CHAPTER X
THE MISTAKE
The day fixed for the race for the Burchester Cup was inclined to beshowery. Jake was up at an early hour, and when he was gone Maud rosealso. But she felt too languid to bestir herself very greatly. She satby the open window, breathing the pure morning air, and wondering,wondering, what the day would bring forth.
Since the receipt of Saltash's letter, she had been making up her mind.That she must see him alone that day was inevitable, but she had formeda strong determination that for the future she would put bounds to theirintercourse. It could but lead in the one hopeless direction. Moreover,open friendship between them had become, owing to Jake's prohibition,impossible.
She did not blame Saltash for what had happened, but bitterly she blamedherself. She had been carried away by the moment's madness. Her feethad slipped. But the determination to retrace that false step wasstrong within her. For Charlie's sake, as well as for her own, she knewthat they must not go on. With fatal clearness she realized that it wasthe downward path leading to destruction. It had never attracted herbefore her marriage, that downward path. The care of Bunny had absorbedher life. But now that her life was empty of all but the bondage shehated, she faced the fact that her resolution had begun to waver. Shecould no longer trust herself to stand firm.
Sitting there, drinking in the refreshing coolness of the rain-washedair, feeling the sweet morning chill all about her, something of thatinnate purity of hers seemed to revive. Some of the bitterness wentfrom her soul. She was very, very tired; but after long meditation shehad begun to see her way more clearly. Perhaps dimly the future hadbegun to draw her. Yes, her life was empty now. But in a littlewhile--a little while-- A deep, deep breath escaped her. The memory ofMrs. Wright and her confident words of wisdom came to her. Her lifewould not be always a dreary wandering in a desert land. Prisoner shemight be, but even so, the flowers might bloom around her, within herreach.
A little tremor went through her. Ah yes, it might be there werecompensations in store, even for her. Her life would not be alwaysempty.
A kind of waking dream came upon her. It was as though a soothing handhad been laid upon her, stilling her wild rebellion, giving her hope.The kaleidoscope of life was changing every day. Why should shedespair?
When she descended to breakfast, she was calmer, more at peace withherself, than she had been for long.
She found Capper waiting alone. He gave her his quick, keen look, butcharacteristically he made no comment upon what he saw.
"I am wondering how I shall catch the boat-train to-night," he said.
"Must you do so?" she asked.
He nodded vigorously. "Indeed I must. I have trespassed upon yourhospitality quite long enough. And there is work waiting across theAtlantic that only Maurice Capper can do."
She smiled at him. "How indefatigable you are! Won't it wait a littlelonger?"
"Not a day!" declared Capper.
And neither of them dreamed that that same work would have to wait manydays ere Maurice Capper was at liberty to handle it.
They sat down alone to breakfast. Jake and Bunny had had their meallong before.
"There's no holding the boy this morning," Capper observed. "It will bea good thing now when you can get him off to school, Mrs. Bolton. He'llgrow quicker there than anywhere."
Maud looked up quickly. "You think so?"
He smiled. "I have told Jake so. He, I believe, is waiting till theseall-absorbing races are over to consult you on the subject."
Maud's eyes fell. "He won't do that," she said, in a low voice. "Heand Bunny will settle it between them, and I shall be told afterwards."
"That so?" said Capper. "Then, if I may take the liberty to advise you,madam, I should consult them first."
She shook her head in silence. How could she even begin to tell Capperof the utter lack of sympathy between herself and Jake?
"And you really think he is fit to go to school, and fend for himself?"she asked, after a moment.
"Do him all the good in the world," said Capper. He added kindly:"Guess you'll miss him some, my dear; but believe me you won't be sorrywhen you see what it does for him."
"Oh no, I shall never be sorry on his account," she said.
And there the subject ended, but before she left the breakfast table shefound an opportunity to acquaint him with her decision to remain at homethat day.
He expressed regret but not surprise. "You are wise not to overtireyourself," he said.
She became aware again of the green eyes surveying her for a moment, andcoloured. "I--am not sleeping very well," she said, with an effort.
He nodded as one who fully understood. "Take things easily!" he said."Don't fret over 'em! Let the world go by!"
She got up, moved by an impulse curiously insistent. "Dr. Capper," shesaid, "it--it's rather a difficult world, isn't it?"
Her voice had a quiver of wistfulness in it. He reached out a hand atonce that sought and held hers. "My dear Mrs. Bolton," he said, "welive too hard--all of us. That's nine-tenths of the trouble. It'sbecause we won't trust the Hand on the helm. We're all so mightyanxious to do our own steering, and we don't know a thing about it."
The hold of the thin yellow fingers was full of kindly comfort. Therewas nothing disconcerting in the shrewd green eyes that looked intohers.
"I think you'll be happier presently, you know," he said. "It seems tome that two people I'm mighty fond of have got wandering off theirbearings in the wilderness. They'll find each other presently and then,I guess, that same wilderness will blossom into a garden and they'llsettle down in comfort and enjoy themselves."
He pressed her hand, and released it, making it evident that he had nointention of pursuing the matter further without definite encouragement.And Maud gave him none. Something in her shrank from doing so. He wasJake's friend before he was hers.
The day seemed very long. It was oppressive also, gleams of sunshinealternating with occasional heavy thunder showers.
She was lying in a hammock-chair under the trees in the orchard withChops at her feet when Jake came striding through at the last moment tofind her.
"Capper tells me you don't feel up to coming," he said.
She barely glanced up from the book in her lap, she did not want to meethis eyes. "I didn't tell him so," she said.
"But it is so?" insisted Jake.
"I have decided not to come, certainly," she said, feeling her heartjerk apprehensively as she made the statement.
He stood a moment in silence, then bent unexpectedly, took her by thechin, and turned her face up to his own. It was flooded with scarlet onthe instant; her eyes flinched away from his.
He held her so for several seconds, looking at her, mercilessly watchingthat agonizing blush, till it faded under his eyes, leaving her white tothe lips. Then, without another word, he let her go.
She heard the jingle of his spurs as he went away, and for a long timeafter she lay as he had left her, too unnerved to move. What could heknow? How much did he suspect? She felt cold to the very heart of her,stricken and sick with fear. He had not so much as kissed her in hisbrutal, domineering way, and that fact disquieted her more than anyother. Though she hated the touch of his lips she would have welcomedit thankfully in that hour of sickening apprehension only to feelreassured and safe.
The patter of rain roused her to activity and drove her back to thehouse, in time to meet Mrs. Lovelace hastening forth with an umbrella toher rescue.
"You shouldn't be sitting out there, ma'am, on a day like this," the oldwoman said. "And, lawk-a-massy, you do look bad!"
Maud tried to smile. "I am not bad, Mrs. Lovelace. It's only the heat."
Mrs. Lovelace pursed her lips and looked severely incredulous. "You'dbest lie down, ma'am," she said. "I'll bring your lunch immediately."
She bustled away, and Maud sank on the couch in the parlour an
d stroveto compose herself. But she could not with that awful fear coiled likea snake about her heart. A terrible restlessness possessed her. It wasimpossible to remain still.
If she could only send a message to Charlie, warning him not to come!But that was impossible. She knew that no message could reach him now.He would have to come, and Jake would know of it. Manoeuvre as shemight, those lynx-eyes would wrest from her the secret. She knewherself powerless to withstand them.
She made scarcely any pretence to eat the luncheon that Mrs. Lovelacebrought her. She had never before been in such a ferment ofdisquietude. Those few awful moments of Jake's silent scrutiny hadshaken her to the very foundations of her being. She felt that he hadruthlessly forced his way past her defences and looked upon her nakedsoul. And she realized that he had spoken the truth when he had saidthat she could not deceive him. He could tear her reserve from her likea garment and expose her most secret thoughts.
She spent most of the afternoon in pacing to and fro, for she could notrest. Her feet were soaked with the drenched orchard grass, but she didnot know it. Her limbs were strung to a feverish activity. There weretimes when she thought she would go mad.
The hours crawled by leaden-footed. She did not know in the least whenCharlie would come, but she began to expect him long before he couldpossibly arrive, and the waiting became a torment that chafed herintolerably. If he would only come soon--so that she might make herpetition and let him go!
Back and forth, back and forth, she wandered, conscious sometimes of adreadful, physical sinking, but for the most part too torn with anxietyto be aware of anything else. And Chops paced with her in mute sympathywith her distress.
The afternoon was beginning to wane towards evening when Mrs. Lovelacecame forth once more in search of her--Mrs. Lovelace with prim, setlips, sternly disapproving.
"You'll make yourself bad if you go on, ma'am," she said. "And if youplease, Mrs. Wright is here, and I'm laying the cloth for tea."
"Mrs. Wright!" Maud looked at her with dazed eyes, bringing herthoughts back as it were from afar.
"There she is!" said Mrs. Lovelace.
And even as she spoke Maud caught sight of the comfortable, portlyfigure standing on the steps.
She gave a gasp that was almost a cry, and began to hasten towards her.
Mrs. Wright on her part bustled down to meet her. "Don't hurry, my dear,don't! I've only just come. Why, how tired and white you look! There!Run along, Sarah, and get the tea, like a good soul! I'll take care ofMrs. Bolton."
Her arm was already around Maud's waist; she looked up at her with roundeyes full of kindly concern.
Maud bent to kiss her. "How--good of you to come!" she said.
She herself was divided between relief and dismay; but the reliefpredominated. It would not matter now if Charlie came. She would haveto write to him on her mother's behalf. It was the only way. Shebelieved she could evade Jake's vigilance with a letter--so long asCharlie did not write to her. The anguish through which she had passedhad made her realize that she must not, could not, take such a riskagain.
She clung to Mrs. Wright as to a deliverer. "Thank you for coming!" shesaid.
Mrs. Wright had begun to steer sturdily for the house. "Lor' bless you,dear, I'm as pleased as anything to come," she said. "Jake dropped inthis morning casual-like, and happened to pass the remark as they wasall going to the races but you. So I sent down to Tom's young lady tobe so kind as to come and mind the shop for me this afternoon, and afterdinner I dressed myself and came along to keep you company. I couldhave got here an hour ago, but I thought as you'd be resting, and I knewas Sarah would be busy."
So it was Jake's doing! He had taken this step to circumvent her. Maudwas conscious of a throb of anger against him, but her visitor'sguileless chatter made her stifle it. Mrs. Wright was so obviouslyunsuspecting.
They ascended the steps together, Mrs. Wright's arm stoutly assistingher. Then in the parlour she turned and looked at Maud.
"If I was you, my dearie, I should lie right down and have a rest. AndI'll give you a drop of brandy in your tea."
She sank upon the sofa without protest. The reaction from those hoursof feverish suspense was upon her. She felt exhausted in mind and body.
Mrs. Wright attended upon her with the utmost kindness. She did not talka great deal, for which forbearance Maud was mutely thankful. She wasso unutterably tired, too tired even to protest against that drop ofbrandy in her tea upon which Mrs. Wright insisted.
Another hour went by, but there was no sign of Saltash's coming. Theevening was turning dark and wet. Maud lay on her sofa, sometimesdozing, sometimes talking abstractedly to her visitor. For Mrs. Wrightwas determined to remain till Jake returned, and briskly said so. Mauddid not want to combat the decision. She was glad to have her there.It seemed that Charlie was not coming after all. Something had detainedhim. Her anxiety had spent itself, but she felt terribly weak. Thecomfort of the old woman's tender care was too great to refuse.
She scarcely knew how the time went, so overpowering was the languorthat possessed her. The rainy sky brought down an early dusk longbefore the setting of the sun. A brooding stillness hung upon allthings through which the patter of the rain sounded with unvaryingmonotony.
"Deary me! They will get wet," sighed Mrs. Wright.
Slowly the heavy clouds gathered and hung! Slowly the darknessdeepened.
Suddenly Maud raised herself, sat up, tensely listened. "What is that?"she said.
Mrs. Wright looked at her. "I hear nothing but the rain, dear."
Maud broke in upon her impatiently. "Yes, that--that--that! Don't youhear? What is it? O God, what is it?"
Her voice rose wildly. In a moment she had sprung from her couch andwas standing with caught breath, listening.
"My dearie, it's only the rain," said Mrs. Wright soothingly. "Don'tlet yourself get jumpy! There's nothing there."
But Maud paid no attention to her. With a movement incredibly swift shereached the door and threw it open.
Then indeed Mrs. Wright heard sounds, muffled but undeniable, of somecommotion in the stable-yard. "I expect they've just got home, dear,"she said. "And very wet they'll be. Hadn't you better tell Sarah toget a nice hot brew of tea ready for 'em? Little Sir Brian will be sureto want his tea."
But the rush of Maud's feet along the oaken passage was her only answer.The girl went like the wind, urged by the most awful fear she had everknown.
The front door was open. Bunny was on the step. But she brushed pasthim without so much as seeing him, tearing forth bare-headed,ashen-faced, into the rain.
For there in the murky twilight, terrible as a lion newly roused, stoodJake, gripping by the collar a struggling, writhing figure, the while headministered to it as sound a horse-whipping as his great strength couldaccomplish. His right arm moved slowly, with a deliberate regularityunspeakably horrible to behold. She had a glimpse--only a glimpse--ofhis face, and the savage cruelty of it was such that it seemed no longerhuman. Of his victim she saw very little, but of his identity not thesmallest doubt existed in her mind; and as the sound of those awfulblows reached her, the last shred of her endurance was torn away. Sheshrieked and shrieked again as she ran.
Those shrieks reached Jake as the cry of its mate in distress mightreach an animal intent upon its prey. He flung the prey from him on theinstant and wheeled. He met her a full ten yards from the spot, just asher feet slipped on the wet stones of the yard. He caught her--shealmost fell against him--and held her hard in his arms.
She was sobbing terribly, utterly unstrung, hysterical. She struggledfor speech, but the wild sounds that left her lips were whollyunintelligible. She struggled to free herself, but her strength wasgone. In the end, her knees suddenly gave way under her. She collapsedwith a gasping cry. And Jake, stooping, raised her, and bore her insenseless out of the drenching rain.