CHAPTER XXXV
OFFER OF FREEDOM
Slowly the dreary winter days gave place to spring. March came withgusty rain-storms that swept over sea and downs; lashing the waves tofury, blotting the countryside like a torn veil. March went, smilingand wonderful, with a treacherous graciousness that deceived all natureinto imagining that the winter was really gone.
At Burchester Castle, Bunny, lying perpetually flat on his back by thedoctor's unalterable decree, alternated between fits of bittercomplaining and fits of black despair. He suffered more from tedium andweariness than from any definite pain, and Maud found herself fullyoccupied once more with the care of him. The nurse was thankful to haveher at hand, for Bunny was at all times a difficult patient. And to bein attendance upon him was Maud's greatest joy in those days. Shewatched over him with such a wealth of devotion as she had neverdisplayed before, a devotion at which even the boy himself sometimesmarvelled.
Jake came and went, but he was never with him at night. The nurse sleptin his room and Maud in the one adjoining. Jake went back to his home tosleep.
He and Maud saw but little of each other. They met daily, but sheavoided all intercourse with him so strenuously that only the mostordinary commonplaces ever passed between them.
She saw much more of Saltash, though he was often away. His comings andgoings were never known beforehand, and he never intruded himself uponher. Only when she went in the afternoons or evenings to the music-roomand, propping the door wide, played and sometimes sang to Bunny, he hada fashion of coming lightly in upon her, dropping as it seemed fromnowhere, and lying outstretched upon the settee near her while he smokedhis endless cigarettes, and occasionally criticized.
How he entered she never discovered; he was always there before sheknew, and he never came in by the door. When she asked him, he wouldonly jest.
"Some day I will show you my secret chamber, _ma belle reine_. But notyet--not yet."
No intimate conversation took place at these times. They were seldomreally alone, being always within call of Bunny's imperious voice.
Saltash was very good to Bunny, but his company was considered by thenurse to be too lively for her patient, and she would not permit him tostay long in the sick-room. Her orders regarding Bunny were very strict.He was to be kept quiet,--contented also, if possible, but always quiet.
For that reason his mother's visits were also very brief. She did notoften come to the Castle. It seemed to Maud that her plump face wasbeginning to wear a harassed look, but there never had been anyconfidence between them, and she did not like to question her. She knewherself quite powerless to assist in the bearing of her mother'sburdens.
During that final month of devotion to Bunny she gave herself up to himso completely that even her own problems grew remote and almost unreal.She was upon the usual friendly terms with Charlie; but he was very farfrom occupying her first attention. So absorbed indeed was she that thememory of their brief conversation on the day of Bunny's operation,together with his mad, characteristic suggestion, had faded altogetherinto the background of her mind. It seemed somehow impossible thatBunny could ever cease to be the centre and aim of her whole consciousexistence, impossible that Capper and his miracles could so alter thetrend of her life's destiny.
Her feeling for Saltash seemed to be lying dormant, very far below thesurface. She was not thinking of herself at all just then. She was toofully occupied. Her feeling for Jake also was almost a blank. Now thathe no longer attempted to play any part in her life but that of passivespectator, she treated him without conscious effort as a comparativestranger. But all the time deep down in her heart she smothered thatnameless dread of the man that once had been so active. She did notwant to think of him; she instinctively restrained herself from thinkingof him. She had schooled herself to meet him without agitation. She hadthrust him unresisting into the furthest background of herconsciousness. And now she lived for Bunny, and for Bunny alone.
So that last month slipped away.
April came, but no word from Capper. A faint, new hope began to dawn inher heart. Was it possible that the sacrifice might not after all bedemanded of her? Was it possible that the miracle might even yet beworked out with much patience at Burchester? Bunny did not seem to bemaking much progress, but at least she was sure he was not losingground. He did not suffer so much as formerly, though his chafingirritability sometimes seemed to her to be even greater than before. Hetalked incessantly of Capper, urging Jake to write to him.
But Jake would not be persuaded. "Capper knows his own business, myson. You leave him alone!" he said.
And Bunny had perforce to accept the fiat. He never seriously attemptedto resist Jake. Their friendship was too near for that. Jake'sinfluence over him was practically boundless.
But he could not check the boy's fierce impatience which grewperceptibly from day to day.
It was on a warm afternoon towards the middle of the month that Maud wassitting at the piano, trying to soothe him with the music he loved,during the absence of the nurse, when the sound of a footfall in theroom made her turn. Saltash had been away for a few days, but she washalf-expecting him. He never remained away for long.
"Why, Charlie,--" she began, with a quick smile of welcome, and brokeoff sharply. It was Capper.
Her face must have displayed something more than surprise, she reflectedlater, for his first words, albeit he smiled whimsically as he utteredthem, were words of apology.
"So sorry, Mrs. Bolton. I shouldn't have taken you off your guard likethis, only I had a notion that being somewhat over-due, you might bemore or less prepared to see me."
She left the piano, and went with outstretched hand to meet him. "Youat last!" she said.
Her welcome was cordial, but it was wholly without eagerness. Her heartwas beating wildly, uncontrollably. She felt suddenly cold, as if shehad stepped into a stone vault.
Capper bent a little over her hand; she saw his eyes flash over her. "Idon't find the frog in attendance," he remarked. "Has he been shuntedfor a spell?"
She felt her colour come again. "Don't you want to hear about Bunny?"she said.
He smiled at her. "I know my own business so well, madam, that I knowall I need to know about Bunny," he told her dryly. "The boy is justmad to be allowed to try his strength, and between you and me he'll haveabout the biggest disappointment of his life when he does. It won't dohim any harm though, so don't you worry any!" He suddenly held up herhand to the light and surveyed it critically. "Say, Mrs. Bolton," hesaid, "what do you live on? Just monkey-nuts?"
She laughed in spite of herself. "I live very well, I assure you. ButI could never get fat. It's not my nature."
He grunted and pulled at his yellow beard. "Do you realize that you'velost pounds of flesh since it was first my privilege to meet you?"
She shook her head protestingly. "Oh no, really. It is yourimagination."
Capper shook his head also. "My imagination feeds on facts only. Jakeis not looking after you properly. It's my belief he is treating you toslow starvation."
"Oh indeed--indeed," she broke in with vehemence, "Jake has had nothingto do with me lately. I have been much too busy with Bunny, and he hashad the good sense not to interfere."
"Is that good sense?" said Capper, in the tone of one who does notrequire an answer.
"Besides," she went on rather breathlessly, "it's not Jake's business tolook after me."
"I thought that was what husbands were for," said Capper, with hiswhimsical smile. "It's a fool policy anyway to leave a woman to lookafter herself, and you're just a living illustration of that fact."
Her hands clasped his arm almost unconsciously. "Please--please don'tever discuss me again with Jake!" she begged in tones of distress.
He patted her hand with fatherly reassurance and passed the matter by."What are you going to do when Bunny is gone?" he asked.
Her
face paled again. "You are really going to take him away?" shesaid.
"To-morrow," said Capper.
She removed her hands with a gesture that was piteous, she said nothingwhatever.
Capper turned aside. "Maybe you'll take up housekeeping," he saidpractically. "If I dare to venture upon the suggestion, you would makea charming hostess."
She was silent still.
He glanced at her. "Say, Mrs. Bolton," he said, "I guess you'll thinkme several kinds of a nuisance; but your husband has offered me hishospitality for to-night. And I,--well, I have accepted itprovisionally, that is, on the condition that he can supply me with ahostess."
She looked at him in blank dismay. "But I sleep here!" she said. "I--Imust be always at hand in case Bunny should want me."
"Isn't the nurse in attendance?" asked Capper, with a touch ofsharpness.
"Oh, of course," she answered. "But--but----"
"And how often in the night does she generally call you?"
Maud was silent.
Capper's hand patted her shoulder again, paternally, admonishingly."Guess he could spare you for to-night," he said. "Pack your grip andcome home! Jake will be pleased to see you, sure."
She shivered. "It isn't home to me," she said.
"What?" said Capper. "Not your husband's house?"
The hot colour rushed up over her face. She turned from him. "Come andsee Bunny!" she said.
A few minutes later she stood alone in the music-room, gazing forth fromthe western window with eyes that seemed to search the horizon for help.
Capper was occupied with Bunny. The nurse had returned, and she was notneeded. The certainty of this was upon her, a dead weight pressing herdown. Bunny's need of her was past forever. Duty, stark andimplacable, was all that remained in life.
Ah! A step behind her! She turned swiftly. "Charlie!"
He came to her, a smile on his swarthy face, a gleam of wickedness inhis eyes. He took the hands that almost involuntarily she stretched tohim. "You summoned me!" he said.
Something in his look warned her of danger. His clasp was electric inits tenseness.
She stood a moment before replying; then: "I didn't so much as know youwere in the house," she said.
She left her hands in his. An odd recklessness was upon her, therecklessness born of despair.
He laughed into her eyes. "Yet you summoned me, most tragic queen ofthe roses," he said. "You weren't so much as thinking of me, perhaps?Yet subconsciously your spirit cried to mine, and behold--I am here."
He had drawn her close to him, holding her hands against his breast, sothat the quick, ardent beat of his heart came to her, sending a curious,half-reluctant thrill through her own.
She looked into his face of mocking subtleties. "No, I wasn't thinkingof you, Charlie," she said. "I was thinking of myself, hating the lifebefore me--hating everything!"
The concentrated bitterness of her speech was almost like a challenge.She spoke passionately, as one goaded, not caring what came of it.
Saltash was bending slowly towards her, still laughing, ready to takerefuge in a joke if refuge were needed, yet daring also, warily markinghis game. "Why don't you think of me--for a change?" he said.
She turned her face swiftly aside. Her lips were suddenly quivering."No one--not even you--can help me now," she said.
"You are wrong," he answered instantly. "I can help you. It's justwhat I'm here for."
She glanced at him again. "As a friend, Charlie?" she said.
He bent his dark head over her hands. "Yes, a friend," he said.
"But--" She began to tremble; the old dread was upon her, the oldinstinctive recoil, the old ache of distrust. She set her hands againsthim, holding him from her. "How can you help me?" she said.
He did not lift his head. "I can't keep you out of the furnacealtogether," he said. "But I can save you from living in bondage to aman you loathe. You will have to trust me--to a certain extent. Do youtrust me?"
"I don't know." Her voice was low, quivering with an agitation shecould not repress. "Tell me what you are thinking of! Tell mehow--how----"
"I will tell you," he said, "when you have made up your mind as to mytrustworthiness."
She controlled her agitation with an effort. "Oh, don't play with me,Charlie!" she besought him. "Don't you see I'm cornered--desperate? Ofcourse I will trust you."
He looked up at her with a wry lift of one eyebrow. "Being a case ofneeds must," he observed dryly. "Well, my dear girl, the case is simpleenough. You are ready to trust me because you must. No one else isunder the same obligation. Everyone else--the worthy cow-puncherincluded--knows my fascinating reputation. Disappear with me for a weekor so--we'll run away and hide--and all charitably-minded folks willjump to the obvious conclusion. The result will be an undefended divorcesuit, and I shall pay the damages." His smile became a grimace. "Thatis your road to freedom, _ma belle reine_," he said. "And think on me, Ipray thee, when that freedom shall be achieved! There are sunnier landsthan England where lovely ladies may be wooed by wandering cavaliers.And surely, surely," his smile flashed forth again, "having thus madesuch atonement for past offences as lies in my power, my queen wouldstoop to be gracious to me at last!"
He bent again over her hands, holding them pressed to his lips.
Maud stood mute. The audacity of the suggestion seemed to deprive herof the power of speech. None but Charlie could ever have evolved such aplan. None but Charlie--who loved her!
The sudden realization of his love went through her like a sword-thrustin her heart. She actually gasped with the pain of it. What hesuggested was impossible of course--of course! But how gallantly, andwithal how tenderly, he had laid the offer before her, urging no claim,merely--out of the love he still had for her--offering her deliverance!
But she must find an answer for him. He was waiting, bent in courtlyfashion, with that kinglike carelessness of pose that marked him outfrom all other men.
She looked at the bowed head that could be poised so arrogantly, andsuddenly her eyes were full of tears. She made a movement to withdrawher hands.
"Oh, Charlie," she said, in a broken, passionate whisper, "if I wereonly free!"
He raised his head on the instant. "But you can be free. I am offeringyou freedom. A little courage, a little confidence! Can't you face itwith me? Are you afraid?"
His voice was eager, his eyes were shining and boyishly persuasive. Hishands still clasped hers with a pressure so vital and insistent that shefelt impelled to suffer it.
She shook her head. "No, Charlie. It isn't that. But--but--mypromise!"
"Oh, what of that?" he said impetuously. "A promise made undercompulsion is no bond at all. You can't keep it and yet be true toyourself. The mistake lay in making it. But to stick to it would beworse than madness. Listen; Maud! You must listen! Your marriage isan abomination, and you must rid yourself of it, whatever the cost. Ican see--I have seen all along--that it is an absolute violation of yourwhole nature. You shrink from the man. I believe in your soul you abhorhim. You did it on impulse. He knows that. And you have repented eversince. Your heart was never in it. I think I know where your heartis,"--his voice suddenly softened, and his hand began subtly to draw herback to him. "But we won't discuss that now. It isn't the time. I amconcerned only to deliver you. And I am offering you such deliveranceas you can accept, a deliverance that you can safely contemplate withoutshrinking. The publicity of the thing need never touch you personally.You can live in seclusion till it is all forgotten. Maud, my Maud,won't you--can't you--trust an old friend?" His hands were drawing hercloser. His dark face, aglow with the ardour of his quest, was close tohers. "You want to be free," he urged. "And--my darling,--I want youfree, I want you free!"
His voice throbbed into silence. He was drawing her--drawing her. Inanother moment he would have had her in his arms, but she held back fromhim with quivering, desperate strength. "No, Charlie! No!
" she saidgaspingly.
He released her hands at once, and abruptly. With a species of royalindifference curiously characteristic of him, he veiled his ardour. "Itis for you to choose," he said. "I don't take. I offer." Then, as shecovered her face, he softened again, took her suddenly, very lightly, bythe shoulders. "Have I gone too far, queen of the roses?" he whispered."Yet he will go further still. It is that that I want to save you from.You must forgive me, sweet, if I seem too anxious. I am hard pressedmyself. I want you badly enough, it's true. But that isn't my mainreason for urging this. If you had married a man you cared for, I couldhave borne it. But this,--this is intolerable. There! I have done.Only remember, that I am ready--I am always ready. I shall wait for youby day and by night. Sooner or later--sooner or later, I know you willcome. Don't be afraid to come, Queen Maud! I will be to you whateveryou wish always. I only ask to serve you."
Rapidly he uttered the low words, still holding her with a touch thatwas scarcely perceptible, but of which she was so vividly conscious thatshe quivered from head to foot, every nerve stretched and vibrant,burningly alive, chafing to respond.
The wild impulse to yield herself to his arms, casting away allshackles, was for the moment almost overpowering. Her spirit leapt tothe call of his, beating fiercely for freedom like a caged bird viewingits mate in the open sky. How she restrained it she knew not. Perhapsit was fear, perhaps it was that old, instinctive sense of fitness thathad influenced her long ago. But the moment passed, and she remainedmotionless.
Saltash turned aside.
He betrayed no sign of disappointment. That also was characteristic ofhim. He saw no defeat in failure. He regarded it only as victorypostponed.
And his attitude said as much when after a moment or two he began tospeak in a light and careless strain of matters indifferent to themboth. If he had not squarely hit his mark, he was not far therefrom,and with that he was content. He knew her to be nearer to his levelthan she had ever been before. The Maud of old days would have viewedhis suggestion with the shrinking horror of a spirit that had neverknown temptation. The Maud of to-day was different, more human, moretruly woman. She had suffered, and her dainty pride had ceased touphold her. He had offered himself to her in the light of deliverer, andas such he believed he would win her. The odds were at last in hisfavour.
As for Jake, he might be formidable, but Saltash was no coward. Hefancied that when the time came, Jake would accept the inevitable. Inany case he was far too keen upon the chase to be deterred by thethought of an outsider like Jake. If any element of danger existed, hewelcomed it. If a thing were worth having, it was worth fighting for,Saltash never had in any one of his rash intrigues paused to count thecost, and certainly it was not often that the cost had been borne byhim. He snatched his pleasures, and he drank deep thereof; but thedregs he was wont to throw away. Once only--or possibly twice--had heever been made to drink to the bottom of the cup. And he did not stopnow to consider that on each of those occasions the cup had been firmlyheld in the hand of Jake Bolton.