The Hundredth Chance

She put on a dress of black lace when the supper-hour drew near. It made her look even paler than her wont, but she gave scarcely a thought to her appearance. Her mind was weighed down by far more serious matters.

Even the prospect of a tête-à-tête with Dr. Capper hardly disquieted her, and when she discovered him on the garden-steps of the parlour she went forward to join him without hesitation.

His greeting of her was full of kindness; there was nothing disconcerting about his attitude.

"I was just thinking about my friend Rafford," he said. "You remember him? And how mad he went over that piece of statuary at Burchester Castle? But, strange to say, it's not the anatomy that interests him any longer. It's the face."

She felt herself colour a little. "If it bears any resemblance to me, it is purely accidental," she said.

"Or rather, a coincidence," amended Capper. "It's a fine piece of work anyway. But he is nothing of a judge. Guess it's just the humanity of the thing that gets him."

"It's rather a painful study," Maud said.

"Ah, but it leaves endless possibilities. That is where the genius of the sculptor displays itself. Rafford saw that. 'The hotter the furnace, the purer the gold,' he said to me; 'if I had the naming of that work I'd call it The Crucible or Seven Times Purified.'"

"What a peculiar point of view!" Maud exclaimed, almost in spite of herself.

Capper assented. "Raff is highly imaginative. He has a very long perspective. A bit of a dreamer too. If it weren't for that, I should prophesy a great future for him. But there's no time for dreaming in this world. You must either hustle through or be content to stand aside. You can't do both."

"I don't like hustling," Maud said, with a smile.

He made her a bow. "No, you are English. But Raff has not that excuse. That's why I doubt if he ever gets there. He needs to be up against a thing before he considers it worth while. That's not the way to win out handsomely. It's the way to get whipped off the field."

"Always make for the crest of the wave!" said Jake's voice behind them. "You may get there-some day-if you're lucky; though it's more likely you'll be dragged under and swamped."

Capper turned to him. "Not you, Jake!" he said. "You're a born winner. I'm sure Mrs. Bolton will bear me out there."

Jake's hand descended upon his wife's shoulder. "Mrs. Bolton doesn't know my capabilities in that respect at present," he remarked dryly. "She has only witnessed the start."

Maud did not turn her head. "You are all invincible, of course," she said.

Bunny's advent diverted the conversation. He could think and talk of nothing but the forthcoming races at Graydown which had been fixed for the end of the week, and which he had prevailed upon Jake to allow him to attend.

Capper, though not particularly enthusiastic, was to remain for them, "just to see Jake come out on top," as he expressed it. It was taken for granted by all that Maud would go too, and she supposed she would do so; but she took no part in the conversation which Bunny found so all-absorbing. She was too occupied with the thought of Charlie.

There was no need for her to talk. She sat silent and abstracted while the protracted discussion went on around her. Bunny had learned more about the animals in ten days than she had discovered in as many weeks, and Capper listened with amused indulgence. It all went over her head, and no one seemed to notice her aloofness.

Bunny would gladly have sat up till late, but Jake would not permit this. He ordered him off to bed on the stroke of nine, and Bunny went without demur. He was learning to obey his brother-in-law without any thought of rebellion. Maud noted the fact bitterly. It was another proof to her of the despotic mastery of Jake's personality. He ruled them all.

She herself rose from the table upon Bunny's departure, and as she did so she was for the first time conscious of Capper's critical scrutiny. It passed almost immediately as he sprang to his feet to open the door.

"I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again?" he asked.

She bent her head. "I am only going to fetch a wrap for the garden."

He smiled and bowed her out.

Jake was in the act of lighting a cigarette when he returned to the table. He proffered the end of it to Capper, and as the latter stooped to kindle his own their eyes met. Capper's held a question that could scarcely be ignored.

Half-reluctantly Jake removed his cigarette and spoke. "It's the biggest problem I've ever been up against."

Capper puffed forth a cloud of smoke. "What's troubling you?"

Jake sat down heavily. "She ain't pleased-not any. Life is damnably difficult. I thought I was going to make her happy, but I've made an almighty failure of it. She used to just tolerate me in the old days; but now-she hates the very sight of me. The mere thought of bearing me a child seems to drive her clean crazy."

He ceased to speak and sat bowed in his chair, his chin on his breast, his eyes gazing sombrely forth under bent brows.

Capper was still on his feet. He stood cracking his fingers one after the other with meditative regularity. His eyes, very green and shrewd, rested upon Jake's head that shone like copper in the lamplight.

There fell a silence of several seconds; then at length with another great puff of smoke he spoke. "Guess it's just a case for patience, Jake, my lad. These things right 'emselves, you know, when the time comes. It's wonderful how childbearing softens a woman. And you love her. That'll make a difference too-when the time comes."

Jake did not look up. "God knows I do," he said slowly. "But you know, Doc-" he seemed to be speaking with something of an effort-"I don't fancy she knows it."

"Oh, shucks!" Capper exclaimed. "She wouldn't be a woman if she didn't."

Jake shook his head despondently. "I suppose I'm just a brute beast. She thinks so, and I can't show her anything different now. Maybe I am more flesh than spirit; but for all that she is the one woman I want, and none other could ever satisfy me now. But I haven't got her. Even when I hold her in my arms, she ain't there. And she has never kissed me, never once."

Again he ceased to speak, and Capper pulled at his beard and said nothing.

There fell a long silence between them through which the grandfather clock in the corner ticked with a melancholy beat. It was like the heart of a tired man.

Jake's cigarette hung neglected between his fingers which almost trailed on the floor. His eyes still stared before him as though they saw one thing, and only one.

Capper smoked with scarcely a pause. His yellow face was very thoughtful His cigarette came to an end, and he dropped it smouldering on to a plate. Then he turned and laid a kindly hand upon Jake's shoulder.

"Keep a stiff upper lip, my son! I guess she's yours for the winning, or she will be. It's no good trying to understand a woman's moods. You never will do that as long as you live. But she'll come to you in the end, sure. Give her all the rope you can! If she hasn't any use for you at present, it'll come."

"Will it?" said Jake rather bitterly. "I reckon I'm further away from winning her now than I've ever been. Once-it's ages ago-she came to me and cried out her troubles on my shoulder. She'd no more dream of doing that now than she'd dream of flying. She'd be more likely to-" He broke off short.

"What?" said Capper.

Jake sat slowly up. His eyes still seemed to be fixed upon some definite object. "I was going to say," he said, in a voice that had become peculiarly soft and deliberate, "that she'd be more likely to carry her troubles to Saltash. But I don't think exactly that. He's too crooked to hold a woman's confidence. No woman with any sense would trust him."

He grasped Capper's hand and looked up with a curious smile.

"It would be a pity to have to shoot a freak like Saltash; wouldn't it?" he said. "Reckon a good many women would miss him."

His eyes shone red for a moment, then he uttered a laugh that seemed to dismiss the subject.

"Come into the garden and see the moon rise!" he said.

CHAPTER VII

THE LAND OF MOONSHINE

The dew was thick on the orchard grass as Maud ran down under the trees. An orange moon was rising behind them and the shadows lay deep and mysterious across her path. The wind blew fresh from the sea, sweeping the wide down, bringing relief after the heat of the day.

She was trembling as she went, yet as she neared the trysting-place she checked herself and walked with some dignity. She did not want to arrive in a state of agitation. She was sure he would be waiting for her. She was sure, she was sure!

Yes, he was there. They saw each other simultaneously, and in a moment he had sprung to meet her with the ardour she knew so well. Her hands were in his almost in the same instant. He held them closely, lingeringly.

"At last!" he said.

Rather breathlessly she made response. "Yes, but I can't stay. I want to speak to you-only to speak to you-about my mother."

"Good heavens!" said Saltash. His hold relaxed for a second, then tightened again. "My dear girl, how absurdly prosaic of you to come to me on such a night as this and talk about anybody or anything on earth besides ourselves! I won't allow it and that's a fact."

She laughed a little unsteadily. "But it is just that I have come for, Charlie; and nothing else. And I can't stay either. You must let me say what I have to say quickly, and then go."

He drew her gently through the gate and led her to the summer-house close by that overlooked the down. The moonlight filtered in upon them through a lattice-work of leaves.

"Don't tremble, ma belle reine!" he said. "You shall go whenever you will. But need we waste to-night? I will call upon you formally in the morning if you desire it and talk about anything you wish."

She sat down with the feeling of one who moves beneath a spell, and after a moment he sat beside her, still lightly holding her hand. Yes, she was at liberty to go whenever she would; and yet she could not, she could not!

The witchery of the hour was upon her. It was not the first time that they had sat thus, he and she, hand in hand, wrapped in the mystery and romance of a summer night. Her thoughts went back with a bitter pang to the old dear dream. Ah, why had she sent him from her? She had obeyed the instincts of her soul, perchance; but she had wrecked her life to do it. Why? Why?

He was speaking, leaning to her, his swarthy face against her shoulder. "Maud, let us forget the world to-night! Never mind what brought you! Just remember that you are here-in the land of moonshine-with me!"

She turned at his voice; she yielded ever so slightly to the subtle drawing of his hand. "But let me speak, Charlie!" she whispered. "I am so troubled. I want your help."

"It is yours for ever," he made answer. "You have but to command."

"That is a promise?" she urged.

"My solemn promise," said Saltash. "Now-shall we forget?"

His voice was full of a tenderness that stirred her to the depths. A piteous sob caught her throat; she put up a swift, silencing hand. "Oh, if I only could!" she said.

"You can," said Saltash. He moved also, slid a gentle arm about her. "Close your eyes, dear heart, and forget all your troubles!" he whispered. "I can charm them all away."

She shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears. "I am caught in the whirlpools, Charlie," she whispered back. "I shall never get away. All the romance is gone out of my life-for ever."

"I can bring it back," he said.

Her tears overflowed. She could not hold them back. "I wish I were dead!" she said.

The arm that encircled her grew gradually tense like the tightening of a coil. "Come to me!" he murmured. "Listen to your own heart and come! What does it matter what lies behind? Put it all away from you-and come!"

She suffered his arm, but she yielded herself no further to it. "I can't," she said hopelessly. "I-can't."

"Why not?" he urged. "Haven't I waited long enough? Are you afraid?"

She bent her head, covering her face. "Oh yes, I am afraid-afraid. Life is so dreadful. It is full of-terrible consequences."

It had come upon her so suddenly. She had as it were stepped out of prison into a world of seething temptation with the passing of that gate. Never before had she felt so lured and drawn by that which was evil. The swift spell had caught her in a moment, and it held, – how it held her!

His arms were about her. He drew her to his breast. "What do I care for consequences?" he whispered passionately. "Come to me, queen of my heart! I have been cheated of my right long enough. Yes, my right-my right! You have belonged to me always, and you know it. Oh, what are we to fight against destiny? Do you think I don't know how you have suffered? Do you think I haven't suffered too? All because you loved me-and sent me away! You will never do that again, queen of the roses. You have called me back to you. You are mine. Turn your face to me, sweetheart! There is no love in all the world like ours. How can we resist it? It is greater than we ourselves."

But she kept her face covered, hidden low against the throbbing of his heart.

His words went into silence-a silence that was stark and cold-the very shadow of Despair. It bound them both for a while; then shudderingly she spoke.

"It is no good, Charlie. I can't do it-now. If I had known-three months ago-what was before me-I think I would have come. But the whirlpools caught me-drew me down. I realized too late-too late. I can't come now. I am bound-hand and foot-in outer darkness."

"I can deliver you," he said.

"No one can deliver me." The bitter conviction of her voice silenced even him. "It is what you foretold. I am a slave, and I have got to bear the yoke of my slavery. I shall never be free now, never as long as I live. I am bound to the oar by chain that-even you-could never break."

She moved in his arms; she raised her head at last.

"Say good-bye to me, Charlie!" she whispered, "and-go!"

He caught her to him. He looked closely into her quivering face. "You love me still?" he whispered, with passionate insistence. "Tell me you love me still!"

She seemed to hesitate as if reluctant or irresolute. She seemed about to draw back. And then something magnetic in his face or his touch must haw moved her; or was it the weird enchantment of the night? She gave him her lips without a word, and so he had his answer…

There came the click of the orchard-gate, the sound of a quiet voice.

"Come round to the summer-house, Doc! There's a fine view from there."

Maud stiffened in Saltash's arms as if turned to stone.

He set her free with the utmost coolness and rose. The next instant she was sitting alone in the chequered moonlight. He had vanished without sound round the side of the arbour furthest from the orchard-gate.

She sat with a thumping heart, waiting. There had been something almost eerie in his disappearance. She knew he must be standing pressed against the wall by which she sat, but yet his going had been so silent that-even though her lips still burned with the memory of his kiss-she felt curiously as though the whole episode were as incredible as a dream.

She made no attempt to move. Her limbs felt like lead. Only her heart raced so madly that she gasped for breath.

She heard again the quiet, drawling voice. "The gate was open. Very likely my wife is here."

A great shiver went through her. She felt suddenly cold from head to foot. She clasped her hands tightly together, striving with all her strength for self-control.

There fell the tread of feet upon the grass, and Capper's tall thin form came round the side of the arbour. He saw her in a moment, for the moonlight was on her face. She stared at him with hunted eyes. Where was Jake?

He accosted her at once. "Ah, Mrs. Bolton, so here you are! Say, do you think you're wise to sit here with the frogs? It's cold, you know. Where's that wrap you were going to fetch?"

She stretched out a hand to him instinctively. "Yes, I am cold," she said, and her teeth chattered upon the words. "Is-is-Jake there?"

Capper glanced over his shoulder. "He was there. But-Columbus! – how cold you are, child! You will be sick if you stay here. Come! Let me take you in!"

He drew her to her feet; then, as she tottered, leaning upon him, passed a wiry arm about her. As he did so, she saw Jake come round the other corner of the arbour and stop upon the threshold.

She turned suddenly giddy and clung weakly to Capper. He had seen; he must have seen! But why had there been no encounter-no challenge of any sort? Where-where was Charlie?

She went through an agony of apprehension during those few moments. She thought the awful suspense would kill her.

Then Jake's square figure advanced, blocking the opening. His voice pierced through her agitation.

"So you have found her, Doc. I thought she would be hereabouts. I see there is a mist coming up. We had better go in."

There was nothing in the words, but she shivered uncontrollably at the sound of them. That slow soft speech was as a veil that hid unutterable things. With a great effort she mastered her weakness and spoke.

"Yes, it has turned quite cold. I think it is the dew. Did you come here to admire the view, Dr. Capper? It is one of the best in the neighbourhood. I often think I should like to come and camp out here on these summer nights."

"You would want plenty of blankets," said Capper. "There is a creepy chill in the atmosphere that reminds one of the fall." He took his arm from about her, and drew her hand through it. "Come, we must go. It isn't right for you to take risks. A glass of wine before you turn in is what I should recommend."

She made an attempt to laugh, but she did not feel it to be a success. "That is Jake's invariable remedy for all ills," she declared. "But I thought it had ceased to be popular with your profession."

She emerged from the summer-house, holding his arm, but a new strength born of terrible expediency seemed to have entered into her. She moved without effort, Jake stepping back to let her pass.

"Do admire the beauties of it before we go!" she urged. "It is so romantic by this light. The Brethaven lighthouse is over there. It has a revolving light. Do you see it?" She turned and spoke over her shoulder. "Jake, come and show Dr. Capper all the different points of interest."

But Capper would have none of it. "I shan't be satisfied till I've got you indoors," he said. "What have you got on your feet? Nothing but light slippers? Say, Mrs. Bolton, you ought to take more care of yourself."

"Oh, but I never have," she protested. "I am wonderfully strong. Jake will tell you that."

"I think as Dr. Capper thinks," Jake said. "You ought to be more careful."

She felt herself flush. Now that her agitation had subsided, she was capable of feeling resentment once more, and there was that in the quiet utterance that stung her.

She made no rejoinder, but her face burned hotter and hotter as they began to walk back. She was sure-quite sure-that she had been made a subject of discussion between her husband and Dr. Capper.

Jake walked on her other side. She had the feeling of being a prisoner between two warders. And she wondered if Charlie were watching with that mocking humour in his eyes.

She set her teeth as the memory of his voice, his touch, went through her. She wondered with a sinking heart what she would have to tell him when they met again…

CHAPTER VIII

THE WARNING

Half an hour later Maud stood in her bedroom, waiting. The window was wide open, and the night-air blew in cold and pure, with a scent of dew-drenched roses and the salt of the sea behind. There was a large moth in the room. It had been attracted thither by the light of the candles, but it seemed to be dashing to and fro now in a wild search for freedom. She watched its futile efforts with a vague pity. But she was powerless to help it. Every moment it was circling closer and closer to the flame and would probably perish there in the end. She supposed it didn't matter. It was born to die in any case, and surely death was kinder than life. She had often thought so.

If she could have chosen death in that moment instead of this numb waiting for an ordeal which she felt would be beyond her strength, she believed she would not have hesitated. This continual battling against a will so immeasurably stronger than her own was wearing her down. The bare thought of an open conflict made her sick. And that an open conflict was before her she felt convinced. He had not chosen to confound her in the presence of Capper, but she knew that the reckoning was only deferred. She had come to know him as a man of unerring justice, and she had long ceased to hope for mercy from him.

Ah! She heard his step at last, and turned, bracing herself. The moth was flitting dizzily round and round the candle. Her eyes followed it fascinated.

Suddenly it made a headlong dash for the flame, there came a sharp crackle, and then the dull thud of its fall upon the floor. A great shudder caught her, almost convulsed her. And in the same instant the door that intervened between her room and Jake's opened; and he stood before her.

She faced him stiffly in utter silence. One glimpse she had of his face, and only one; for she could not look again. The red-brown eyes were alight with a fire that seemed to consume her even from afar. She stood and numbly waited.

He came straight to her. "So," he said, "you have decided to make a fool of me, have you?"

His voice was very low, but it had in it the sound as of an angry animal. There was something of the animal in his pose also, something from which her whole being shrank affrighted.

Yet she was not without courage. She forced herself to a certain calmness. "Will you tell me what you mean?" she said.

He made a slight gesture that seemed to cry aloud of a savagery scarcely restrained. "I guess you can do that," he said. "What do I mean? Tell me!"

She drew back from him with an instinctive movement of recoil, but on the instant, as though she had stepped into a trap, his hands came out and caught her by the wrists. He held her firmly before him.

"Tell me!" he reiterated.

But she took refuge in silence. She had no words.

He held her so for many seconds, and she knew that during those seconds his eyes remained immovably fixed upon her. She made no attempt to resist him. She knew beyond all question that resistance would be worse than useless. But she refused with mute determination to meet his eyes. Crush her, conquer her, as he would, he should not force his way past every barrier unopposed. Her submission was physical but not mental. She had always held back from him her soul.

He spoke at length, and still in his voice she heard that terrible, deep menace as of a savage force that gathered and gathered under the thinning surface of his civilization. "I reckon you think I'm easier to fool than I am. Old friends must have their privileges. Ain't that so? And if they include a little genteel love-making, where's the harm? Who is to raise any objection? Not the husband who has been too big an oaf ever to make love to you in his life! The husband who just takes what he wants and leaves what's over for the lover! He should be the last person to interfere, I reckon. Ain't that so?"

She shivered in his hold, but she spoke no word. Had they not always been utterly at variance with one another? How could she hope to make him see anything but evil now that his brutal passions were aroused? How could she ever attempt to convince him that he alone was responsible for the fact that temptation had become even possible to her?

And so she stood in silence while the dreadful force of the man mounted and mounted, menacing her.

He waited for several seconds for some response from her; then, at last, as she made none, he moved, drew her locked wrists behind her, forcing her slowly back till her face was turned up to his gaze.

She felt the scorching fire of the eyes she would not meet, and in a moment her whole body seemed to burn in a furnace of shame. The hot blood stung her from head to foot, pricking every vein. Crimson and quivering, she hung there in his hold, waiting.