CHAPTER VIII
THE OFFER
In many respects the change from their lodgings up the hill to theAnchor Hotel by the fishing-quay was for the better, and as the dayswent on and winter drew near Maud realized this. Bunny's room had asouthern aspect, and it was only on dull days that they needed a firebefore evening. It possessed a French window also, which was an immenseadvantage; for it was perfectly easy to wheel him out on to the stoneverandah outside it, and here he would lie in his own sheltered cornerfor hours; watching the sea and the shore and the passers-by, andsometimes talking to the very infrequent visitors who came at thatseason to "The Anchor."
He and Maud lived their lives apart from the rest of the establishment,an arrangement which Mrs. Sheppard deplored although she knew it to bean eminently wise one. Her husband, who never lost an opportunity torevile the girl who always treated him with the same aloof distance ofmanner, bitterly resented the circumstance that so limited his chancesof what he styled "taking her down a peg." He hated her with therancorous and cruel hatred of conscious inferiority, savagely repentinghis undertaking to provide for her. They did not often clash becauseMaud steadfastly avoided him. And this also he resented, for he was ineffect simply biding his time to drive her away. She was a perpetualthorn in his side, and he seized every chance that presented itself ofinflicting some minor humiliation upon her. His antipathy had becomealmost an obsession, and he never saw her without flinging some gibingtaunt in her direction.
And those taunts of his rankled deep. Maud's feelings towards him wereof a very deadly order. If she had not avoided him, she knew that shecould not have remained. But for Bunny's sake she endured his insultswhen contact with him became inevitable. She could not be separatedfrom Bunny, and she knew of no other haven.
Towards Bunny, Sheppard displayed no ill feeling. He had small cause todo so, for the boy was kept rigorously out of his way, and his motherwas more than willing to leave the entire care of him to Maud. In factthere were sometimes whole days on which she scarcely saw him. Thechange that Maud had foretold on her wedding-day had already begun inher. She had quitted her own world without a pang, and was sunningherself in the warmth of her husband's rough devotion. As she herselfexpressed it, she was getting really fond of Giles, whose brutishaffection for her was patent to all.
Maud suppressed a shudder whenever she encountered any evidence of it,and as a result he was always noisier and coarser in his demonstrationsbefore her face of white disgust. What wonder that she rigidly avoidedhim and insisted upon taking all her meals with Bunny?
In this way she avoided his loud-voiced friends also,--another frequentcause for offence!--all, that is, save one. That one was Jake Bolton;and, since Bunny had so decreed it, this man came and went exactly as hechose.
She never raised the smallest objection to his presence, but shecertainly never welcomed him. In fact she generally took advantage ofhis coming to leave Bunny for a space and it even became a recognizedthing between them that she should avail herself of the leisure thusprovided to run down to the shore for the brief recreation which wasnever obtainable in any other way.
Very often she would not return until after Jake's departure, and so onthe whole, though they met so frequently, she actually saw but little ofhim. He was Bunny's pal, and--obedient to the inner warning--she wasfirmly determined that he should never become hers.
He did not seem inclined to combat this determination, but on the otherhand he never relinquished by a hair's breadth the position he had takenup at the beginning of their acquaintance. It was impossible to snubhim. He never heard a snub. He never advanced, and he never retreated.He simply stood firm, so that after a time her uneasiness began to diedown almost in spite of her, and she even came to look upon him in avery guarded way as a friend in need. He could do anything in the worldwith Bunny, and though she was half-suspicious of his influence shecould not deny that he invariably exercised it in the right direction.He had even begun to implant in Bunny a wholly novel and sometimesalmost disconcerting consideration for herself. Bunny was moretractable just then than he had ever been before. It was the onlybright spot in her sky.
It was on an afternoon in late November that she went down to the shoreduring one of Jake Bolton's visits to her brother, and watched thefishing-fleet come in through a blur of rain. The beach looked dank andsodden and there were trails of mist in the air. Dusk was justbeginning to fall, and it would be a wet night. But the air blew in offthe water sweet and southerly, and it did her good to breath it.
She walked the length of the parade twice, and finally, as thefishing-smacks dropped one by one into the harbour on the further sideof the quay, turned homewards, feeling invigorated and considerably thehappier for the brief exercise.
She wondered if Jake meant to stay to tea. He did not often do so,only, on the very rare occasions when she added her invitation toBunny's. She supposed she would have to ask him to-day if she found himstill there when she returned. But she hoped she would not. She likedhim best when he was not there.
Regretfully she turned her back upon the heaving waters, and crossed theroad to the Anchor Hotel. It was growing rapidly dusk.
She reached the entrance, and was stretching out a hand towards theswing-doors when one of them opened abruptly from within and Jakestepped out. He was smoking a cigarette, and he did not in the firstmoment perceive her. She drew back in an instinctive effort to escapenotice.
But he stopped short almost immediately and accosted her.
"Ah! Is that you? I was just wondering where you were."
Her thoughts flew to Bunny. "Am I wanted?" she asked quickly.
He checked her with a gesture. "No, the lad's all right. It's I whowant you. Can you spare me a minute?"
It was impossible to refuse, but she did not yield graciously. Somehowshe never could be gracious to Jake Bolton.
"I ought to go in," she said. "It is getting late."
"I shan't keep you long," he said, and she noticed that it was plainly aforegone conclusion with him that she would grant him what he asked.
She turned back into the misty darkness with a short sigh of impatience.
"Walk to the end of the parade with me!" he said, and fell in besideher.
Later she wondered why she did not lodge a more energetic protest, forit was beginning to rain in earnest; but at the time it seemedinevitable that she should do as he desired.
She re-crossed the road with him, and turned to walk to the nearest endof the parade. They approached the spot where he had once laidperemptory hands upon her and drawn her out of danger. It was as theyneared it that he suddenly spoke.
"I am sorry to have brought you out again into the wet. Will you comeinto the shelter?"
She acquiesced. The shelter was empty. She stepped within it and stoodwaiting.
He took out his cigarette and after a moment dropped it and set his heelupon it.
"I want to speak to you about your brother," he said. "And, by the way,before I forget it, I've promised to trundle him up to the Stables nextSunday to show him the animals. You will come too, won't you? I cangive you tea at my house. It's close by."
Maud's eyes opened a little. The suggestion somewhat startled her, andshe resented being startled. "You are very kind," she said coldly."But I don't think we can either of us do that."
"I am not in the least kind," said Jake. "And will you tell me why youare offended with me for suggesting it?"
"I am not--offended," she said, feeling herself grow uncomfortably hotover the assertion. "But--I think you might have proposed this to mebefore mentioning it to Bunny."
"But what's the matter with the proposal?" he said. "The boy wasdelighted with it."
"That may be," Maud said; and then she paused, feeling suddenly that shewas being absurdly unreasonable. She blushed still more hotly in thegloom, and became silent.
Jake stretched out one steady
finger and laid it on her arm. "Don'ttake fright at nothing!" he said, in an admonitory tone. "If you'regoing to shy at this, I reckon you'll kick up your heels, and bolt at mynext suggestion."
She drew herself away from his touch, standing very erect. "Perhaps youwould be wiser not to make it," she said.
"Very likely," agreed Jake. "But--as you object to my mentioning thingsto your brother first--I don't see how you can refuse to listen."
This was unanswerable. She bit her lip. "I am listening," she said.
"And the answer is 'No,' whatever it is," rejoined Jake, with awhimsical note in his soft voice. "Say, Miss Brian, play fair!"
She felt somewhat softened in spite of herself. "I have said I willlisten," she said.
"With an unbiassed mind?" he said.
"Of course." She spoke impatiently; she wanted to get the interviewover, and she more and more resented his attitude towards her. Therewas something of the superior male about him that grated on her nerves.
"All right," said Jake. "I'll go ahead. If you will condescend to comeup to my place on Sunday, I will show you a man--one of our jockeys--whowas injured in just the same way that your brother is injured, and whois now as sound as I am. He was operated upon by an American doctorcalled Capper--one of the biggest surgeons in the world. It was a bitof an experiment, but it succeeded. Now what has been done once can bedone again. I chance to know Capper, and he is coming to London nextspring. He makes a speciality of spinal trouble. Won't you let him tryhis hand on Bunny? There would be a certain amount of risk of course.But wouldn't it be worth it? Say, wouldn't it be worth it, to see thatboy on his legs, living his life as it was meant to be lived instead ofdragging out a wretched existence that hardly deserves to be called lifeat all?"
He stopped abruptly, as if realizing that he had suffered his eagernessto carry him away. But to Maud who had begun to listen in icy aloofnessthat same eagerness was as the kindling of a fire in a place of utterdesolation.
For the moment she forgot to be cold. "Oh, if it were only possible!"she said. "If it only could be!"
"Why can't it be?" said Jake.
She came back with something of a shock to the consciousness of hispersonality. She drew back from the warmth that he had made her feel.
"Because," she said frigidly, "doctors--great surgeons--don't performbig operations for nothing."
"I don't think Capper would charge an out-of-the-way amount if he did itfor me," said Jake.
"Perhaps not." Maud spoke in the dead tone of finality.
He leaned slightly towards her. "Say, Miss Brian, aren't you rathereasily disheartened? Wouldn't your people scrape together something forsuch a purpose?"
"No," she said.
"Are you quite sure?" he urged. "Won't you even ask 'em?"
She turned from him. "It's no good asking," she said, her voice low andreluctant. "The only relation we possess who might help won't evenanswer when I write to him."
"Why don't you go and see him?" said Jake. "Put the thing before him!He couldn't refuse."
She shook her head. "It wouldn't be any good," she said, with drearyconviction. "Besides, I couldn't get to Liverpool and back in a day,and I couldn't leave Bunny for longer. And--in any case--I know--I knowit wouldn't be any good," she ended, with half-angry vehemence.
"I wish the little chap were my brother," said Jake.
Maud was silent. Somehow her vehemence had upset her; she had anoutrageous desire to cry.
Jake was silent too for a few seconds; then abruptly he squared hisshoulders and spoke with aggressive decision. "Miss Brian, a good friendis nearer than a dozen beastly relations. With your permission--I'llsee this thing through."
"Oh no, no!" she said quickly. "No, no!"
"For the boy's sake!" he said.
"No!" she said again.
There fell a sudden silence. Then, in an odd voice Jake said, "Bunnytold me--only to-day--with pride--that there was nothing in the worldthat you wouldn't do for him."
She made a sharp movement of protest. "I can't take--what I could neverrepay," she said, speaking almost below her breath. "Neither shallBunny."
"There are more ways than one of paying a debt," said Jake.
He looked almost formidable standing there in the twilight with his legswell apart and unabashed resolution in every line of his sturdy figure.
She faced him with a sinking sense of her own inferior strength. Hisself-assertion seemed to weigh her down. She felt puny and insignificantbefore it. As usual she sought refuge in stately aloofness. She had noother weapon, and at least it covered the beating of her heart.
"I am afraid I don't understand you," she said.
"Shall I explain?" said Jake; and then, as she was silent: "Can't yousee I'm making a bid for your friendship?"
She froze at the effrontery of the words.
"Oh yes," said Jake. "I quite understand. I'm only tolerated forBunny's sake. Isn't that so? You're too proud to associate with a clodlike me. But for all that--though you'll never look at me--I'm notafraid to let you know that I've taken a fancy to you. You've nevercontemplated such a fool idea as marriage with me, I know: but you gohome and contemplate it right now! Ask yourself if you wouldn't find ahusband like me less nauseating than a step-father like Giles Sheppard!Ask yourself if the little chap wouldn't stand a better chance all roundif you brought him along to me! I reckon we'd make his life easierbetween us even if Capper couldn't make him walk. He's too heavy aburden for you to carry alone, my girl. You weren't created for such aburden as that. Let me lend a hand! I give you my solemn oath I'll begood to you both!"
A tremor of passion ran through his last words, and his voice took adeeper note. Maud, upright and quivering, felt the force of the manlike the blast of a tearing gale carrying all before it. She would haveleft him at the commencement of his speech, but he blocked the way. Shestood imprisoned in a corner of the shelter, steadying herself againstthe woodwork, while the full strength of his individuality surged aroundher. She felt physically exhausted, as though she had been trying tostand against a tremendous wind.
Several seconds throbbed away ere she could trust herself to speakwithout faltering. Then: "Please let me pass!" she said.
He stood back instantly and she was conscious of a lessening of thatmysterious influence which had so overwhelmed her.
"Are you angry--or what?" he said.
She gathered her strength, and stepped forth, though she was tremblingfrom head to foot.
"Yes, I am angry," she said, forcing her voice to a certain measure ofcalmness notwithstanding. "I have never been so insulted in my life!"
"Insulted!" He echoed the word in unfeigned astonishment; then, as shewould have left him, put a detaining hand upon her arm. "Say, MissBrian! Since when has a proposal of marriage constituted an insult inyour estimation?"
He spoke with something of a drawl, but it compelled attention. Shestopped, resisting the desire to shake herself free from his touch.
"A proposal of marriage from you could be nothing else," she said verybitterly. "You take advantage of my position, but you know full wellthat we are not equals."
"Oh yes, I know that," he said. "But--is any man your equal?"
"I meant socially of course," she said, beginning to recover hercomposure and her dignity.
"I see." Jake's voice was very level. "And that is why you areupset--angry?"
"It is a very sufficient reason," she said.
"Yes, but is it--as things now are? There is another point of view tothat problem. If you had been leading a happy, sheltered life in yourown sphere--that might have been a reason for me to hold off. You mightwith justice have scorned my offer. But--as things are--as thingsare--" he spoke with strong insistence. "Is it taking advantage of yourposition to want to deliver you from it? It's a beastly position--it'sa humiliating position. And I gather you've no prospect of deliverance.Well, I offer you a way of escape. It mayn't be the way you w
ouldchoose, but--there are worse, many worse. I'm not a bad sort, and I'vegot a soft spot in my heart for that little brother of yours. Say, MissBrian, do you despise me so badly that you can't even give the idea yourimpartial consideration?"
He spoke whimsically, but there was a rough dignity about himnevertheless which had an undeniable effect upon her. She could nolonger spurn him with contempt, though neither could she yield a singleinch to his persuasion.
"It would be quite useless for me to consider it," she said. "I amsorry if I was rude to you just now, but your suggestion rather took mybreath away. Please understand that it is quite, quite impossible!"
"All right," he said. "Still you won't dismiss it quite entirely fromyour mind? That is to say, you'll hold it in reserve just in case a wayof escape becomes essential to you. I shan't break my heart about it,but neither shall I change my mind. The offer remains open day andnight just in case the emergency might arise which would make youwilling to avail yourself of it."
He took his hand from her arm, and she felt that the interview was over.
Yet he walked beside her as she began to move away, and crossed the roadagain with her to the entrance of the hotel.
"And one thing more," he said, as they reached it. "I have no wish orintention to force myself upon you, so if--to please Bunny--you canbring yourself to accompany the pair of us on the Sunday expedition tosee the stud, you need not be afraid that I shall attempt to takeadvantage of your position again."
The colour flamed up in her face at the few, leisurely words. He seemedto possess the power of calling it up at will.
She stood on the first step, looking down at him, uncertain whether tobe haughty or kind.
He moved close to her, and by the lamplight that streamed through theglass doors she saw his frank, disarming smile.
"And look here!" he said. "Don't fling cold water on that other schemefor Bunny that I broached to you, yet! You never know what may turn up."
The smile decided her. She held out her hand to him. "But, you know, Icouldn't--I really couldn't--" she said rather incoherently.
He gave the hand a firm grip and released it. "No. All right. Iunderstand. But think about it! And don't run away with the idea thatI planned it just for your sake! I'd like jolly well to be of use toyou. But--in the main--it's the lad I'm thinking of. You do the same!After all, it's second nature with you to put him first, isn't it?"
"He always will come first, with me," she said. "But I couldn't--Ican't--incur such an obligation--even for him."
"All right," said Jake, unmoved. "Class it with the impossibles--but,all the same, think about it!"
He was gone with the words, striding away down the street without abackward glance.
Maud was left alone with the warm blood still in her cheeks and an oddfeeling of uncertainty at her heart. She felt baffled and uneasy like aswimmer in deep waters, aware of a strong current but still not whollyat its mercy, nor wholly aware of its force and direction. She did notmean to let herself be drawn into that current. She hung on the edge ofit, trying to strike out and avoid it. But all the time it drew her, itdrew her. And--though she would not admit it even to herself--she knewit and was afraid.
The Hundredth Chance Page 9
