CHAPTER VI
THE NEW MASTER
Alone in her state-room all these hours, Josephine St. Auban hadabundant time to reflect upon the singular nature of her situation.At first, and very naturally, she was disposed to seek theprotection of the boat's officers, but a second thought convincedher of the unwisdom of that course. As to this stranger, thisstalwart man of the West, she had appealed to him and he had madeno sign. She had no friend, no counselor. A feeling ofinefficiency, of smallness and helplessness, swept over her. Forthe first time in her life she found herself hard and fast in thegrasp of events over which she had absolutely no control. She wasprisoner to her own good fame. She dared not declare herself. Shedared not cry out for help. None would believe her story. Sheherself did not fully understand all the circumstances connectedwith her unlawful banishment from the capital of the proudest andfreest republic of the world.
Josephine St. Auban had abundant time to reflect]
It was while still in this frame of mind that, on the dayfollowing, there came to her a messenger bearing the card ofWarville Dunwody. She gazed at it for some moments undecided,debating. She tried to reason. Had she trusted rather to woman'svaticination, matters had been better for her. What she actuallydid was to summon Jeanne to complete some hurried toiletpreparations. Then she set out to meet the sender of the card.
There was no occupant of the saloon excepting one, who rose as sheentered, hesitating. On the instant a sudden change swept overDunwody's face. Was it at first assuredness it had borne? "I amglad that you have thus honored me," he said simply.
"It is much pleasanter to move about as one may," she answered."But where is our friend, Captain Carlisle, this morning? Is heill, or simply unmindful of one so unimportant as myself? I havenot heard from him."
"He left the boat last night," answered Dunwody gravely, his eyesfixed on her face.
"Left the boat--he is gone? Why, he sent me no word, and Ithought--at least, he said--"
"He has, Madam, like Cataline, evaded, broken forth, absconded.But as to leaving word for you, he was not quite so heartless asall that. I have a message for you."
With a word craving permission she opened the message. It wasbrief.
"MY DEAR COUNTESS:" "You will be glad to know that so far as your late jailer is concerned, your captivity is at an end. I am leaving the boat at the next stop, and since that falls in the night-time, I will not disturb you. Senator Dunwody has kindly consented to act as your guardian in my stead, and from your message to him, I judge that in any case you would prefer his care to mine."
"My dear Countess, they are not merely idle words when I say to you that you have won my respect and admiration. Be on your guard, and allow me to advise you in the interest of yourself and others to remain--silent." "YOUR OBLIGED AND DUTIFUL SERV'T--"
No reasons were urged, no apologies offered. Obviously, thesignature was in such circumstances better omitted.
The effect of this note, strange to say, was to fill its recipient notwith satisfaction, not even with surprise, but with sudden horror.She felt abandoned, forsaken, not pausing to reflect that now she hadonly what she had demanded of her late companion,--guardian, she nowhastily called him, and not jailer. Unconsciously she half-arose,would have left the room. Her soul was filled with an instinctive,unformulated dread.
As to Dunwody himself, ruthless and arrogant as was his nature, hebore no trace of imperiousness now. The silent lips and high colorof the face before him he did not interpret to mean terror, butcontempt. In the fortunes of chance he had won her. In the gameof war she was his prisoner. Yet no ancient warrior of old, rude,armored, beweaponed, unrelenting, ever stood more abashed beforesome high-headed woman captive. He had won--what? Nothing, as heknew very well, beyond the opportunity to fight further for her,and under a far harder handicap, a handicap which he had foolishlyimposed on himself. This woman, seen face to face, yes, she wasbeautiful, desirable, covetable. But she was not the sort of womanhe had supposed her. It was Carlisle, after all, who had won inthe game!
For two moments he debated many things in his mind. Did not womenof old sometimes relent? He asked himself over and over again thesame questions, pleaded to himself the same arguments. After all,he reasoned, this was only a woman. Eventually she must yield toone sort of treatment or the other. He had not reflected that,though the ages in some ways have stood still, in others they havegone forward. In bodily presence woman has not much changed, thisage with that. The canons of art remain the same, the ideals of artare the same. These and those lines, gracious, compelling,--thisand that color, enchanting, alluring, so much white flesh, thus muchcrown of tresses--they have for ages served to rob men of reason.They have not changed. What this man could not realize was thatthere may be changes not of color and of curve.
Not so long as all this they gazed at each other, measured, tookground, gaging each the adversary opposite.
"Do not go!" he almost commanded. She was half way to the door.
"Why not, sir?" She wheeled on him fiercely.
"Because,--at least, you would not be so cruel--"
"I thank you, but I am leaving the boat at the first opportunity.It is impossible for us to continue an acquaintance formed thusirregularly."
"On the contrary, my dear!" The ring in his voice terrified her,but his terms angered her yet more.
"I do not in the least understand you, sir! I am accustomed to doquite as I like. And you may address me as the Countess St. Auban."
"Why should we talk of this?" he retorted. "Why talk to me ofcountesses? To me you are something better as you stand,--the mostbeautiful girl, the most splendid human being, I ever saw in all mylife. If you are doing quite as you like, why should you ask me tocome to your aid? And why will you not now accept my aid when itis offered? The relations under which you have been traveling withthis other gentleman were not quite clear to me, but such as theywere--"
"Do you lack courage, sir, to say that he has quit-claimed me toyou? Am I still a prisoner? Are you to be my new jailer? By whatright, then?"
Dunwody had not gathered all the story of this woman and herearlier guardian; more than she herself could guess what had beenCarlisle's motive or plan in leaving her to her own devices. Thatshe was the victim simply of a daring kidnapping could, not haveoccurred to him. What then did she mean by talking of prisoners?
"After all, you were not that amanuensis which you yourself claimedto be?"
"I was not. Of course I was not. I am the Countess St. Auban. Itis not necessary for me to serve any man, in my capacity."
"Why, then, did you say you were?"
"Because I thought I was still to be in that gentleman's charge. Idid not know he was about to desert me. I preferred his company toworse."
"He has only given you your own wish--I hope it is still your wish.I hope it is not 'worse.'"
"I beg you to forget that little note from me. I was onlyfrightened at the thought of a long journey which I did not knowthen might end so soon. I only fancied I was in need of help."
"Tell me one thing," he began irrelevantly. "You are countess, asyou say. Who is your husband, and where is he?"
"You have no right to ask. I must leave you now. Ah! If indeed Ihad a protector here--some man of that country where men fight--"
"I have said that you shall not leave."
"But this passes belief. It is insult, it is simple outrage! I amalone--I come to you asking protection in the name of a man'schivalry,--an American's. This is what I receive! You declareyourself to be my new jailer. What is being done with me? I neversaw Captain Carlisle until three days ago. And you have met meonce, before this moment! And you are a Southerner; and, they tellme--"
"That once was enough."
"Your pardon, sir! Which way does the conversation tend?"
"To one end only," he resumed sullenly, desperately. "You shallnot leave. If you did, I should only follow yo
u."
"How excellent, to be taken by one brigand, handed over to anotherbrigand, and threatened with perpetual attendance of the latter!Oh, excellent indeed! Admirable country!"
"You despise the offer of one who would be a respectful servitor."
She mocked at him. "How strange a thing is man! That is the firstargument he makes to a woman, the first promise he makes. Yet atonce he forgets the argument and forgets the promise. What youdesire is to be not my servant, but my master, I should say. Youfancy you are my master? Well, then, the situation seems to me notwithout its amusing features. I am a prisoner, I am set free. Iam sought to be again put in durance, under duress, by a man whoclaims to be my humble servitor--who also claims to be a gentleman!It is most noble of you! I do not, however, comprehend."
The dull flush on his face showed at least no weakening on his ownpart. "Come now!" he exclaimed impatiently, "let us arrive at theissue."
"And what honorable enterprise is it which you propose?"
"To make it short, Madam, I propose to take you home with me. Nowyou have heard it." He spoke in a desperate, icy calm.
I propose to take you home with me.]
"You flatter me! But how, if I may ask, do you intend toaccomplish all that?"
"I have not thought so far along. In peace, if you please: itwould be much better."
"But, my God!" she exclaimed, pausing in her walk up and down."You speak as though you meant these things! Could it be there,out there--beyond the great river--yes, my other jailer told methat we were not to stop this side! I suppose you are my newkeeper, then, and not my friend? Duty again, and not chivalry! Isthat what you mean?"
"I hardly know what I mean," he answered miserably. "I like allthis no better than yourself. But let us begin with what iscertain. Each hour, each day I may be able to hold you here isthat much gained. I can't let you go."
"Most excellent! You begin well. But I shall not submit to suchinsults longer. Such treatment is new to me. It shall not gounrevenged. Nor shall it continue now."
"It is too late!" he broke in. "I know how much I have taken leaveof my own self-respect, but there are times when one takes leave ofeverything--cares for nothing that lies between him and onepurpose. It would do no good for you to claim the protection ofothers--even if I had to fight all the boat's officers, I mightwin. But in that case you could only lose. You would have toexplain who you are, why you are here. You would not be believed."
"What I wish to know is only one thing," she rejoined. "Notoffering terms, I want to know what is the alternative you haveproposed. Let us see if we can not reason calmly over thismatter." She also was suddenly cold and pale. The hand of a swiftterror was upon her now.
"You ask me to reason, and I answer I have no reason left. You askme what I propose, ask what we should do, and I answer I do notknow. But also I know that if you left me, I should never see youagain."
"But what difference, then? You are, I presume, only my newconstable."
"There could be no social chance for me--I've ruined that. Youwould exact defeat of me as surely as you met me, there."
"Social chance?--Social--! Well, the _bon Dieu_! And here youexact defeat for yourself. But what defeat? Come, your speechsounds more personal than professional. What can you possiblythink yourself to be, but my new jailer?"
"I'm not so sure. Look, each turn of the wheels takes us fartheraway from the places where society goes on in its own grooves. Outhere we manage the world in our own ways."
Unconsciously the eyes of both of them turned down the river, alongwhich the boat now steadily continued its course. He went onsomberly.
"Out there," he said, pointing toward the west, "out beyond the bigriver, there's a place where the wilderness sweeps. Out there thelaw is that of the old times. It is far away."
"How dare you speak in such way to me?" she half whispered, low andtense. "And you claim manhood!"
"No," he said, sighing. "I--claim nothing. I deny nothing. Iassert nothing--except that I'm going to be not your Jailer, butyour keeper. Yes, I'm going to hold you, keep you! You shall notget away. Why," he added, pacing apart for a moment. "I have noshame left. I've planned very little. I thought I might even askyou to be a guest at my own plantation. My place is out on theedge of the world, thirty miles back from the river. An amanuensisis as reasonable there as on this boat, in the company of afrontier army man."
"That, then, is your robber castle, I suppose."
"I rule there, Madam," he said simply.
"Over thrall and guest?"
"Over all who come there, Madam."
"I've heard of the time," she went on icily, "when this country wasyounger, how the _seigneurs_ who held right under the old Frenchkings claimed the law of the high, low and middle justice. Life,death, honor, all lay in their hands--in the hands of individuals.But I thought those times past. I thought that this river wasdifferent from the St. Lawrence. I thought that this was arepublic, and inhabited by men. I thought the South hadgentlemen--"
"You taunt me, my dear lady, my dear girl. But be not so sure thattimes have changed. Out beyond, there, where we are going, I couldput you a mile back from the river, and you would find yourself ina wilderness the most pathless in the world to-day, worse than theSt. Lawrence ever knew at any time, more lawless, more beyond thereach of any law. These lands out here are wild; yes, and theybreed wild men. They have been the home of others besides myself,lawless, restless under any restraint. If you come to wildernesses,and if you come to the law of the individual, I say we're only justapproaching that sort of thing right now, and here."
She looked at him, some inarticulate sort of sound in her throat,fully frightened now, seeing how mistaken she had been. He went on:
"Out there in the big valleys beyond the river, you would indeeddisappear. No man could guess what had become of you. You wouldnever be found again. And without any doubt or question, Madam, ifyou force me to it, you shall have your answer in that way. I'mnot a boy to be fooled with, to be denied. I rule out there, overfree and thrall. There's where you're going. Your other jailertold you the truth!"
She looked at him slowly and fully now, the color fading from herface. Her soul had touched the steel in his own soul. She knewthat, once aroused, this man would hesitate at nothing. Crowdedbeyond his limit, there was no measure he would not employ. Othermeans must be employed with such a nature as his. She temporized.
"Listen. You are a man of family and traditions,--my late guardiantold me. You have been chosen to a position of trust, you are oneof the lawmakers of your own state. Do you ever stop to reflectwhat you are doing, how you are abandoning yourself, your owntraditions, your own duties, when you speak as you have beenspeaking to me? I had committed no crime. I am held by no processof law. You take risks."
"I know. I have thrown it all away in the balance. If thesethings were known, I would be ruined." He spoke dully and evenly,indifferently.
"I lack many things, Madam," he resumed at length. "I do not lackhonesty even with myself, and I do not lie even to a woman. That'sthe trouble. I have not lied to you. Come now, let us understand.I suppose it's because I've been alone so much. Civilization doesnot trouble us much back there. These are my people--they loveme--I hold them in my hand so long as I live up to their standards.Maybe I've thrown them away, right now,--my people."
"You are not living up to your standards."
"No, but I can not make you understand me. I can not make youunderstand that the great thing of life isn't the foolish ambitionof a man to get into a state legislature, to make laws, to see themenforced. It isn't the original purpose of man to get on inpolitics or business, or social regard. Man is made to love somewoman. Woman is made to be loved by some man. That's life. It'sall of it. I know there's nothing else."
"I have heard my share of such talk, perhaps, in this or thatcorner of the world," she answered, with scorn. "Excellent, foryou to
force it upon a woman who is helpless!"
"Talk doesn't help, but deeds will. You're going along with me. Iwould swear you belonged to me, if need be. As, by the AlmightyGod! I intend you some day shall. All the officers of the law aresworn to help a man claim what is his own, this side or that of theslave line. All the stars in the sky are sworn to help a man whofeels what I feel. Don't tempt me, don't try to drive me--it willnever do. I'll be harder to handle than the man who lost you to melast evening in a game of cards,--and who went away last night andleft you--to me."
As she gazed at him she saw his hands clenched, his mouthtwitching. "You would do that, even--" she began. "I have neverknown men grew thus unscrupulous. A game--a game at cards! AndI--was lost--I!--I! And also won? What can you mean? Am I thenindeed a slave, a chattel? Ah, indeed, now am I lost! My God, andI have no country, no kin, no God, to avenge me!"
A sort of sob caught in his throat. "I was wrong!" he criedsuddenly. "I always say the wrong word, do the wrong thing, takethe wrong way. But--don't you remember about Martin Luther? Hesaid he couldn't help himself. 'Here stand I, I can not otherwise,God help me!' That's just the way with me--you blame me, but Itell you I can not otherwise. And I've told the truth. I've madewreck of everything right now. You ask me to make plans; and Itell you I can not. I would take you off the boat by force ratherthan see you go away from me. This thing is not yet worked out tothe end. I'm not yet done. That's all I know. You'll have to goalong with me."
A sudden revulsion swept over him. He trembled as he stood, andreached out a hand.
"Give me a chance!" he broke out, sobered now. "It was a newthing, this feeling. Come, you sent for me--you asked me--thatother man placed me in his stead as your guardian. He didn't knowI would act in this way, that's true. I own I've been brutal. Iknow I've forgotten everything, but it came over me all at once,something new. Why, look at us two together--what could stop us?Always I've lacked something: I did not know what. Now I know.Give me my chance. Let me try again!"
In this strange, strained position, she caught, in spite ofherself, some sort of genuine note underneath the frankness of hisungovernable passion. For once, she was in a situation where shecould neither fathom motives nor arrange remedies. She stood insheer terror, half fascinated in spite of all.
They both were silent for a while, but at length she resumed, notso ungently: "Then let there be this contract between us, sir.Neither of us shall make any further scene. We'll temporize, sincewe can do no better. I gave parole once. I'll not give it again,but I'll go a little farther on westward, until I decide what todo."
Impulsively he held out his hand to her, his mouth twitching withemotion, some sort of strange impulse shining in his eyes,
"Be my enemy, even," he said, "only, do not leave me. I'll not letyou go."
The Purchase Price; Or, The Cause of Compromise Page 6
