The Hundredth Chance

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE WARNING

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

  If she could have chosen death in that moment instead of this numbwaiting for an ordeal which she felt would be beyond her strength, shebelieved she would not have hesitated. This continual battling againsta will so immeasurably stronger than her own was wearing her down. Thebare thought of an open conflict made her sick. And that an openconflict was before her she felt convinced. He had not chosen toconfound her in the presence of Capper, but she knew that the reckoningwas only deferred. She had come to know him as a man of unerringjustice, and she had long ceased to hope for mercy from him.

  Ah! She heard his step at last, and turned, bracing herself. The mothwas flitting dizzily round and round the candle. Her eyes followed itfascinated.

  Suddenly it made a headlong dash for the flame, there came a sharpcrackle, and then the dull thud of its fall upon the floor. A greatshudder caught her, almost convulsed her. And in the same instant thedoor that intervened between her room and Jake's opened; and he stoodbefore her.

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

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

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

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

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

  She drew back from him with an instinctive movement of recoil, but onthe instant, as though she had stepped into a trap, his hands came outand 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 secondshis eyes remained immovably fixed upon her. She made no attempt toresist him. She knew beyond all question that resistance would be worsethan useless. But she refused with mute determination to meet his eyes.Crush her, conquer her, as he would, he should not force his way pastevery 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, deepmenace as of a savage force that gathered and gathered under thethinning surface of his civilization. "I reckon you think I'm easier tofool 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? Whois to raise any objection? Not the husband who has been too big an oafever to make love to you in his life! The husband who just takes what hewants and leaves what's over for the lover! He should be the lastperson to interfere, I reckon. Ain't that so?"

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

  And so she stood in silence while the dreadful force of the man mountedand 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, forcingher 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 amoment her whole body seemed to burn in a furnace of shame. The hotblood stung her from head to foot, pricking every vein. Crimson andquivering, she hung there in his hold, waiting.

  "So you won't speak to me?" he said. "Won't even try to defendyourself? Well, maybe you're wise. Maybe explanations would do moreharm than good. I know well enough how it is with you. You've got tothe pitch of enduring me like a loathsome but incurable disease. Younever reflected, did you, that in so doing you were making your ownhell? You hate me, but you don't realize that the thing you hate is notme at all but a brute of your own creation. And because of that--p'rapsit's a natural consequence--you've come to prefer another man's love tomine."

  His hold was tightening upon her; she felt herself being drawn to him,felt the warmth of his body like the glow of an open fire. And a suddenwild wave of rebellion went through her, goading her into action atlast. She had never resisted him before; she resisted him now fiercely,passionately, striving with all her strength to free herself from thatpitiless hold.

  "You never offered me love," she panted, straining back from him evenwhile he mastered her. "Love--love--is a very different thing!"

  Her voice went into a gasp that was almost a cry. He was holding hercrushed to him in a grip that nearly suffocated her. His eyes blazeddown into hers, terrible in their intensity, cruelly, appallinglybright. The savage in him had leapt free of all shackles at last, andhad her utterly at his mercy.

  "Well?" he said, speaking with lips drawn back, showing his set teeth."And what is love--as defined by you--and Saltash? Something peculiarlyholy?"

  The taunt pierced her like a knife, with a pain so unbearable that forthe moment she was almost beside herself. For an instant she winced fromthat intolerable thrust; but only for an instant. The next with afurious wrench she freed one hand and struck him--struck him across hisgrim, menacing mouth.

  "How dare you say that?" she cried. "How dare you? How dare you?"

  She struck him afresh with each repetition, so stung to frenzy was sheby that sneer. But when the sudden realization that he stood to endureher blows without the smallest attempt to check or avoid them came uponher, the spirit went out of her. She became passive again, tremblingfrom head to foot, so that but for his upholding arms she must havefallen.

  "Let me go!" she whispered voicelessly. "Let me go!"

  He was still gazing at her, but his look had changed. His eyes stillburned, but they no longer threatened. Rather she read in them aslow-gathering wonder, as of a man who has picked up some strangesubstance of which he does not know the value or properties.

  He held her awhile longer, and then very gradually he let her go.

  She drew away from him, her bosom heaving, her lips panting, and leanedupon the dressing-table for support. She had withstood him indeed, butit had cost her every inch of her strength.

  She did not know how she endured his silence. It seemed to pierce everynerve, while he still stood observing her, as it were appraising her.

  Then at length very slowly he spoke. "I take back what I said aboutSaltash. I see I was wrong."

  He paused a moment. She had made a sharp gesture of surprise, but shespoke no word. He went on.

  "I realize--now--that you do not know what love is. If you did, youwouldn't be so--ashamed. Maybe you never will know. It isn't given toall of us--not that sort. But let me tell you this! Your friendship--orwhatever you call it--with Saltash must end. There must be no moreletters--no more secret meetings. Saltash is not a white man. Ibelieve in your own heart
you know it. Trust him, and he will let youdown,--sure."

  He spoke with sombre force. She heard him in utter silence, her headbent, still striving to call back her vanished strength.

  He came a step nearer to her. "Maybe you think you can hoodwinkme--disobey me, and I shan't know. You haven't a very great opinion ofmy intellect, I guess. But--you may take it from me--I shall know. Andif you try to deceive me, you will repent it. You wouldn't fancy lifeon a lone ranch with not a soul but me to speak to--and all the dishesto wash?" A grim note that was not without a hint of humour crept intohis voice. "That's what it will mean, my girl, if you don't obey yourhusband now. I'm a man of my word, and I think you know it."

  He was standing close to her. She felt the vitality of the man,encompassing her, enthralling her. Her brief resistance was over. Thevery heart of her felt too tired to beat. He had not forcibly quelledher rebellion, yet in some fashion he had taken from her the power torebel.

  He waited for her to speak, but still she could not. Only after amoment or two she drew back from him again and sat down in a chair bythe table. He had delivered his ultimatum. There seemed nothing moreto be said.

  She wished dully that he would go. Surely he could see that the gamewas his, that she had ceased to move or to attempt to counter that finalstroke! Yet he still stood motionless, almost as if he were waiting forsomething.

  Suddenly he spoke again with an odd, restrained vehemence; she felt thathe spoke in spite of himself. "That's a prospect that doesn't attractyou, I reckon. You've no use for me, never have had--save once. Mylove is just an insult to you. You even call it by another name. But Itell you this," his voice deepened with a strong vibration that affectedher very strangely, gripping her close attention, "whatever it is, it'sa driving force that I can't restrain. It may be an obsession, it maybe a curse; but there is no getting away from it. It simply is and ithas got to be. And if any man ever dares to come between us--you hadbetter mark what I say--I'll shoot him!"

  He spoke with a fatalism that sank deep into her soul. It was no savagethreat, but the clear pronouncement of a man who knew exactly what hewould do under given circumstances. And she was sure in that moment,absolutely sure, that no dread of consequences would deter him.

  She did not answer him; there was nothing to say. But there swept overher another dreadful wave of apprehension such as had caught her in thesummer-house an hour before, turning her cold from head to foot. Whatwould he say if he knew what had passed between them--if he knew thattheir lips had met?

  She pictured him selecting his weapon with the deadly determination thathad inspired his words, saw the cruel set of the mouth, the ruthlessglitter of the savage eyes; and she shivered, shivered uncontrollably,convulsively, as one in the grip of an ague.

  He saw the shiver; he could not fail to see it, and his attitude changeda little. A measure of softening came into it, even a tinge ofkindliness.

  "There, you're overwrought," he said. "It's time you got to bed.Reckon you understand me, so we'll give the matter a rest."

  He turned with the words, turned in his sturdy, purposeful fashion andwent back to his room.

  She did not watch him go, but she listened with straining ears for theclosing of the door between them. It did not come to her. There was tobe no relief from his presence that night. The door remained half-open.

  She sat on motionless for a moment or two, listening in a numb, hopelessfashion to his quiet, methodical movements.

  She got up sharply at length and began with quivering speed to undress,not daring to linger lest she should have to meet again the straight,unsparing scrutiny of those terribly bright eyes.

  Once only, and that just at the last, did she stay a moment and stoopover a small dark object on the floor--something she fancied she haddropped. But the next instant a wild fit of trembling seized her, shestood up again, feeling giddy, physically sick. The thing on the floorwas the charred remnant of the moth that had fluttered impotent wings toescape but so short a time before. It lay there shrivelled, lifeless,the wings that had beaten so madly for freedom shattered and consumed inthe flame.

  She caught her hand to her throat. What evil Fate had decreed that suchthings should be? Even the tiniest thread of life could not escape theseething whirlpool of destruction.

  Sick at heart, she turned and extinguished the candle that had wroughtso cruel a doom. The moonlight shone whitely into the room. She wentto the window and pulled down the blind; then trembling, she crept tobed. And the darkness covered her soul.