up old friends and give them their opportunity."His meaning was not obscure. Maud made a quick movement of protest; but Lord Saltash's inconsequent laugh covered her discomfiture on the instant."Poor Lady Brian! I am afraid her luck and mine are made of the same rotten material. It tears at a touch. But I should have thought she might have chosen a sounder man than Sheppard of 'The Anchor' for a husband.""Isn't he sound?" asked Maud quickly.Lord Saltash laughed again. "I could sell him up--lock, stock, and barrel--to-morrow if I wanted."She started. "Charlie! You don't mean that!"He looked at her with a gleam of mischief in his queer eyes. "Of course I do! 'The Anchor' belongs to me, and all that is in it. It's mortgaged for considerably more than its value, and I hold the mortgage. Did he never mention that detail?"Maud sat speechless.He stretched out a lazy hand. "It's all right, Queen Maud. He is quite safe so long as he behaves decently to you and yours. He's something of a brute-beast, I believe? Well, if he needs any salutary correction, you must let me know."His ugly face laughed into hers; the light in his eyes was half-mocking, half-tender."It's good to know that there may be something left that I can yet do for you," he said. "The worthy Jake may have a stout right arm, but he is not a Croesus."He turned the conversation in his easy, well-bred fashion, and her embarrassment died down. But the carelessly uttered information dwelt persistently in her mind, even though she found herself talking of indifferent things. It was strange that all her affairs should be so completely--and it seemed so irrevocably--under the direct control of this man whom she had once so resolutely driven out of her life. Fate or chance had thrown them together again. A little secret tremor went through her. What would come of it?She had not attempted to touch the hand he had stretched forth to her. It had fastened upon the arm of the chair in which she sat and rested there. Presently she looked down at it, her eyes attracted by the gleam of the ring upon it."Your own," murmured Saltash. "Violets blue as your eyes!"He moved his hand in the firelight, and the sapphire shone in the midst of the diamonds like a deep blue flame in the heart of a leaping fire. He drew a little nearer to her."You sent it back to me," he said. "I have worn it--like a faithful widower--ever since."Her heart contracted with an odd little pain. "Don't wax sentimental, Charlie!" she pleaded, with a difficult smile."Would you prefer me heartless?" he said; but he withdrew his hand, and the sapphire burned no more.They began to talk again upon ordinary topics, and the conversation turned upon the Graydown Steeplechase Races of the morrow. Two horses from the Burchester Stud were running."Beauties they are too!" said Bunny, with enthusiasm. "Sam Vickers swears they'll win." He uttered his quick, impatient sigh. "What wouldn't I give to see 'em do it!""Why shouldn't you?" said Saltash. "I'll take you over.""Will you?" cried Bunny, with shining eyes.And in the same breath. "No, no!" said Maud quickly. "Charlie! Why do you suggest these impossible things?"Saltash laughed. "I never suggest the impossible," he said. "Bunny--and you too--can come along in the car if you will. I can make him quite comfortable with cushions."But Maud shook her head. "It isn't so easy as it used to be. And he gets tired so soon. Really--really, it can't be done!""Oh, Maud, do shut up!" broke in Bunny. "You jaw like any old woman! Of course I'll come, Charlie! When will you be round?"Lord Saltash looked at Maud with an impish expression. "I am afraid you are in the minority,ma reine. But leave it to me! I'll undertake that no harm is done."Maud rose suddenly from her chair. She stood upright and slender in the firelight. "I can't consent to it," she said with resolution.He sprang instantly to his feet. "You don't want to come?" he said.She met his challenging eyes with an effort. "Don't make things difficult," she begged in a low voice."But if I got your mother to come too!" he urged. "She used to love race-meetings."She turned her eyes away. "Neither Bunny nor I can go," she said steadily."I say I will go!" cried Bunny hotly. "I'm old enough to do as I like, and I won't be dictated to by anyone."Saltash turned back to him. "I'll take you one day, old chap. But the queen's word is law, you know. We can't go in direct opposition to it. Moreover," with audacious simplicity, "it wouldn't be great sport for any one if the queen herself did not deign to accompany us.""She'll go fast enough if I do," said Bunny. "She sticks to me like a leech.""Lucky beggar!" said Saltash.He glanced back at Maud. She was still on her feet, turned partially from him. It was evident that she did not mean to renew the friendly intercourse that his unwelcome suggestion had interrupted."I must get back to my lonely castle," said Saltash.She turned then, as he had known she would. "No, don't go--why should you?--till--till Jake comes back!"He laughed into her eyes. "Now, don't try to persuade me that you want me any longer! I know the signs too well. I am going to walk down and meet Jake, as I must have a word with him about the animals. By the way, why don't you call him Jacob? The other is too frivolous for your august lips."There was a sting in the smiling question of which she alone was aware. She knew that he had it in him to be malicious at times. But she would not seem to notice."Are you backing either of the horses running to-morrow?" she asked.He raised his agile brows. "But, of course I am. Who ever went to a meeting without putting something on? And you don't suppose I would lay a wager against one of my own beasts, do you?""You always back your own before anyone else's?" she said."Of course," he made prompt reply. "We've pulled off a good many events since Jake took command.""Yes," she said slowly. "He is a genius with horses.""Oh, quite useful," said Saltash carelessly. "Well, good night to you both! Many thanks for your kind hospitality! Don't forget the piano at the Castle! Come and go exactly as you like! I will give orders to that effect.""You are very kind," she said.But the pleasant intimacy between them was broken. She knew that her refusal to go with him on the morrow had hurt him. He was in a mood to sting at a touch.She gave him her hand with genuine regret. "Good-bye, Charlie!" she said gently.He took it with a gesture that made her remember that his mother had been a Frenchwoman. "Good night,ma chère!" he said lightly. "When thou art dreaming, think of me!"Her faint laugh had a note of bitterness. "But I never dream," she said.CHAPTER XXIIITHE NARROWING CIRCLEWhen Jake returned at length, he entered an atmosphere so unmistakably stormy that he looked instinctively to Maud for an explanation.The room was lighted and the curtains drawn. She was sitting in the low chair by the fire doing some intricate crochet-work with knitted brows. There was tension in her attitude, tension in the firm compression of her lips.Bunny lay on his sofa, hot-cheeked, fiery-eyed, beating an impatient tattoo with one hand on the table by his side. On the table lay the presents that he had received that day, a box of paints and sketching block from his mother, a book from Maud, a small telescope from Jake himself. But he was looking at none of them. His brows too were closely drawn. His teeth bit viciously into his lower lip.Maud did not raise her eyes at Jake's entrance. She seemed intent upon her work. He came and stood beside her."I should have been back sooner," he remarked, "but Lord Saltash met me, and I had to take him back to the Castle in the dog-cart."Her fingers moved very rapidly. "I thought perhaps you would dine with him," she said, in a voice that sounded very cold and aloof."Not I," said Jake. "Give me my own fireside, and my clay pipe that doesn't go into aristocratic society!"She raised her eyes momentarily. "Are you a Socialist?" she asked.His eyes were unblinkingly upon her. "I guess not," he said, speaking with something of a drawl. "I've seen life--lots of it--that's all. As to my politics, well, I reckon they're mine and no one else's. I think just what I like of everything and everybody." He turned those intent eyes suddenly upon Bunny. "What's wrong with the head of the family?" he asked.At once Bunny burst into speech. "Jake, it's--it's infernal that I can't go to the races in Charlie's motor--to-morrow. He's offered to take me. Why shouldn't I go? Hang it all, I will go!" He banged his clenched fist upon the table with the last passionate words.Maud kept her eyes upon her work. Her hands though they moved so rapidly, were not wholly steady. "He is not fit to go," she said."That's not the reason you refused!" flung back Bunny, who was rapidly working himself up to fever pitch. "You said No just because you thought Jake would be jealous if you said you'd go. You're afraid of him, that's what's the matter with you,--afraid of his finding out that you're still in love with Charlie."He broke into his cracked, painful laugh, stopping abruptly as Jake left the hearth and stepped quietly to his side."Don't touch me!" he said, shrinking sharply back.Jake stooped. His face was grim. "My son, I'm going to touch you," he said. "I'm going to carry you straight up to bed. You've had more than enough excitement for to-day.""I'm not going to bed!" cried Bunny, his voice high and defiant. "I'm not going for hours yet. Jake--Jake--leave me alone, do you hear? You're hurting me!""Afraid you've got to be hurt," said Jake.He was slipping steady hands under the boy's writhing body. Maud had risen. She came swiftly forward. She touched Jake's shoulder, her face pale and agitated."Don't, please, Jake!" she entreated. "It does more harm than good."He did not look at her or pay the smallest attention. Bunny was already in his arms,--Bunny, purple with rage, waving his arms in blind impotence."P'raps you'd open the door for me!" said Jake, in his slow gentle voice.She went to the door. Somehow it was the only thing left to do. Jake followed her with his burden.As he did so, Bunny ceased to struggle, realizing the mastery of the steady arms that bore him, and spoke; in a voice of tense hostility."You beastly groom!" he said.Jake said nothing whatever. He carried him firmly, unfalteringly, from the room.Maud closed the door softly behind him, and went back to her chair.But she did not take up her work again. She sat gazing into the fire with wide, troubled eyes. She was beginning to realize that old associations, old friends, could be nothing but a disturbing element in her life, beginning to wish with yearning sadness that Charlie had not come back into it. She was tired--so tired, so sick at heart.As for Bunny, he had grown out of hand and would never be the same to her again. She was sure of it, she was sure of it. Nothing ever could be the same again in this new world that she had entered. It was a world of harsh realities, wherein dwelt no softening magic. The fate she had dreaded was surely closing in upon her. Whichever way she turned, she found a narrowing circle.A long time passed. She began to grow anxious. What was happening upstairs? Was it possible that Jake might after all lose his temper and visit his wrath upon Bunny's rebellious head? Would he by any chance make use of that frightful language which she had heard him employ only a few days before to a negligent stable-boy? Bunny's bitter epithet dwelt in her memory. Surely Jake would be something more than human if he did not resent it!And then suddenly she heard his square footfall on the uncarpeted stairs, and a great wave of agitation went through her. All her being quivered at the thought of him, his unyielding mastery, his utter confidence. Two eyes, one black, one grey, seemed to flash a mocking question out of the depths of the fire into which she gazed. Her heart gave a little quiver of misgiving that yet was oddly mingled with satisfaction. No, she was not wholly sorry that Lord Saltash had come back into her life. He was so subtly refreshing. He sounded deeps in her of which none other guessed. His gaiety of soul called back her vanished youth.Jake entered, and she turned her head, masking her embarrassment with a resolute effort. "Oh, Jake, come and sit down! I am so sorry this has happened."He pulled forward a chair and dropped into it. "The little chap is overtired," he said. "He'll be better left to himself for a bit."He spoke in a quiet, temperate voice. She realized with relief that he had not taken Bunny's bitter outburst seriously. She took up her work again."He is always difficult to manage when he gets caught by one of these moods," she said. "And he is apt to say wild things."Jake began to fill his pipe, making no comment.Maud worked on for several seconds, still struggling against an uneasy feeling of shyness.After a little, in a low voice she spoke again. "Jake, I think--with you--that if Dr. Capper will examine Bunny and--and perhaps operate on him, it had better be done--as soon as possible.""That so?" said Jake.She knew that he turned his head to look at her, and a hot sense of discomfiture surged through her. She worked with fevered speed, as if much depended upon it."Of course--of course I want him to have--every chance. I am not so selfish as that. But--but--the anxiety will be very hard to bear. I dread it more than I can possibly say."Her lips quivered suddenly. She became silent, still desperately making stitches that she could hardly see. She had not meant to make any appeal for sympathy. It had, as it were, escaped her from sheer embarrassment. She had never felt more utterly ill at ease in Jake's presence than she felt that night.He did not immediately respond though she knew that he continued to watch her with those lynx-like, brilliant eyes. But after a very decided pause, his hand, square and steady, came forth and stopped her fevered working."Sit still for a bit, my girl!" he said. "Give yourself a rest!"She started sharply at his touch, but gave in at once, suffering him to draw the work from her hands."Say, now," he said, "when you married me, I made myself a vow that you shouldn't be burdened any more beyond your strength. This anxiety you speak of, will it be harder to bear than to see Bunny suffering and not be able to help?"She shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears."Guess you're overwrought," he said gently. "Why don't you lie down on the sofa? P'raps you'd get a sleep."She mastered herself with an effort. "No, thank you. I am quite all right. Of course Bunny's welfare comes before everything and always will with me. Do you know, I think I will run up to him and see that he has all he wants.""No, my girl, no! You stay where you are!" said Jake. "I've got him in hand. Don't you go making more trouble!"She glanced at him with quick uneasiness. "But is he happy? Is he comfortable? I never leave him for long when he is like this. Once he dragged himself right out of bed and on to the floor. He was worse for weeks after.""He won't do that to-night," said Jake.But she was not reassured. "He may. How can you tell? He can be quite violent sometimes.""He won't be to-night," said Jake with unmistakable conviction."What have you been doing to him?" she said, with quick suspicion.He put a restraining hand upon her for she seemed on the verge of rising. "Now, don't you meddle!" he said. "The boy will be all right; only leave him alone! He won't come to any mischief because he can't. I've tied him down. No, he ain't uncomfortable," as she uttered a sharp cry of protest. "I saw to that before I put out the light and left him to come to his senses. He won't hurt, I tell you. You leave him alone!"But Maud was already on her feet. "How could you?" she panted. "How dare you?"He rose with her, still holding her. "Now be reasonable!" he said, in a voice of soft persuasion. "I'm real fond of the little chap, and I'm trying to make a man of him. He knows that all right. It's discipline he wants and discipline he's going to have. Don't you get interfering! You'll do more harm than good.""Let me go!" breathed Maud.She was white to the lips as she said it, white and desperate. Her eyes burned like two stars. But Jake held her still."Say, now!" he drawled. "Aren't you a bit unreasonable? I've taken a lot of trouble to bring him into line. And, as I tell you, I haven't hurt any part of him, except his pride, and that'll soon mend. Maud, my girl, now don't act the fool! Don't, I say, don't!"She had made a sharp effort to wrest her arm free; but he frustrated it, taking her two wrists very gently but very decidedly into his square hold."Let me go!" she cried again, her pale lips trembling. "How--how dare you hold me against my will? Jake, you--forget yourself!"He was looking at her with a hint of humour in his red-brown eyes. They were shining too, shining with a hot intensity, as though the leaping flames of the fire were reflected there. But at her words, he let her go very abruptly and turned from her. He took up his pipe again, standing so that she saw only his broad back and gleaming hair, while she waited behind him in palpitating silence.Some seconds passed before he spoke. And then: "All right, my girl," he said. "Have it your own way! I reckon he's your brother more than mine, and I know you have his welfare at heart. If you think it to his interest to go and undo him--he ain't uncomfortable, mind you! I saw to that--I shan't interfere either way. Do whatever seems good to you!"So he delivered himself, and having spoken sat squarely down and pulled out his match-box as though the matter were at an end.She stood irresolute, facing him."Well? Aren't you going?" he said, after a moment.And still she stood, feeling the strain to be past yet not daring to relax her guard.Jake struck a match and held it to his pipe, looking at her whimsically between great puffs of smoke."There! Sit down!" he said, after a meanest. "Leave the child alone for a bit! I'll go up to him myself before long."Casual as was his voice, the force of his personality reached and dominated her. It was certainly not of her own volition that she obeyed.She sat down again in the low chair before the hearth. "I know he will have a bad night," she said uneasily."It won't be any the worse for this," said Jake, with confidence. "And, now, look here, my girl, I want to ask you something--just in a friendly way."Maud's hands clasped each other hard. There was no repose in her attitude. "What is it?" she asked, in that aloof voice of hers that emanated from intense shyness rather than pride.Jake was smoking steadily. The heavy odour of his tobacco filled the room. "I don't want to give any offence," he said. "But it seems to me that Lord Saltash is on a footing of intimacy with you and Bunny that rather points to your not knowing the sort of person he really is."Maud's eyes grew suddenly darker. She looked him full in the face. "I know him too well to discuss him with any--outsider," she said."That so?" said Jake, slightly drawling. "Well, that certainly makes matters rather more complicated. I know him, too--awfully well,--so well that I shall have to request you to keep the young man at a respectful distance; for he certainly won't stay there if you don't."Maud sat tensely still. Several moments of utter silence passed away. Then, almost under her breath, she spoke. "Are you absurd enough to be jealous?"Jake's eyes watched her unwaveringly through the smoke. "Would it be very absurd of me?" he asked gravely."Utterly." She spoke the one word with a free disdain.He bent his head slightly. "Since you say so--it goes. At the same time, it might be well for you to remember that Lord Saltash invariably hunts for himself. He is not a man that any woman can safely trust. He has his points, maybe, but--he is not sound."Very steadily he delivered his verdict, and Maud received it in unbroken silence. More or less she knew it to be true, and yet very bitterly did she resent its utterance. It was as if he had exposed to her the worthlessness of a possession which for old sake's sake she treasured though conscious that in itself it was without value. For she had never idealized Charlie Burchester. Even in the old days of close intimacy she had always seen the feet of clay, though in her fond woman's way she had sought to overlook them. It was intolerable to have them pointed out to her by one whom she still curiously regarded as a comparative stranger.She had nothing to say on her friend's behalf. Reason warned her that it would be useless to attempt to take up the cudgels in his defence. And so she sat in silence, inwardly burning, outwardly calm.Jake smoked on for several minutes, then quietly rose. "I'll go up and settle the youngster now," he said. "And you have made up your mind on the other subject? I am to write to Capper?"She did not answer for a moment; her eyes were fixed upon the fire.He paused beside her, and again there came to her that sense of warmth, of bodily force, that seemed to reach her from the very centre of the man's being, rushing out to her, enveloping her.She made a slight, involuntary movement of withdrawal. "I have said so," she said.He paused no longer. "Then so be it!" he said, and walked away to the door.
CHAPTER XXI
THE OLD LIFE
That Christmas morning was like a dream to Maud.
To find herself in church with Jake by her side was a circumstance that she had been very far from expecting, and the experience was so unique that it seemed scarcely real.
It was by his suggestion that they were there, and he had overruled her hesitation as to leaving Bunny with a masterly skill that had enlisted Bunny himself on his side.
So they had gone, like a sober married couple, as Maud said to herself, though the thought of Jake as her husband was somehow one that she invariably failed utterly to grasp. She herself found it impossible to give her undivided attention to the service with the perpetual consciousness of his presence at her side. She could not tear her mind from him. He came between her and her devotions.
And yet he himself seemed to be wholly absorbed. Not once did those watchful eyes stray in her direction. He followed the entire service with reverence and a steady concentration that she envied but could not emulate.
When it was over and they were walking back, he drew a deep breath and remarked: "That's the first time I've been in church, except for our wedding, for twenty years."
Maud looked at him in amazement. "So long as that?"
He nodded. "I used to go regularly till my mother died. After that, I went to sea and got out of the way of it."
There fell a silence upon his words. The colour that was always so quick to rise in Maud's cheeks spread upwards to her forehead.
It was with an evident effort that she said finally: "You haven't told me anything about your mother yet, Jake."
He turned his head slowly towards her. "It didn't strike me that you would care to hear," he said, with simplicity.
She conquered her embarrassment with difficulty, but her voice was curiously devoid of enthusiasm as she said: "I am interested--of course."
"Really?" said Jake. "I don't know why you should be. She was a very fine woman, and she killed herself with hard work when my father failed as a farmer. That's about all her story."
"Oh, Jake, how dreadfully sad!" There was quick sympathy in Maud's tone. She put out a shy hand to him as they walked.
He took it, held it fast for a moment, and let it go. "A woman will always attempt the impossible," he said, "for the sake of anyone she cares for. You would do the same for Bunny. I saw that the first day I met you. I've seen it a hundred times in different parts of the world, and I guess it's one of the greatest things in life."
Maud uttered a sharp sigh. "I don't see anything great in doing what one must," she said rather sadly. "It is very nice of you to admire women, but I expect it is chiefly because you don't understand them."
Jake's frank smile appeared at her words. "I'm not disputing that most women need a burden of some sort," he said gently. "I guess that's just a woman's way. She wouldn't be happy if she hadn't one."
"And yet you want to take mine away!" The words were out almost before she knew it. She repented them even as they fell.
Jake's smile passed, and an odd, dogged look took its place. "I reckon that's different," he said. "You've carried too heavy a burden all your life. Do you know, Maud"--his voice softened though his face remained unchanged--"that first time I saw you, I recognized that look of desperate endurance in your eyes that my mother used to have? It cut right through me. And you were so young, which made it worse."
"I don't feel young," she interposed.
"I know," he made answer. "You've missed it all. But when you're stronger--happier--you'll find you're not so old. There are quite a lot of good things in the world even for middle-aged folk like you and me."
She uttered a little dubious laugh.
"Yes, that's so," he asserted, in that calm, confident drawl of his. "And that brings me round to what I've been wanting to say to you. I don't want to deprive you of anything worth having, but I am wanting--real badly--to make a sound man of Bunny as soon as may be. Reckon you're wanting that too?"
Her heart gave a thick, hard throb. "Of course," she said rather breathlessly.
"Yes, of course," agreed Jake imperturbably. "Well, I had a letter last night from Capper, one of the biggest surgeons in the world. I had the good luck to do him a small service, once, and he can't somehow forget it. Now he's coming to England in a few weeks, and he'll look me up. I've told him about Bunny, and he's sort of interested. Say, Maud, it would be a mighty big thing to let him examine the little chap and see what he thinks."
Maud's face was very pale. She walked in silence.
Jake glanced at her. "You'd be afraid?" he suggested.
"I don't know," she said, in that same breathless tone. "It--it seems rather soon. And suppose--suppose he failed!"
"My dear," Jake said gently. "Capper won't fail. He'll either tackle the job and carry it through, or he won't attempt it. That's the sort of man he is."
Maud dropped back into silence. The road at this point was somewhat steep, and she was gasping for breath.
Suddenly Jake reached out, took her hand, and pulled it through his arm. "All right, my girl, all right!" he said kindly. "We won't hustle any. I shan't say another word to Bunny on the subject till you have made up your mind what you'd like done. Now you lean on me! I'll pull you up."
She did not want to lean on him, but for some reason she could not at once withdraw her hand. They mounted the hill side by side.
Jake said no more upon the subject. He evidently regarded it as closed. As they turned in at length at the white gates, he said: "I was wondering if your mother could be persuaded to come up to tea if I went and fetched her with the dog-cart. We couldn't squeeze Sheppard into that if we tried."
She knew that he made the suggestion solely for her pleasure, and a sudden warmth kindled within her.
"You are good to me, Jake!" she said gratefully.
"Oh, rats!" said Jake. "Being good to you is all one with being good to myself. I'll go then as soon as dinner is over. Now who in thunder--" He stopped abruptly gazing straight ahead.
A momentary frown drew his level brows and passed. "Hullo!" he said, in a soft drawl.
Maud was looking ahead too. She saw a man's figure moving towards them over the stones of the yard; she heard the ring of spurs. And suddenly she stood still, white to the lips, panting, unnerved.
It could have been only for a second, that pause of hers; for at once she was aware of Jake's hand pushed lightly through her arm, leading her forward.
"I guess I don't need to introduce Lord Saltash," he said. "You've met before."
Yes, they had met before, met and parted, and the memory of it stabbed her to the heart. She moved forward, as it were mechanically, under Jake's guidance. She had known that this ordeal would have to be faced, but it had taken her unawares. She was unprepared.
But the moment she heard his voice, his laugh, her agitation was gone. There was a subtlecamaraderiein Lord Saltash's greeting that smoothed the way. She remembered with a pang that it had ever been his custom to take the easiest course.
With his hand holding hers, and his ugly face laughing its debonair welcome into her own, she could not feel tragic or even disconcerted any longer, even though with his other hand he clapped Jake on the shoulder.
"So you've gone and got married, have you?" he said, his eyebrows working with monkeyish rapidity. "How original of you! I won't be banal enough to congratulate. It's such a bore to have to reply to that sort of thing. Let me wish you a happy Christmas instead!Ma belle reine des roses, je te salue! You are more faultily faultless than ever!"
He made her a sweeping, cavalier's bow, and lightly kissed her hand.
She laughed without effort. "How odd to meet you like this, Charlie! I thought you were still abroad."
She was not even aware of uttering his Christian name, so naturally did it rise to her lips. It seemed to her suddenly that the old cruel barrier had been removed. Since they could never again be lovers, they were free now to be friends.
Surely the same thought had struck him also, for his odd eyes smiled intimately, confidentially, into hers, ere he turned in his lightning fashion to Jake, standing solidly by her side.
"You knew we were old friends?" he questioned.
Jake's eyes, red-brown, intent, watched the swarthy, mobile face without the smallest shade of expression. "Yes," he said, in his slow soft voice, "I knew."
Maud glanced at him quickly. How much did he know? Had Bunny ever confided in him upon the subject?
But his face, absolutely composed and normal, told her nothing. He accepted the hand that Lord Saltash extended, looking him full and straight in the face. And through her mind unbidden there ran the memory of that strange story of treachery that Jake had once told to her and Bunny. Looking at the dark, keen countenance of this man who had once been so much more to her than friend, she tried to visualize his double, and failed utterly. Surely there could be but one Charlie Burchester in all the world!
"What are you trying to see?" laughed Lord Saltash. "I carry neither my virtues nor my vices in my face, being long past the ingenuous age. Have we time to go round the Stables? Or is your Christmas turkey clamouring to be eaten?"
Maud shot a swift look at Jake who after a momentary pause said, "I can go round with you now if you wish, my lord."
Saltash made a quick grimace. "That's very obliging of you, Bolton. But don't let me interfere with your domestic arrangements! I can come over again later."
It was then that Maud very quietly intervened. "If you care to join us at dinner I am sure we shall be very pleased, and you can go and see the stud afterwards."
"What! Really?" said Lord Saltash. "Of course I shall be delighted. There are to-morrow's events at Graydown, Bolton, I want you to post me up with the latest. Sure I shan't be in the way?"
He put the question directly to Jake, who replied without haste or hesitation: "I reckon no guest of ours could be that."
There was nothing in his manner to indicate if he were pleased or otherwise by the arrangement. He seemed to be in a mood of extreme reticence, and Maud wondered as they walked to the house if she had vexed him by taking upon herself to extend hospitality to his patron.
But then it had been the only course open to her. Surely he must see that! She and Charlie were such old friends; they could not begin to be strangers now.
Yet the doubt worried her. Jake was plainly not upon very intimate terms with Lord Saltash. Or was it her presence that caused constraint? She wished she knew, but she had no means of ascertaining. She could only do her best, ably seconded by Saltash, to smooth over any slight difficulties that might arise from a situation that was certainly none too easy.
Despite her efforts she could not fail to note that Jake was more self-contained, more unresponsive, than she had ever before seen him, and for a time she felt her own manner to be strained and unnatural in consequence.
Lord Saltash plainly noticed nothing. Throughout that Christmas dinner he was just as gay, as debonair, as audacious, as he had been in the old days, complimented her with his usual effrontery, provoked her to laughter with all his old quick wit. She found it impossible not to respond, impossible not to expand in the warmth of his good comradeship. She seemed to be drawn into a magic circle of gaiety that could not last, that was all the more precious because it could not last. Bunny also was well within that charmed region. He was full of animation, eager, excited, even merry. She had an uneasy fear that he would pay for his high spirits later, but for the time she had not the heart to check him. She understood his feelings so thoroughly. It was so good to have Charlie with them again and to bury all the troubles of the past, so good to see the flower of friendship spring from the dead root of passion. so good to be on easy terms again with this man whom in spite of everything, she could not but regard as a kindred spirit.
They had always been sympathetic. They looked upon much in life with the same eyes. They had the same tastes, the same intuitions, often the same impulses. Yes, he had shown himself unworthy. There was a fatal flaw in his character. He was wild, lawless, immoral; but he was her friend. Somehow she could not feel that anything could ever alter that. They had been too near, too intimate. He had become like one of the family. She could not regard him in any other light. He had wounded her to the heart, but yet, with a woman's odd faithfulness, she forgave him, pitied him, understood him. Only upon that one point she had stood firm. Her innate purity had arisen as an angel with a flaming sword, dividing them. She had not been able to overlook his sins and marry him. She had known him too well--too well. Possibly even she had loved him too well also.
But all that was over now. The pain was stifled, the sacrifice was past. She could suffer herself to accept his easy friendship with no dread for the future. She could let herself be at ease with him once more, knowing herself to be beyond his reach. Once very sorely she had been tempted to yield to him, but that temptation could never occur again. Her marriage was a safe anchor from which she could never break free and drift out to sea. She could afford now to be kind, since henceforth no more than kindness could ever be expected from her. And it was so good to be with him again. With all his waywardness and instability Charlie Burchester was the most satisfying friend she had. He never wearied her. He always caught and charmed her mood. He was so rarely sensitive, so delicately alive, to every change of feeling. There was even something almost uncanny sometimes in the way he read her woman's heart, a feat for which he himself accounted by declaring that they had been born under the same star.
It all came back to her as they sat at the same board on that Christmas Day. It was just as if there had never been any lift in their friendship. The memory of the man's passionate pleading and her own anguished refusal had faded into an evil dream. They were back once more in the old happy days of comradeship before he had ever spoken to her of love.
Only Jake's presence held her to the present, and when at the end of dinner he rose to carry out his suggestion with regard to fetching her mother in the dog-cart she felt, as soon as the door closed upon him, that the old life she knew and loved had wholly returned. She and Bunny and Saltash were just children together, and they settled down to enjoy themselves as such.
CHAPTER XXII
THE FAITHFUL WIDOWER
Lord Saltash's desire to see the stud evaporated completely during the afternoon. He stayed and made himself extremely charming to Mrs. Sheppard, who returned with Jake, very fluttered and arch, to spend an hour--only an hour or Giles would be so cross--in her daughter's new home. And when she left again under Jake's escort it was already growing dark.
"I've got to talk business with Jake so I may as well wait till he comes back," said Lord Saltash comfortably, and they gathered round the blazing fire and sat in luxurious enjoyment.
Undoubtedly Bunny had enjoyed himself that afternoon, but he had begun to grow restless and irritable, signs which Maud had learned to recognize as the heralds of a wakeful night. She wondered with some uneasiness if Jake would be able to manage him with his usual success.
"You haven't got a piano here, have you?" asked Saltash in a pause.
She told him, "No."
In the old days they had sung duets together. She wondered if he remembered.
He went lightly on. "You will have to use the one at the Castle. You mustn't let your talents run to seed. Come up any day, you and Bunny. The place will always be open to you, whether I am there or not."
She thanked him for the thought. "We should love to come; I have had no opportunities for playing for months, not since we left London."
"No?" he said. "I say, what made your mother come to Fairharbour? It's a hole of a place to live in."
She felt her face burn in the firelight. She hesitated, and at once Bunny cut in.
"The mother always has an eye on the main chance," he said. "And she is a great believer in friendship. When things look black she always likes to hunt up old friends and give them their opportunity."
His meaning was not obscure. Maud made a quick movement of protest; but Lord Saltash's inconsequent laugh covered her discomfiture on the instant.
"Poor Lady Brian! I am afraid her luck and mine are made of the same rotten material. It tears at a touch. But I should have thought she might have chosen a sounder man than Sheppard of 'The Anchor' for a husband."
"Isn't he sound?" asked Maud quickly.
Lord Saltash laughed again. "I could sell him up--lock, stock, and barrel--to-morrow if I wanted."
She started. "Charlie! You don't mean that!"
He looked at her with a gleam of mischief in his queer eyes. "Of course I do! 'The Anchor' belongs to me, and all that is in it. It's mortgaged for considerably more than its value, and I hold the mortgage. Did he never mention that detail?"
Maud sat speechless.
He stretched out a lazy hand. "It's all right, Queen Maud. He is quite safe so long as he behaves decently to you and yours. He's something of a brute-beast, I believe? Well, if he needs any salutary correction, you must let me know."
His ugly face laughed into hers; the light in his eyes was half-mocking, half-tender.
"It's good to know that there may be something left that I can yet do for you," he said. "The worthy Jake may have a stout right arm, but he is not a Croesus."
He turned the conversation in his easy, well-bred fashion, and her embarrassment died down. But the carelessly uttered information dwelt persistently in her mind, even though she found herself talking of indifferent things. It was strange that all her affairs should be so completely--and it seemed so irrevocably--under the direct control of this man whom she had once so resolutely driven out of her life. Fate or chance had thrown them together again. A little secret tremor went through her. What would come of it?
She had not attempted to touch the hand he had stretched forth to her. It had fastened upon the arm of the chair in which she sat and rested there. Presently she looked down at it, her eyes attracted by the gleam of the ring upon it.
"Your own," murmured Saltash. "Violets blue as your eyes!"
He moved his hand in the firelight, and the sapphire shone in the midst of the diamonds like a deep blue flame in the heart of a leaping fire. He drew a little nearer to her.
"You sent it back to me," he said. "I have worn it--like a faithful widower--ever since."
Her heart contracted with an odd little pain. "Don't wax sentimental, Charlie!" she pleaded, with a difficult smile.
"Would you prefer me heartless?" he said; but he withdrew his hand, and the sapphire burned no more.
They began to talk again upon ordinary topics, and the conversation turned upon the Graydown Steeplechase Races of the morrow. Two horses from the Burchester Stud were running.
"Beauties they are too!" said Bunny, with enthusiasm. "Sam Vickers swears they'll win." He uttered his quick, impatient sigh. "What wouldn't I give to see 'em do it!"
"Why shouldn't you?" said Saltash. "I'll take you over."
"Will you?" cried Bunny, with shining eyes.
And in the same breath. "No, no!" said Maud quickly. "Charlie! Why do you suggest these impossible things?"
Saltash laughed. "I never suggest the impossible," he said. "Bunny--and you too--can come along in the car if you will. I can make him quite comfortable with cushions."
But Maud shook her head. "It isn't so easy as it used to be. And he gets tired so soon. Really--really, it can't be done!"
"Oh, Maud, do shut up!" broke in Bunny. "You jaw like any old woman! Of course I'll come, Charlie! When will you be round?"
Lord Saltash looked at Maud with an impish expression. "I am afraid you are in the minority,ma reine. But leave it to me! I'll undertake that no harm is done."
Maud rose suddenly from her chair. She stood upright and slender in the firelight. "I can't consent to it," she said with resolution.
He sprang instantly to his feet. "You don't want to come?" he said.
She met his challenging eyes with an effort. "Don't make things difficult," she begged in a low voice.
"But if I got your mother to come too!" he urged. "She used to love race-meetings."
She turned her eyes away. "Neither Bunny nor I can go," she said steadily.
"I say I will go!" cried Bunny hotly. "I'm old enough to do as I like, and I won't be dictated to by anyone."
Saltash turned back to him. "I'll take you one day, old chap. But the queen's word is law, you know. We can't go in direct opposition to it. Moreover," with audacious simplicity, "it wouldn't be great sport for any one if the queen herself did not deign to accompany us."
"She'll go fast enough if I do," said Bunny. "She sticks to me like a leech."
"Lucky beggar!" said Saltash.
He glanced back at Maud. She was still on her feet, turned partially from him. It was evident that she did not mean to renew the friendly intercourse that his unwelcome suggestion had interrupted.
"I must get back to my lonely castle," said Saltash.
She turned then, as he had known she would. "No, don't go--why should you?--till--till Jake comes back!"
He laughed into her eyes. "Now, don't try to persuade me that you want me any longer! I know the signs too well. I am going to walk down and meet Jake, as I must have a word with him about the animals. By the way, why don't you call him Jacob? The other is too frivolous for your august lips."
There was a sting in the smiling question of which she alone was aware. She knew that he had it in him to be malicious at times. But she would not seem to notice.
"Are you backing either of the horses running to-morrow?" she asked.
He raised his agile brows. "But, of course I am. Who ever went to a meeting without putting something on? And you don't suppose I would lay a wager against one of my own beasts, do you?"
"You always back your own before anyone else's?" she said.
"Of course," he made prompt reply. "We've pulled off a good many events since Jake took command."
"Yes," she said slowly. "He is a genius with horses."
"Oh, quite useful," said Saltash carelessly. "Well, good night to you both! Many thanks for your kind hospitality! Don't forget the piano at the Castle! Come and go exactly as you like! I will give orders to that effect."
"You are very kind," she said.
But the pleasant intimacy between them was broken. She knew that her refusal to go with him on the morrow had hurt him. He was in a mood to sting at a touch.
She gave him her hand with genuine regret. "Good-bye, Charlie!" she said gently.
He took it with a gesture that made her remember that his mother had been a Frenchwoman. "Good night,ma chère!" he said lightly. "When thou art dreaming, think of me!"
Her faint laugh had a note of bitterness. "But I never dream," she said.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE NARROWING CIRCLE
When Jake returned at length, he entered an atmosphere so unmistakably stormy that he looked instinctively to Maud for an explanation.
The room was lighted and the curtains drawn. She was sitting in the low chair by the fire doing some intricate crochet-work with knitted brows. There was tension in her attitude, tension in the firm compression of her lips.
Bunny lay on his sofa, hot-cheeked, fiery-eyed, beating an impatient tattoo with one hand on the table by his side. On the table lay the presents that he had received that day, a box of paints and sketching block from his mother, a book from Maud, a small telescope from Jake himself. But he was looking at none of them. His brows too were closely drawn. His teeth bit viciously into his lower lip.
Maud did not raise her eyes at Jake's entrance. She seemed intent upon her work. He came and stood beside her.
"I should have been back sooner," he remarked, "but Lord Saltash met me, and I had to take him back to the Castle in the dog-cart."
Her fingers moved very rapidly. "I thought perhaps you would dine with him," she said, in a voice that sounded very cold and aloof.
"Not I," said Jake. "Give me my own fireside, and my clay pipe that doesn't go into aristocratic society!"
She raised her eyes momentarily. "Are you a Socialist?" she asked.
His eyes were unblinkingly upon her. "I guess not," he said, speaking with something of a drawl. "I've seen life--lots of it--that's all. As to my politics, well, I reckon they're mine and no one else's. I think just what I like of everything and everybody." He turned those intent eyes suddenly upon Bunny. "What's wrong with the head of the family?" he asked.
At once Bunny burst into speech. "Jake, it's--it's infernal that I can't go to the races in Charlie's motor--to-morrow. He's offered to take me. Why shouldn't I go? Hang it all, I will go!" He banged his clenched fist upon the table with the last passionate words.
Maud kept her eyes upon her work. Her hands though they moved so rapidly, were not wholly steady. "He is not fit to go," she said.
"That's not the reason you refused!" flung back Bunny, who was rapidly working himself up to fever pitch. "You said No just because you thought Jake would be jealous if you said you'd go. You're afraid of him, that's what's the matter with you,--afraid of his finding out that you're still in love with Charlie."
He broke into his cracked, painful laugh, stopping abruptly as Jake left the hearth and stepped quietly to his side.
"Don't touch me!" he said, shrinking sharply back.
Jake stooped. His face was grim. "My son, I'm going to touch you," he said. "I'm going to carry you straight up to bed. You've had more than enough excitement for to-day."
"I'm not going to bed!" cried Bunny, his voice high and defiant. "I'm not going for hours yet. Jake--Jake--leave me alone, do you hear? You're hurting me!"
"Afraid you've got to be hurt," said Jake.
He was slipping steady hands under the boy's writhing body. Maud had risen. She came swiftly forward. She touched Jake's shoulder, her face pale and agitated.
"Don't, please, Jake!" she entreated. "It does more harm than good."
He did not look at her or pay the smallest attention. Bunny was already in his arms,--Bunny, purple with rage, waving his arms in blind impotence.
"P'raps you'd open the door for me!" said Jake, in his slow gentle voice.
She went to the door. Somehow it was the only thing left to do. Jake followed her with his burden.
As he did so, Bunny ceased to struggle, realizing the mastery of the steady arms that bore him, and spoke; in a voice of tense hostility.
"You beastly groom!" he said.
Jake said nothing whatever. He carried him firmly, unfalteringly, from the room.
Maud closed the door softly behind him, and went back to her chair.
But she did not take up her work again. She sat gazing into the fire with wide, troubled eyes. She was beginning to realize that old associations, old friends, could be nothing but a disturbing element in her life, beginning to wish with yearning sadness that Charlie had not come back into it. She was tired--so tired, so sick at heart.
As for Bunny, he had grown out of hand and would never be the same to her again. She was sure of it, she was sure of it. Nothing ever could be the same again in this new world that she had entered. It was a world of harsh realities, wherein dwelt no softening magic. The fate she had dreaded was surely closing in upon her. Whichever way she turned, she found a narrowing circle.
A long time passed. She began to grow anxious. What was happening upstairs? Was it possible that Jake might after all lose his temper and visit his wrath upon Bunny's rebellious head? Would he by any chance make use of that frightful language which she had heard him employ only a few days before to a negligent stable-boy? Bunny's bitter epithet dwelt in her memory. Surely Jake would be something more than human if he did not resent it!
And then suddenly she heard his square footfall on the uncarpeted stairs, and a great wave of agitation went through her. All her being quivered at the thought of him, his unyielding mastery, his utter confidence. Two eyes, one black, one grey, seemed to flash a mocking question out of the depths of the fire into which she gazed. Her heart gave a little quiver of misgiving that yet was oddly mingled with satisfaction. No, she was not wholly sorry that Lord Saltash had come back into her life. He was so subtly refreshing. He sounded deeps in her of which none other guessed. His gaiety of soul called back her vanished youth.
Jake entered, and she turned her head, masking her embarrassment with a resolute effort. "Oh, Jake, come and sit down! I am so sorry this has happened."
He pulled forward a chair and dropped into it. "The little chap is overtired," he said. "He'll be better left to himself for a bit."
He spoke in a quiet, temperate voice. She realized with relief that he had not taken Bunny's bitter outburst seriously. She took up her work again.
"He is always difficult to manage when he gets caught by one of these moods," she said. "And he is apt to say wild things."
Jake began to fill his pipe, making no comment.
Maud worked on for several seconds, still struggling against an uneasy feeling of shyness.
After a little, in a low voice she spoke again. "Jake, I think--with you--that if Dr. Capper will examine Bunny and--and perhaps operate on him, it had better be done--as soon as possible."
"That so?" said Jake.
She knew that he turned his head to look at her, and a hot sense of discomfiture surged through her. She worked with fevered speed, as if much depended upon it.
"Of course--of course I want him to have--every chance. I am not so selfish as that. But--but--the anxiety will be very hard to bear. I dread it more than I can possibly say."
Her lips quivered suddenly. She became silent, still desperately making stitches that she could hardly see. She had not meant to make any appeal for sympathy. It had, as it were, escaped her from sheer embarrassment. She had never felt more utterly ill at ease in Jake's presence than she felt that night.
He did not immediately respond though she knew that he continued to watch her with those lynx-like, brilliant eyes. But after a very decided pause, his hand, square and steady, came forth and stopped her fevered working.
"Sit still for a bit, my girl!" he said. "Give yourself a rest!"
She started sharply at his touch, but gave in at once, suffering him to draw the work from her hands.
"Say, now," he said, "when you married me, I made myself a vow that you shouldn't be burdened any more beyond your strength. This anxiety you speak of, will it be harder to bear than to see Bunny suffering and not be able to help?"
She shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears.
"Guess you're overwrought," he said gently. "Why don't you lie down on the sofa? P'raps you'd get a sleep."
She mastered herself with an effort. "No, thank you. I am quite all right. Of course Bunny's welfare comes before everything and always will with me. Do you know, I think I will run up to him and see that he has all he wants."
"No, my girl, no! You stay where you are!" said Jake. "I've got him in hand. Don't you go making more trouble!"
She glanced at him with quick uneasiness. "But is he happy? Is he comfortable? I never leave him for long when he is like this. Once he dragged himself right out of bed and on to the floor. He was worse for weeks after."
"He won't do that to-night," said Jake.
But she was not reassured. "He may. How can you tell? He can be quite violent sometimes."
"He won't be to-night," said Jake with unmistakable conviction.
"What have you been doing to him?" she said, with quick suspicion.
He put a restraining hand upon her for she seemed on the verge of rising. "Now, don't you meddle!" he said. "The boy will be all right; only leave him alone! He won't come to any mischief because he can't. I've tied him down. No, he ain't uncomfortable," as she uttered a sharp cry of protest. "I saw to that before I put out the light and left him to come to his senses. He won't hurt, I tell you. You leave him alone!"
But Maud was already on her feet. "How could you?" she panted. "How dare you?"
He rose with her, still holding her. "Now be reasonable!" he said, in a voice of soft persuasion. "I'm real fond of the little chap, and I'm trying to make a man of him. He knows that all right. It's discipline he wants and discipline he's going to have. Don't you get interfering! You'll do more harm than good."
"Let me go!" breathed Maud.
She was white to the lips as she said it, white and desperate. Her eyes burned like two stars. But Jake held her still.
"Say, now!" he drawled. "Aren't you a bit unreasonable? I've taken a lot of trouble to bring him into line. And, as I tell you, I haven't hurt any part of him, except his pride, and that'll soon mend. Maud, my girl, now don't act the fool! Don't, I say, don't!"
She had made a sharp effort to wrest her arm free; but he frustrated it, taking her two wrists very gently but very decidedly into his square hold.
"Let me go!" she cried again, her pale lips trembling. "How--how dare you hold me against my will? Jake, you--forget yourself!"
He was looking at her with a hint of humour in his red-brown eyes. They were shining too, shining with a hot intensity, as though the leaping flames of the fire were reflected there. But at her words, he let her go very abruptly and turned from her. He took up his pipe again, standing so that she saw only his broad back and gleaming hair, while she waited behind him in palpitating silence.
Some seconds passed before he spoke. And then: "All right, my girl," he said. "Have it your own way! I reckon he's your brother more than mine, and I know you have his welfare at heart. If you think it to his interest to go and undo him--he ain't uncomfortable, mind you! I saw to that--I shan't interfere either way. Do whatever seems good to you!"
So he delivered himself, and having spoken sat squarely down and pulled out his match-box as though the matter were at an end.
She stood irresolute, facing him.
"Well? Aren't you going?" he said, after a moment.
And still she stood, feeling the strain to be past yet not daring to relax her guard.
Jake struck a match and held it to his pipe, looking at her whimsically between great puffs of smoke.
"There! Sit down!" he said, after a meanest. "Leave the child alone for a bit! I'll go up to him myself before long."
Casual as was his voice, the force of his personality reached and dominated her. It was certainly not of her own volition that she obeyed.
She sat down again in the low chair before the hearth. "I know he will have a bad night," she said uneasily.
"It won't be any the worse for this," said Jake, with confidence. "And, now, look here, my girl, I want to ask you something--just in a friendly way."
Maud's hands clasped each other hard. There was no repose in her attitude. "What is it?" she asked, in that aloof voice of hers that emanated from intense shyness rather than pride.
Jake was smoking steadily. The heavy odour of his tobacco filled the room. "I don't want to give any offence," he said. "But it seems to me that Lord Saltash is on a footing of intimacy with you and Bunny that rather points to your not knowing the sort of person he really is."
Maud's eyes grew suddenly darker. She looked him full in the face. "I know him too well to discuss him with any--outsider," she said.
"That so?" said Jake, slightly drawling. "Well, that certainly makes matters rather more complicated. I know him, too--awfully well,--so well that I shall have to request you to keep the young man at a respectful distance; for he certainly won't stay there if you don't."
Maud sat tensely still. Several moments of utter silence passed away. Then, almost under her breath, she spoke. "Are you absurd enough to be jealous?"
Jake's eyes watched her unwaveringly through the smoke. "Would it be very absurd of me?" he asked gravely.
"Utterly." She spoke the one word with a free disdain.
He bent his head slightly. "Since you say so--it goes. At the same time, it might be well for you to remember that Lord Saltash invariably hunts for himself. He is not a man that any woman can safely trust. He has his points, maybe, but--he is not sound."
Very steadily he delivered his verdict, and Maud received it in unbroken silence. More or less she knew it to be true, and yet very bitterly did she resent its utterance. It was as if he had exposed to her the worthlessness of a possession which for old sake's sake she treasured though conscious that in itself it was without value. For she had never idealized Charlie Burchester. Even in the old days of close intimacy she had always seen the feet of clay, though in her fond woman's way she had sought to overlook them. It was intolerable to have them pointed out to her by one whom she still curiously regarded as a comparative stranger.
She had nothing to say on her friend's behalf. Reason warned her that it would be useless to attempt to take up the cudgels in his defence. And so she sat in silence, inwardly burning, outwardly calm.
Jake smoked on for several minutes, then quietly rose. "I'll go up and settle the youngster now," he said. "And you have made up your mind on the other subject? I am to write to Capper?"
She did not answer for a moment; her eyes were fixed upon the fire.
He paused beside her, and again there came to her that sense of warmth, of bodily force, that seemed to reach her from the very centre of the man's being, rushing out to her, enveloping her.
She made a slight, involuntary movement of withdrawal. "I have said so," she said.
He paused no longer. "Then so be it!" he said, and walked away to the door.