CHAPTER XIV.
THE SPIDER'S WEB.
Now that Humphreys had his prey he did not know just what to do with it.Not knowing what to say, he said nothing, in which he showed his wisdom.But he felt that saying nothing was almost as bad as saying something.And he was right. For with people of impulsive temperament reactions aresudden, and in one minute after Julia had said yes, there came to hermemory the vision of August standing in the barn and looking into hereyes so purely and truly and loyally, and vowing such sweet vows oflove, and she looked back upon that perfect hour with some such foolingperhaps as Dives felt looking out of torment across the great gulf intoparadise. Only that Dives had never known paradise, while she had. Forthe man or woman that knows a pure, self-sacrificing love, returned inkind, knows that which, of all things in this world, lies nearest to Godand heaven. There be those who have ears to hear this, and for them isit written. Julia thought of August's love with a sinking into despair.But then returned the memory of his faithlessness, of all she had beencompelled to believe and suffer. Then her agony came back, and she wasglad that she had taken a decided step. Any escape was a relief. Isuppose it is under some such impulse that people kill themselves. Juliafelt as though she had committed suicide and escaped.
Humphreys on his part was not satisfied. I used the wrong figure ofspeech awhile ago. He was not a cat with paw upon the prey. He was onlyan angler, and had but hooked his fish. He had not landed it yet. Hefelt how slender was the thread of committal by which he held Julia.August had her heart. He had only a word. The slender vantage that hehad, he meant to use adroitly, craftily. And he knew that the firstthing was to close this interview without losing any ground. The longershe remained bound, the better for him. And with his craft against thecountry girl's simplicity it would have fared badly with Julia had itnot been for one defect which always inheres, in a bad man's plots insuch a case. A man like Humphreys never really understands a pure woman.Certain detached facts he may know, but he can not "put himself inher place."
Humphreys remarked with tenderness that Julia must not stay in the nightair. She was too precious to be exposed. This flattery was comforting toher wounded pride, and she found his words pleasant to her. Had hestopped here he might have left the field victorious. But it was veryhard for an affianced lover to stop here. He must part from her in someother way than this if he would leave on her mind the impression thatshe was irrevocably bound to him. He stooped quickly with awell-affected devotion and lifted her hand to kiss it. That actawakened Julia Anderson. She must have awaked anyhow, sooner or later.But when one is in the toils of such a man, sooner is better. The touchof Humphreys's hand and lips sent a shudder through her frame thatHumphreys felt. Instantly there came to her a perception of all thatmarriage with a repulsive man signifies.
Not suicide, but perdition.
She jerked her hand from his as though he were a snake.
"Mr. Humphreys, what did I say? I can't have you. I don't love you. I'mcrazy to-night. I must take back what I said."
"No, Julia. Let me call you _my_ Julia. You must not break my heart."Humphreys had lost his cue, and every word of tenderness he spoke madehis case more hopeless.
"I never can marry you--let me go in," she said, brushing past him. Thenshe remembered that her door was fast on the inside. She had climbed outthe window. She turned back, and he saw his advantage.
"I can not release you. Take time to think before you ask it. Go tosleep now and do not act hastily." He stood between her and the window,wishing to get some word to which he could hold.
Julia's two black eyes grew brighter. "I see. You took advantage of mytrouble, and you want to hold me to my words, and you are bad, andnow--_now_ I hate you!" Then Julia felt better. Hate is the onlywholesome thing in such a case. She pushed him aside vigorously, steppedupon the settee, slipped in at the window, and closed it. She drew thecurtain, but it seemed thin, and with characteristic impulsiveness sheput out her light that she might have the friendly drapery ofdarkness about her. She heard the soft--for the first time it seemedto her stealthy--tread of Humphreys, as he returned to his room. Whethershe swooned or whether she slept after that she never knew. It wasmorning without any time intervening, she had a headache and couldscarcely walk, and there was August's note lying on the floor. She readit again--if not with more intelligence, at least with more suspicion.She wondered at her own hastiness. She tried to go about the house, butthe excitement of the previous night, added to all she had sufferedbeside, had given her a headache, blinding and paralyzing, that sent herback to bed.
"NOW I HATE YOU!"]
And there she lay in that half-asleep, half-awake mood, which a nervousheadache produces. She seemed to be a fly in a web, and the spider wastrying to fasten her. A very polite spider, with that smile which wenthalf-way up his face but which never seemed able to reach his eyes. Hehad straps to his pantaloons, and a reddish mustache, and she shudderedas he wound his fine webs about her. She tried to shake off theillusion. But the more absurd an illusion, the more it will not beshaken off. For see! the spider was kissing her hand! Then she seemed tohave made a great effort and to have broken the web. But her wings weretorn, and her feet were shackled by the fine strands that still adhered.She could not get them off. Wouldn't somebody help her, even as she hadmany a time picked off the webs from a fly's feet out of sheer pity? Andall day she would perpetually return into these half-conscious statesand feel the spider's web about her feet, and ask over and over again ifsomebody wouldn't help her to get out of the meshes.
Toward evening her mother brought her a cup of tea and a piece oftoast, and for the first time in the remembered life of the daughtermade an endeavor to show a little tenderness for her. It was a clumsyendeavor, for when the great gulf is once fixed between mother and childit is with difficulty bridged. And finding herself awkward in the newrole, Mrs. Anderson dropped it and resumed her old gait, remarking, asshe closed the door, that she was glad to know that Julia was coming toher senses, and "had took the right road." For Mrs. Abigail was morevigorous than grammatical.
Julia did not see anything significant in this remark at first. Butafter a while it came to her that Humphreys must have told her mother ofsomething that had passed during the preceding night, something on whichthis commendation was founded. Then she fell into the same torpor andwas in the same old spider's web, and there was the same spider with thelimited smile and the mustache and the watch-seals and the straps! Andhe was trying to fasten her, and she said "yes." And she could see thelittle word. The spider caught it and spun it into a web and fastenedher with it. And she could break all the other webs but those woven outof that one little word from her own lips. That clung to her, and shecould neither fly nor walk. August could not help her--he would notcome. Her mother was helping the spider. Just then Cynthy Ann came alongwith her broom. Would she see her and sweep her free? She tried to callher, but alas! she was a fly. She tried to buzz, but her wings were fastbound with the webs. She was being smothered. The spider had seized her.She could not move. He was smiling at her!
Then she woke shuddering. It was after midnight.