The Hundredth Chance

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  THE BOND

  "I have called him The Hundredth Chance," said Jake. "But I guess he isgoing to be a winner."

  He was stooping over a tiny black foal that stood with trembling legspressed against its mother's flank. She was looking round at the masterwith questioning eyes. Even he was only allowed in the loose-box onsuffrance.

  "You're very hopeful," said Capper.

  He stood leaning on the half-door, looking in upon Jake's latesttreasure.

  Maud was standing with him, but slightly apart, fondling the red setterChops who fawned about her knees. Chops had been unfeignedly delightedto see her again, and he could not desist from telling her so. She hadbid good-bye to Bunny till the morrow, but she had made no definitearrangements for leaving the Castle, and even yet she was wondering ifshe might not manage to return for that one last night of her brother'ssojourn there.

  Jake had received her without comment when she had arrived with Capperhalf an hour before. She fancied his manner was somewhat guarded, buthe treated her as if he had expected her and her coming had caused himno surprise.

  Upon an ordinary occasion she would have been charmed with the sight ofthe week-old foal that Jake had brought them thither to see, but at themoment she was too stiff with shy reserve to enjoy it. So she stoodapart instead while Jake talked in his soft voice to the doctor,striving to hide her embarrassment in murmured endearments to Chops.

  "Oh yes, the dam's a blood mare," Jake was saying, "the most valuableanimal we have. She's a mass of nerves, unfortunately. We've had a lotof trouble with her."

  He stretched a fondling hand to the creature's enquiring muzzle. Shelaid her ears for a moment, but the next her tongue came out and softlylicked first his fingers and then the wistful black face of heroffspring.

  Jake smiled and stood up. "She's a good mother, Doctor. I like a goodmother," he said.

  His eyes fell on Maud, bending low with flushed face over the dog. Amomentary shadow crossed his face. He had counted upon a greaterenthusiasm on her part. Never before had she failed to take a keeninterest in the animals. "Reckon we'd better go in and get some supper,"he said.

  They went in. The spring twilight was falling and with it a briefshower that pattered awhile and was stayed. Down in the orchard theblackbirds were singing in a wonderful chorus that seemed to fill allthe world with music. The scents that rose from the rain-steeped earthwere of that wondrous fragrance that holds the senses spellbound in themagic of Spring.

  From somewhere near the open French window there came the breath ofviolets, and from a little further away, subtly mingling with it, theincense of wallflowers, all wet and luscious from the damp, sweet earth.

  "A wonderful season," said Capper.

  Jake smiled somewhat grimly. "A stormy May," he said.

  The meal was of the simplest, served by Mrs. Lovelace in her best gownof black sateen. Her plump face wore a pursed look of peculiarseverity. Maud, very pale and still, at the end of the table, gave hera murmured greeting which called forth a very grim response.

  Jake was apparently at his ease, but he made no attempt to draw his wifeinto the conversation. He talked to Capper or was silent. He was stillwearing the riding-costume with which she always associated him. Sheheard the clink of his spurs whenever he moved.

  Capper was very gentle with her, full of kindly consideration. Therewere no difficult pauses. To a casual observer there would have been noevidence of strain. Only to the girl, sitting there at her husband'stable, a stranger, was it almost insupportable. She did not know howshe came through the meal, nor was she aware of eating anything. When itwas over at last, she was thankful to rise and go.

  She took refuge upstairs in the room that had been Bunny's, standingthere in darkness, striving with herself, fighting desperately forcomposure. What was expected of her she did not know, whether to go orto remain. The impulse to go strongly urged her, but she held it back.There was the morrow to be thought of, the morrow to be faced, and shehad a feeling--a dreadful, growing suspicion--that Jake was drawing tothe end of his patience. Not that he had betrayed it by word or look;only he seemed to be waiting, waiting with an iron determination that noaction of hers could baulk. She felt that if she fled from himto-night, she would never dare to face him again.

  The thought of Charlie arose within her, Charlie, careless, debonair,gay of soul. He had offered her his protection. Should she go tohim--even now? Could she? Dared she?

  The temptation drew her, drew her. She knew Charlie so well. She wassure he would be chivalrous. She was sure she could count upon him.But his protection--what was it worth?

  Now that she had seen Jake, had felt the primitive force of the mananew, her heart misgave her. She was possessed by the appallingconviction that in the matter of lawlessness Jake could outdo Charliemany times over, if once roused. No trammels of civilization would holdhim. He would go straight for his prey, and no power on earth wouldturn him aside, or make him relinquish his hold till he had wreaked hisvengeance.

  For the first time it occurred to her that it might not be upon herselfalone that that vengeance would fall. A great shudder went through her.She quivered all over, and turning crept to the bed and crouched besideit. She was terrified, unnerved, despairing. Her own wickednessfrightened her, so that she could not even pray for help. She knew notwhich way to turn.

  A long time passed thus; then there came a step upon the stair, asteady, quiet step. A hand pushed open the door.

  "Say, Maud, are you here?" Jake said.

  She tried to answer him, but could not. She knew that the moment shespoke, she would betray herself.

  He came forward into the room. She saw his square figure against thelight outside the door.

  "Capper has gone back," he said. "He wouldn't stay any longer."

  That startled her to a tragic activity. She sprang up in wild dismay."Dr. Capper--gone! I--I thought he was spending the night!"

  "I wanted him to," said Jake. "He wouldn't. He said I was to wish yougood-night, and thank you for your hospitality."

  Maud stood still, her hands at her throat. For the moment she was tooelectrified for speech. Then anger--bitter, furious resentment--came toher aid.

  "So you brought me here by--a trick!" she said, her voice pitched verylow but full of a quivering abhorrence that must have reached him wherehe stood.

  "I don't know what you mean," said Jake. His voice was curt and cool;he spoke without the smallest evidence of indignation or constraint. "Inever asked you to come, nor did I ask Capper to bring you. I presumeyou were a free agent so far as that goes. But since you are here thereis not much point in running away again. It's here that you belong."

  The finality of his speech came upon her with stunning force. It hadthe dead level of absolute assurance. As he made it, he came forwardinto the room, and she heard the rattle of his matchbox as he drew itforth.

  She stood and waited tensely while he deliberately struck a match andlighted one of the candles upon the mantel-piece. All the blood in herbody seemed to be throbbing at her throat. She had not been alone withhim for weeks. She had never been alone with him as she was to-night.

  The light from the candle showed her the room prepared as for a guest.The chintz covers were all newly-starched, and from the bed there seemedto come a subtle scent of lavender. The lattice-window was wide to thenight, and from far away there rose the long deep roar of the sea.

  Jake turned from the lighted candle, and pointed to a low chair by thebed. "Sit down!" he said. "There's something I've got to say to you."

  She looked at him with hunted eyes. She thought his face was very grim,but the dim flickering light threw strange shadows upon it, bafflingher.

  He came to her as she still remained upon her feet, took her between hishands, and held her so, facing him.

  "Say, now," he said, and a hint of half-coaxing kindliness s
oftened themeasured resolution of his speech, "where's the sense of fighting whenyou know you can't win? You're not a very good loser, my girl. But Ireckon it's just a woman's way. I won't be hard on you on thataccount."

  She drew back from him swiftly, with the old, instinctive shrinking fromthe man's overwhelming force of personality.

  "Oh, need we talk about that now?" she said hurriedly. "I--there isstill Bunny to think of. It is his last night, and--and--and----"

  She broke off with a sound half-choked that was almost a cry. ForJake's hands were holding her, drawing her, compelling her. Sherealized that in another moment she would be in his arms. She set herquivering hands against his shoulders, pushing him from her with all herstrength.

  He set her free then, with a gesture half-contemptuous. "So it's to bethe same old fool game to the bitter end, is it?" he asked, and shecaught in his voice a new note as of anger barely held in check. "Well,I reckon it's up to you to make good sooner or later. It was not myintention to hold you down to that bargain of ours; but if you must haveit, you shall. I want to know when you propose to make good."

  She shrank away from him in quivering disgust. "Oh, never, never!" shesaid.

  The words rushed out almost against her will, and the moment they wereuttered she wished them back. For Jake's eyes leapt into sudden furiousflame, such flame as seemed to scorch her from head to foot. He did notspeak at once, but stood looking at her, looking at her, while the awfulseconds crept away.

  At last, "It's rather--rash of you to put it that way," he said, andthere was a faintly humorous sound in his voice as though he restraineda laugh. "So you're not--a woman of your word after all? That'squeer--damn' queer. I could have sworn you were."

  She wrung her hands hard together in a desperate effort at self-control."Oh, Jake," she said piteously, "it isn't my fault that we're not madeof the same stuff, indeed--indeed! You--you wouldn't ask the impossibleof me!"

  "P'raps not," said Jake, and now he spoke in the old soft drawl that sheknew well as a cloak to unwavering determination. "But has it neveroccurred to you that I might leave asking and just--take?"

  She recoiled further from him. The man's deadly assurance appalled her.She had no weapon to oppose against it. And his eyes were as a red-hotfurnace into which she dared not look.

  "Now, listen to me!" he suddenly said. "There's been enough of thisfooling around--more than enough. I've put up with it so far, butthere's a limit to everything. The time has come for you to rememberthat you are my wife, I am your husband. We may not be over well suitedto one another, as you have pointed out. But the bond exists and wehave got to make the best of it. And so you will not go back to theCastle to-night. You will stay here under your husband's roof, and fillyour rightful place by my side. Is that understood?"

  He spoke with the utmost decision; and Maud, white to the lips,attempted no reply. She had made her appeal, and he had not heard it.She knew with sure intuition that further resistance would be useless.She had staked all, and she had lost. In that moment she saw her life aheap of ruins, blasted by a devastating tempest that had scattered tothe four winds all that she had ever held precious. And nothing was leftto her. Nothing of value could ever be hers again. Only out of thesmoking ruins there presently arose one thing--a poison plant--that wasto flourish in the midst of desolation. Out of the furnace of a man'sunshackled passion it sprang to full growth in a single night ready tobear its evil fruit when time should have made it ripe.

  The seed of it had been sown by Saltash. The tropical raising of it wasthe work of Jake Bolton. The nourishing of it was left to Maud. Butthe final ingathering of that bitter harvest was to fall to the lot ofall three.