CHAPTER XI
THE REASON
"You've only yourself to thank," said Capper. He tugged irritably athis pointed yellow beard. His eyes were moody under brows that frowned."You might have known what to expect if you had an ounce of sense."
"Guess I always was an all-fired fool," said Jake.
The great doctor looked down at him from his post on the hearth, and hiseyes softened a little. For Jake's dejection was very thorough. He satas it were in dust and ashes.
"Not always, my son," he said. "But I guess you've surpassed yourselfon this occasion. Well, it's done. She may get over it, but she won'tlove you any the better for it. It'll be up to you to make a freshstart presently."
Jake was silent. He was not smoking. He sat with bent head and loweredeyes.
Capper contemplated him awhile, till at length a faint glint of humourbegan to shine in his green eyes. He moved, and laid a long, wiry handupon Jake's shoulder.
"Say, Jake!" he said. "Don't take it too hard, man! Let it be a lessonto you, that's all. And the next time you want to whip a stable-boy, doit on the quiet, and there'll be no misunderstandings. Guess you'llhave to sing small for a bit, but it's not a hanging matter. She'llforgive you by and by."
"Why should she?" Jake did not move his head or respond in any way tothe friendly touch.
"Because she's that sort." Capper spoke with stout conviction. "Shewon't hold out against you when she sees you're sorry. Don't be afraidto tell her so, Jake! Don't hide your soul!"
Jake raised his head suddenly, looking full up at Capper with eyes thatglowed red and sombre. "You don't quite grasp the situation, Doc," hesaid. "She won't be sorry for this when she comes to herself. Shenever wanted to bear a child of mine. She loathes the very ground Iwalk on. She'd do most anything--most anything--to get quit of me. No,I reckon she won't be sorry any. She'll be--sort of--glad!"
"Oh, shucks!" Capper's hand suddenly smote him hard. "You don't knowwomen. I tell you, you don't know 'em!"
"I know one!" Jake's voice was deadly calm. His eyes shone like astill, hot fire. "I thought I could win her, though the odds were deadagainst me. I staked all on the chance--the hundredth chance--and it'sgone. I've lost. There's no sense in pretending otherwise. Now thatthis has happened I shan't hold her any longer, unless it's by bruteforce; and I reckon there's more lost than gained that way. And yet Iknow--I know--" his voice suddenly took a deeper note--"that where I'vefailed, no other man has ever yet succeeded. No one else has ever gotto the heart of her. That I know."
He spoke with grim force, as though challenging incredulity on Capper'spart, but Capper made no attempt to contradict him. He even nodded asif he held the same opinion.
"Then I guess it's up to you to find the way," he said. "There's abetter way for all of us than brute force, my son. There is a powerthat all the violence in the world can't beat. It's greater than allthe devils. And you'll win out--you'll win out--on the strength of it."
He paused. Jake's eyes had kindled a little. He set his hands on thearms of his chair as though about to rise.
"You get me?" Capper asked.
A faint smile came over his face. "You speak as one who knows," hesaid.
"I do know." Capper's voice was very emphatic. "It's not an easy worldto live in. It's a mighty difficult one. But we've been given a compassto steer by--a Divine compass, Jake, my lad. Guess it's our own faultin the main if we fail to get there."
He waited. The light was gradually growing in Jake's eyes. He had aspeculative, half-doubtful look.
"And yet you advised me to jump the hedge," he said.
Capper smiled somewhat ruefully. "I didn't tell you to burst your waythrough, did I?" he said. "You didn't take it the right way, my son.You blundered, and it's left a nasty breach. It's not beyond repair,mind you. But it'll take some patience and some faith before it's allfilled up. Set to work on it right now! You've got the materials. Use'em--all you know! Show her what Love--real Love--is worth! She's awoman. She'll soon understand."
Jake got to his feet with the quiet, purposeful movement of a man whohas work before him. He gripped Capper's hand for a moment, and lookedhim straight in the face.
"I reckon you're right, sir," he said, speaking rather heavily. "I'vemade a damn' muddle of the whole show. I was nearer to her--severallengths nearer--in the old days when we were just friends--justfriends--" his voice quivered slightly--"than I am now. Well, I reckonI must get back to the old footing. We'll be--just friends--again."
He turned from Capper with the words, went to the mantelpiece and tookup his pipe.
The doctor watched him for awhile silently. There was a greatness aboutthe man's simplicity that commanded his respect. There was even anelement of the superb in it.
"I take off my hat, to you, Jake," he said at length "You're a whiteman."
Jake's head was bent over his pipe. He made a brief, contemptuoussound, and rammed it into his mouth. "We don't all think alike," hesaid. "Well, I must be going anyway. So long, Doc!"
"Where are you off to?" Capper asked.
He made a gesture as of one who contemplates an unpleasant task. "Imust go up to the Castle. I said I would. I've got to tell LordSaltash how the Albatross failed this afternoon."
"But, man, he knows!" exclaimed Capper. "He was there!"
Jake turned round. His pipe was alight. He puffed at it grimly."Maybe he does. But it's my duty to tell him all the same. It mayinterest him also to hear that Stevens won't be fit for the saddle againfor a week or two. I'd have marked the young blackguard for life if Ihadn't been stopped." His brows suddenly met fiercely. "I'd have gotout of him what he did it for too--though I guess I know. When a hotfavourite like the Albatross gets left behind like that there's always areason--a damn' substantial reason--at the bottom of it. Oh, it's afoul business," he said bitterly. "I ought to have scratched soonerthan run the chance of having him pulled. I never trustedStevens--never. I'll see him drawn and quartered before he ever ridesanother horse of mine!"
"But you've no evidence?" suggested Capper.
"I've the evidence of my own eyes," said Jake bluntly. "And there'll befurther evidence presently, or I'm a nigger."
"What do you mean? He'll never own it."
"No." Jake spoke with a savage disdain. "He won't have the spunk forthat. And he won't have the spunk either to take out a summons forassault. He'll just take it all lying down. I know. I know."
He swung round on his heel to go, went as far as the door, then suddenlywheeled and came back.
"Say, Capper!" he said, and all the savagery was gone from his voice; itheld a note of pleading. "She'll get over it, sure?"
Capper's yellow face was full of kindness. He reached forth a hand thatgripped hard. "Please God she'll live to be the mother of your childrenyet, Jake!" he said.
Jake drew a sharp breath. "God knows I don't want her--just for that,"he said, with husky vehemence.
And then abruptly, as if ashamed, he pulled his hand free and departed.
Capper's fingers sought his beard as the door closed. "You're learning,Jake," he said. "You're learning. Wonder how soon she'll begin to findout that there's another man in the place where her husband used to be!"
He coiled himself down into a chair, bending and cracking his longfingers with meditative zest. But the frown remained between his brows.If Capper the man was satisfied, Capper the doctor was very much thereverse. He was not dismayed, but he was anxious, more anxious than hedeemed it necessary for anyone to know.
"She'll pull through," he muttered to himself once. And again: "She mustpull through."
But in his heart he knew that it was more than possible that hispatient's life might ebb out on the bitter tide of disappointment andmisery even when the worst danger seemed to be over. She was so lonelyin her trouble, so piteously bereft of all desire or incentive to live.
Up in the room above, Maud lay, white and still, her dark hair all abouther, her eyes closed, an aloofness that was almost like the shadow ofDeath wrapping her round.
Mrs. Wright sat by her side, very alert and watchful. It was growinglate, but she had long ago signified her intention of remaining for thenight. Very practical and sure of herself was Mrs. Wright. She and Dr.Capper were already firm allies.
The night was close, and the windows were flung wide. The door into theadjoining room was wide open also, and a faint current of air eddiedabout the room, stirring now and again the chintz hangings of theold-fashioned bed, rustling occasionally the white muslin curtains atthe window. The wash of the sea came up vaguely from the dark distance.It sounded like the far splashing of mighty oars.
Near at hand, down in the dim garden there came sometimes the mysteriousmovements of some small creature creeping stealthily through the bushes,and once or twice down in the orchard an owl hooted its weird,half-human signal.
Mrs. Wright did not like the voice of the owl. She shivered whenevershe heard it; but Maud lay as one oblivious of all things, drifting,drifting, on a great lonely sea on which no sun ever rose or star shone.
Someone came into the adjoining room and stood in the open doorway.Mrs. Wright looked swiftly round.
Jake's eyes met hers, he made a brief sign for silence. Then, withoutsound, he crept in and stood against the bed-curtain, looking downmutely at his wife's still face.
Several seconds of complete silence followed, then, quite suddenly, asthough someone had called her, she opened her eyes wide and turned herhead.
He drew back behind the curtain on the instant ere she could catch sightof him, standing motionless as a statue, not seeming so much as tobreathe.
A troubled frown gathered on Maud's face; she made a restless movement.
At once Mrs. Wright bent to her from the other side of the bed. "Whatis it, my dearie? You're not in pain?"
Maud was panting a little. She tried to raise herself, but was gentlychecked by a motherly hand. She took and held it with tremblingfingers.
"Mrs. Wright,--please--you won't go!" she begged.
"Surely not, my dear." Stoutly Mrs. Wright made answer. "I'm going totake care of you all night long."
But Maud was not wholly reassured. She clung faster to the plump,soothing hand. "If Jake comes in, he--he will want to send you away.Don't let him, Mrs. Wright! I--I can't be alone with Jake to-night."
She was becoming agitated, but Mrs. Wright gently hushed her. "Youshan't be, dearest. Jake wants me to be with you to-night. He is veryunhappy about you, is poor Jake. Dear knows you needn't be afraid ofhim."
"Oh, how can I help it after what he did to Charlie? Did you see? Didyou see? Is Charlie very badly hurt?"
"Charlie?" questioned Mrs. Wright.
"Charlie Burchester--Lord Saltash. Didn't you see what--what Jake didto him? Oh, it was terrible--terrible!" A great shudder shook her atthe remembrance of what she had seen.
"My dear! My dear!" Mrs. Wright leaned to her, smoothing her pillow."Why, what a mistake to be sure! And to think you've put yourself outlike this all for nothing! Dear, dear, dear, to be sure! That wasn'tLord Saltash, darling. Whatever made you think it was? It was just oneof them pesky stable-boys as he was giving a jacketing to; and richly hedeserved it, I'll be bound."
"Oh, Mrs. Wright!" Maud's voice was suddenly eager. "Are you sure? Areyou sure?"
Her dark eyes, wide and beseeching, were raised in earnest questioningto her old friend's kindly face. She clung to the sustaining hand.
"My dear, of course I'm sure. I came along behind you. I saw it all.It was that young dog, Dick Stevens. I know him well, never did likehim; and I'm sure he deserved all he got, probably more. Now youmustn't worry yourself any longer. Leave it all to old Mother Wrightand go to deep! Will you, my dearie?"
"You're sure Charlie is safe?" Maud said quiveringly. "He--he wascoming--don't tell Jake!--to see me to-day. But he didn't come. And Ithought--I thought--Oh, are you sure Jake isn't listening?"
She broke off in sudden terror, starting up as if she would tear asidethe curtain. But Mrs. Wright was swift to interpose.
"My dear, you mustn't upset yourself like this. It's very wrong. Whatif Jake did know? Surely he would understand. He would know that therecould be no reason why Lord Saltash should not drop in and see you in afriendly way now and then. Didn't you tell me you were old friends?"
"Oh, you don't know Jake!" moaned Maud. "He is so terrible--soterrible. He would shoot Charlie--if he knew!"
"My dear!" Mrs. Wright was genuinely shocked. She threw a sharp glancetowards the curtain. "But there is no reason! There can be no reason!You're talking wildly. You can't know what you're saying."
Maud had sunk back upon her pillows, white-lipped, exhausted. "There isa reason," she whispered. "There is a reason! I love Charlie. I haveloved him for years. And Jake--Jake would kill him if he knew. He doesknow--a little. That's why--why I am so--afraid. Oh, I wish--I wish Iwere--dead!"
She ceased to speak, and a dreadful pallor crept up over her face. Mrs.Wright, anxiously watching, saw that she was slipping intounconsciousness, and across the bed she issued a sharp command.
"Quick, Jake! Go and fetch the doctor!"
The shadow behind the curtain vanished. Mrs. Wright reached for a fan.The heat was intense. The darkness hung before the window like a pall.And the good woman trembled a little in spite of herself. She felt asif the Angel of Death had suddenly entered the quiet room to share herwatch.