CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE CANDLE LIT.
There is no more disagreeable sensation in this world than thatfurnished by a sudden encounter with some one with whom we are on"awkward" terms. Most people know what it is to cross the street toavoid an old friend, or to dodge into a shop in order to escape thenecessity of inflicting or receiving the cut direct. Very often theorigin of the quarrel has been forgotten or ceased to be of realmoment, but the awkwardness endures. Oftener still a reconciliationwould be welcomed on both sides; but pride, pride, pride intervenes.
Now the best solvent of stubborn obstinacy is a sense of humour. AsJuggernaut stood in the darkness, surveying the embarrassed littlefigure before him--in his eyes Daphne, five feet seven in herstockings, was always "little"--and feeling acutely conscious on hisown part of an irresistible desire to shuffle with his feet, hesuddenly and most providentially broke into one of his rare laughs--alaugh of quiet and unforced enjoyment.
Apparently this was not quite what Daphne expected.
"What is the matter?" she inquired. Her voice quavered pathetically,for she was highly wrought.
"I couldn't help thinking," said her husband, "of an episode in thehistory of two old friends of mine. They had been engaged for aboutthree months, when they quarrelled--severely. They parted company forever, and whenever he or she saw the other upon the horizon, he or shefled. However, after about six weeks of this sort of thing they weretaken by surprise. One day the man saw the girl advancing straightupon him down the street, quite oblivious of his proximity. He divedinto the nearest shop, which happened to be a baby-linenestablishment--"
Daphne gave a sudden gurgle of laughter.
"--And when the girl walked in, two minutes later," concludedJuggernaut, "to match some silk, she found her late beloved diligentlysampling Berlin wool. That did it! The sense of humour of that youngcouple came to their rescue, Daphne, and they walked out of the shophand-in-hand, not caring a dump for anybody. To my knowledge they havenever had a quarrel since. You see the reason why I laughed justnow?"
Daphne sighed comfortably.
"Yes," she said. The tension of the situation was relaxed.
"I want to--to talk to you, Jack," she continued, considerablyheartened.
"Certainly," replied Juggernaut, with a slight return of hisboard-room air. "I'll turn the light on."
"Please don't," said Daphne hastily. "I would rather talk in the dark.Will you sit down on the settle?"
Juggernaut obeyed silently. The firelight played upon his face,showing the clear-cut lines of his mouth and his tired eyes. Daphnestood erect before him, keeping her face in the shadow. She hadremoved her hat and furs, and her thick hair caught the lightfantastically.
"Jack," she began, industriously scrutinising the vista of the roomreflected by an ancient convex mirror hanging on the far wall, "I wantto say something. I want to say that I am sorry. I have done you aninjustice. I always thought you were a hard man, and I have discoveredthat you are not. In fact," she continued with a flicker of a smile,"I have found out that you are very much the other thing." Shepaused.
"May I ask for chapter and verse?" said Juggernaut.
"_Yes!_" The old Daphne flashed forth. "Here are you, fighting allthese men with one hand, giving no quarter, and all that sort ofthing--" Juggernaut stirred suddenly in his seat--"and feeding thewomen and children with the other! Aren't you, now?" She pointed anaccusing finger.
"Since you tax me with it--yes," said her husband.
Daphne turned upon him impulsively, with the firelight full on herface.
"Jack," she said softly, "it was splendid of you!"
He looked up and saw that her eyes were glowing. She came a stepnearer, and her head drooped prettily. "And I'm sorry if I have beenunfair to you, Jack," she continued. "I--I thought you were just afeelingless sort of man, whose work was his world, and who cared fornothing but himself and what he had in view, and regarded women asmerely useful things to keep house, and have babies, and so on. Butnow I _know_ that I was wrong. There is more of you than that. Beingme, I had to tell you."
She ended with a little catch in her voice. She had made her effort.She had humbled herself, and in so doing she had laid herself open tothe cruellest of rebuffs. She waited tremulously. A hard word, ascornful smile, even silence now--and two lives would fall asunder forever.
But the wheels of Juggernaut had never passed over a woman.
"Will you sit down?" said Sir John gently.
He made room for her, and she sank down beside him, leaning her headagainst the high back of the settle and gazing unwinkingly into thefire. She was conscious now that this man was overflowing withtenderness towards her, but she would not look him in the face yet.
"How did you find out about the rations to the women?" he enquiredpresently.
Daphne told him.
"But you mustn't blame Jim Carthew," she said in conclusion. "Hesimply _had_ to tell me."
"Where did you see him?"
"Last week, in Algiers. In fact, he brought me home; but I made himpromise not to tell you I was in London. He _is_ a good sort!" sheadded irrelevantly.
"In what way?" asked her husband curiously.
Daphne turned and surveyed him.
"Would you be angry if I told you--jealous, I mean?"
"What right have I to be angry or jealous?" said Juggernaut simply."In what way," he repeated, "has Carthew been showing that he is agood sort?"
"Well, in bringing me his troubles. That always makes a conquest ofany woman, you know. And in letting me take my troubles to him. Awoman always _has_ to take a trouble to a man, Jack, when all is saidand done--even if he is only the family solicitor!" she concludedhurriedly. She had suddenly skated on to thin ice, and she knew it.The man to whom she should have taken her troubles had not been thereto receive them.
"So Jim Carthew has his troubles like the rest of us?" saidJuggernaut.
"Yes, and I never suspected how he felt about them," said Daphne. "Heis fearfully reserved about the things he really feels, although hebabbles enough about the things he doesn't. So, when I was introuble----"
"What was your trouble?"
"I was lonely," said the girl.
Juggernaut drew his breath sharply.
"I am glad you had some one to be kind to you," he said.
Then came a long pause--the sort of pause which either brings adiscussion to an end or begets another, longer and more intimate. Weall know them.
Finally Daphne braced herself.
"Jack," she said, "I want to say something more. I didn't mean to: Ihave said all I came here to say. But I must say this too--now ornever. I--I--I was wrong to marry you, Jack. I didn't love you, but Ithought it didn't matter. I felt how divine it would be to be able tohelp the boys and Dad. That was all I considered. Then, when I beganto go about, and meet new people, and make comparisons, I--foundmyself criticising you! _Me--you!_"
"I wouldn't be too indignant about it if I were you," said herhusband.
He reached out deliberately for her hand, and continued hiscontemplation of the fire.
"Go on," he said.
Daphne, foolishly uplifted, continued--
"I used to think you rough and hard and unsympathetic. I began toprefer the men who buzzed round and murmured things in my ear. Andwhen people began to pity me as a neglected wife, I--I encouragedthem. I let women say catty things about you, and I let men make loveto me. That sort of thing has been going on ever since thetime"--Daphne's grip of her husband's hand tightened--"when you and Idecided--to go our own ways. I don't mind telling you now that it wasa pill for me, Jack. My pride----"
"It was a brutal act on my part," blazed out Juggernaut with suddenpassion.
"No it _wasn't_: it was what I deserved!" insisted Daphne, whosenature did not permit her to be repentant by halves. "Well, anyhow, Idetermined to flirt in real earnest now. So I began to carry on in anexperimental fashion. But I can't say it was much fun. Finally I didfall in love with a man,
in a sort of way--don't hurt my hand, dear;it was only in a sort of way--and I let him see it. Well, I got afacer over _him_. One night, under the moon, I tried to flirt withhim; and he--well, Jack, he fairly put me in my place!"
"What did he do?"
"He made me feel ashamed of myself."
"What did he say?"
"Not much that we need talk of now, except one thing."
"What was that?"
"He told me to go back to you."
"Why?"
"Because he said"--Daphne's voice dropped low--"that you loved me."
There was a long silence, until a live coal subsided in the grate.Then Juggernaut said--
"It was Carthew, I suppose."
Daphne nodded.
"Jack," she said, "Jim Carthew is the best friend that you and Ipossess."
"I know it."
They were silent again, until irrelevant Daphne enquired suddenly--
"Jack, what made you do that unpractical thing? The tea and sugar, Imean. It was only prolonging the strike: even _I_ can see that."
"It didn't prolong the strike to any particular extent," saidJuggernaut with decision. "Not that I care," he added with unusualinconsequence, "if it did. It made things no easier for the men; andit is with the men that the decision lies in cases of this kind."
"But it was so _unlike_ you," persisted Daphne.
Her husband turned and regarded her quizzically.
"Was it?" he said, smiling. "We all have our weaknesses," he added."Mine are women and children. I think," he went on with greatdeliberation, "that there is only one woman in this wide world who hasever suffered ill at my hands."
"And she is----"
"My wife! Listen," he continued rapidly, "while I make confession. Youhave spoken your piece bravely, Daphne. Now hear me mine."
He rose in his turn, and stood before his wife.
"I never knew or cared very much about women," he said. "I do notremember my mother, and I had no sisters, which probably accounts fora good deal. Also, I was brought up by a man among men, and I learnedto read men and handle men to the exclusion of all else. I was givento understand that women did not matter. I was trained to regard themas a sort of inferior and unreliable variety of the male sex. So Iconfined my dealings to men, and I found so much joy in handling andmastering men that my eyes became closed to the fact that life couldoffer me anything else."
"But didn't you miss female society? Most men can't get on without_some_," said experienced Daphne.
"You can't miss what you have never had, little girl. Perhaps if I hadencountered female society early in life----"
"But didn't you sometimes instinctively long for a woman to come andtake charge of you? Most men are so helpless and messy by themselves."
"Sometimes," admitted Juggernaut almost reluctantly, "I did. But I putthe notion from me."
"Shall I tell you why?" said Daphne quietly.
"I suppose it was because I didn't want to yield to a weakness."
"It was nothing of the kind," said Daphne with immense decision. "Itwas because you were _afraid_!"
"Afraid?"
"Yes--afraid! You would have nothing to do with women, because youtold yourself you despised them. We were a waste of time, you said--anencumbrance! The real reason was that you feared us. Yes--feared!Success was the breath of life to you. You had always had your own waywherever you went. You were the great Sir John Carr--the strongman--Juggernaut! You had never been beaten. Why? Because you had neverhad the pluck to try conclusions with a woman. Your excuse was thatyou were a woman-hater, when all the time you were a woman-lover. Youhave just admitted it, impostor! You were afraid that where every manhad failed to turn you from your own hard selfish way of life, a womanmight succeed. And so you ran away, and you have been running eversince. There, my strong man, there's the truth for you!"
For once in his life Sir John Carr, the terror of deputations, thescourge of unsound logicians, the respectfully avoided of hecklers,had no answer ready. The reason was obvious: no answer was possible.The victory lay with Daphne. She leaned back in the settle and lookedfearlessly up into her husband's face. For the first time in her lifeshe felt maternal towards this man--twenty-two years her senior--justas old Mrs Carfrae had predicted. She was utterly and absolutelyhappy, too, for she had just realised that she and her husband hadcome together at last. They were one flesh. The time for tactfuldiplomacy and mutual accommodation and making allowances wasover-past. No need now to guard the flame from sudden gusts andcross-winds. The candle was safely lighted, and, please God, it shouldburn steadily to its socket. The Safety Match had accomplished itstask after all.
Then she gave a happy little sigh, for her husband's great arm wasaround her shoulders.
"All my life, Daphne," said his deep voice, "I have thought that thesweetest thing in this world was victory. Now I have just received myfirst defeat--you routed me, hip and thigh--and I am happier than Ihave ever been. Why?"
"Think!" commanded a muffled voice in the neighbourhood of hiswaistcoat.
Juggernaut obeyed. Then he continued, and his grip round Daphne grewstronger--
"I think I see. I married you because I wanted some one to keep myhouse in order and bear me a son. (That point of view did not endurelong, I may say, for I fell in love with you on our honeymoon, and Ihave loved you ever since; but it was my point of view when I askedyou to marry me.) I thought then that it would be a fair bargain if Igave you money and position in return for these things. We could nothelp living contentedly together, I considered, under the terms ofsuch a logical and business-like contract as that. Well, I did notknow then, what I know now, that logic and business are utterlyvalueless as a foundation for any contract between a man and a woman.The only thing that is the slightest use for the purpose is the mostillogical and unbusiness-like thing in the whole wide world. And"--hisiron features relaxed into a smile of rare sweetness--"I believe, Ibelieve, _cara mia_, that you and I have found that thing--together."His voice dropped lower. "Have we, Daphne--my wife?"
Daphne raised her head, and looked her man full in the face.
"We have found it, O my husband," she said gravely--"at last!"
* * * * *
The door flew open suddenly. There was a gleam of electric light.Graves, the imperturbable, inclined respectfully before them.
"You are wanted outside, sir," he said, "badly!"