HOW M'GINNIS THREATENED AND--WENT
"Mr. Geoffrey, prayer is a wonderful prop to a anxious 'eart!" said Mrs.
Trapes, leaning over the banisters to greet him as he ascended. "Mr.
Geoffrey, my hands has been lifted in prayer for ye this night as so did
me behoove, and here you are safe back with--that b'y. A prayer prayed
proper, and prayed by them as ain't plaguein' the Lord constant about
their souls an' other diseases, is always dooly regarded. Yes, sir, a
occasional petition is always heard and worketh wonders as the--my land,
Mr. Geoffrey, look at your face!"
"I know, Mrs. Trapes. Has she come in yet?"
"Not yet--an' glad I am. You're all bleedin'--stoop your head a
bit--there!" and very tenderly she staunched the cut below the curly
hair with an apron clean and spotless as usual. "And the b'y--lord,
what's come to him?"
"A black eye--two, I'm afraid. Anyhow, I'll look after him and get him
into bed before she comes; can you keep her away till I've done so?"
"I'll try. Poor lad!" she sighed, touching Spike's drooping head with
bony fingers, "if she wasn't his sister, I'd be sorry for him!"
So Ravenslee took Spike in hand, bathing his bruised and battered
features and setting ice water to his puffy lips, which the lad gulped
thirstily. Thereafter he revived quickly but grew only the more morose
and sulky.
"All right," he muttered, "I'll go t' bed, only--leave me, see!"
"Can't I help you?"
"No--you lemme alone. Oh, I know--you think I'm soused, but I ain't;
I--I'm not drunk, I tell ye--I wish I was. I ain't no kid, so lemme
alone--an' I ain't drunk. What if me legs is shaky? So 'ud yours be if
you'd got--what I got. It was dat last swing t' d' jaw as done me--but
I ain't drunk 'n' I ain't a kid t' be undressed--so chase ye'self an'
lemme alone!"
"All right, Spike--only get to bed like a good chap before your sister
comes."
"You leave my sister alone; she ain't--that kind, an' she ain't fer you,
anyway."
"That will do, Arthur--get into bed! I'll give you five minutes!" So
saying, Ravenslee turned away, but, as he closed the door, his quick ear
detected the clink of glass, and turning, he saw Spike draw a small
flask from his pocket.
"Give me that stuff, old fellow."
"Oh, you can't con me! I ain't a kid, so you lemme alone!" and Spike
raised the flask to his lips, but in that instant it was snatched away.
Spike staggered back to the wall and leaned there, passing his hand to
and fro across his brow as though dazed, then stumbled out into the room
beyond.
"Gimme it, Geoff, gimme it!" he panted, "you won't keep it, no, no--Bud
slipped it to me after I come to. Gimme it, Geoff. I want t' forget--so
be a sport an' give it me--you will, won't ye?"
Ravenslee shook his head, whereat the boy broke out more passionately:
"Oh--don't ye see, Geoff--can't ye understand? I--I was knocked out
t'night--I took th' count! I--I'm done for, I had me chance, an' I
didn't make good! I--didn't--make good!" As he spoke, the lad hid his
bruised face within his hands, while great sobs shook him.
"Why, Spike! Why, Arthur, old chap--never mind--"
"Gimme th' bottle, Geoff! Be a pal an' gimme th' stuff--I want t'
forget!"
"This wouldn't help you."
"Give it me, d' ye hear--I want it--I'll have it, anyway--I'll--"
Spike's voice failed, and cowering back, he sank into a chair at sight
of her who stood within the doorway so very silent and pale of lip.
"Ah, don't, Hermy--don't look at me like that," he whispered. "Your eyes
hurt me! I ain't drunk--this time!"
"Oh, boy!" she sighed, "oh, boy--after all your promises!"
Spike rose with hands stretched out appealingly, but even so, he swayed
slightly, and seeing this, she shivered.
"Is it th' fightin' you mean, Hermy? Why, I did it all for you, Hermy,
all for you--I wanted t' be a champion 'cause all champions are rich.
I wanted t' make you a real lady--t' take you away from Mulligan's--but
now--I'm only--a 'has-been.' I've lost me chance--oh, Hermy, I'm done
for; I--oh, Geoff, I--think I'll--go to bed."
So Ravenslee set down the flask, and, clasping an arm about Spike's
swaying form, led him from the room, while Hermione stood rigid and
watched them go. But when the door had closed behind them, she bowed her
head upon her hands and sobbed miserably, until, spying the half-emptied
flask through her tears, she sprang forward, and snatching it from the
table, dashed it passionately to the floor.
"Oh, dear God of Heaven!" she whispered, sinking to her knees, "not that
way--ah, save him from that--keep him from treading that path!" With
head bowed upon her folded hands she knelt thus awhile until a sound in
the passage aroused her, and rising to her feet, she turned and
confronted Bud M'Ginnis.
He stood upon the threshold, and though his glowing, eager eyes dwelt
yearningly upon her beauty, he made no motion to enter the room. Upon
one cheek the skin was torn and grazed from nose to ear, and upon his
powerful throat were vivid marks that showed fierce and red, and these
seemed to worry him, for even while he stared upon her loveliness, his
hand stole up to his neck, and he touched these glowing blotches gently
with his fingers.
"God, Hermy," said he at last, "you get more beautiful every day!"
She was silent, but reading the fierce scorn in her eyes, he laughed
softly and leaned nearer. "Some day, Hermy, you'll be--all mine! Oh, I
can wait; there's others, an' you're worth waitin' for, I guess. But
some day you'll come t' me--you shall--you must! Meantime there's
others, but some day it'll be you an' you only--when you're my wife. Ah,
marry me, Hermy; I could give you all you want, an' there'd never be any
one else for me--then!"
Her eyes still met his unflinchingly, only she drew away from his
nearness, shivering a little; seeing which, he frowned and clenched one
hand, for the other had wandered up to his throat again.
"Won't ye speak t' me?" he demanded savagely, then shrugging his great
shoulders, he continued in gentler tones: "I ain't here t' quarrel,
Hermy; I only came t' see if th' Kid got home all right." Hermione's
firm, red lips remained tightly closed. "Did he?" Hermione slowly
inclined her head.
"Say now, Hermy," he went on, and his voice grew almost wheedling,
"there was a guy here the other night--a stranger, I guess--one o' these
tired, sleepy guys--one o' the reg'lar soft-talkin' nancy-boys--who is
he?" Hermione only sighed wearily, whereat his voice grew hoarse with
passion, and he questioned her fiercely: "Who is he, eh--who is he? What
was he doin' around here, anyway? Well, can't ye talk? Can't ye speak?"
Hermione only looked at him, and before those calm, fearless eyes,
M'Ginnis burned in a wild yet impotent rage.
"Won't talk, hey?" he questioned between grinding teeth. "Well, now, see
here, Hermy. If you let this guy come any love business with you behind
me back, it'll be his finish--an' he can blame you for it! An' see here
again--watch out for young Arthur. Oh!" he cried, seeing her flinch,
"you think you've got the Kid tied to ye, you think you've got him, I
guess--but you ain't! I've got him--right here!" and holding out his
hand, M'Ginnis slowly clenched it into a fist. "I've got th' Kid,
see--an' he's goin' th' way I want him--he's got to, see?"
"Ah!" she cried, her scorn and fearless pride shattered to trembling
pleading at last. "What do you mean--oh, what do you mean?"
"I mean as I want ye, an' I'm goin' to have ye!" he answered. "I mean
that instead of 'no' you're goin' t' give me 'yes'--for th' Kid's sake!"
"What do you--mean?" she said again between quivering lips, her eyes
full of a growing terror.
"Mean?" he continued relentlessly, viewing her trembling loveliness with
hungry eyes. "Well--that's what I mean!" and he pointed to the broken
flask upon the floor. "If you want t' see it in his face more an' more,
if you want t' smell it in his breath--say 'No!' If you want t' see his
hands begin t' shake, if you want t' hear his foot come stumbling up th'
stair--say 'No!' I guess you remember what it's like--you've seen it all
before. Well, if ye want Arthur t' grow into what his drunken father was
before him--say 'No!'"
"Go away!" she moaned, "go away!"
"Oh, I'll go, but first I'll tell you this--"
"I think not, Mr. Flowers--no, I'm sure you won't!"
Ravenslee's voice was soft and pleasant as usual, but before the burning
ferocity of his eyes, the merciless line of that grim, implacable mouth,
before all the hush and deadly purpose of him, the loud hectoring of
M'Ginnis seemed a thing of no account. Beholding his pale, set face
Hermione, sighing deeply, shrank away; even M'Ginnis blenched as, very
slowly, Ravenslee approached him, speaking softly the while.
"Get out, Mr. Flowers, get out! Don't say another word--no, not one, if
only because of 'that dog-gone fool Heine!' Now go, or so help me God,
this time--I'll kill you!"
Hermione leaned her trembling body against the table for support. And
yet--could it be fear that had waked this new glory in her eyes, had
brought this glowing colour to her cheek, had made her sweet breath pant
and hurry so--fear?
M'Ginnis stood rigid, watching Ravenslee advance; suddenly he tried to
speak yet uttered no word; he raised a fumbling hand to his bruised and
swollen throat, striving again for speech but choked instead, and,
uttering a sound, hoarse and inarticulate, he swung upon his heel and
strode blindly away.
Then Ravenslee turned to find Hermione sunk down beside the table, her
burning face hidden between her arms, her betraying eyes fast shut.
"You are tired," he said gently, "that damned--er--I should say Mr.
Flowers and--other unpleasant things have upset you, haven't they?"
Hermione made a motion of assent, and Ravenslee continued, softer than
before:
"I wanted you to make up your mind to come away to-night, but--I can't
ask you now, can I? It--it wouldn't be--er--the thing, would it?"
Hermione didn't answer or lift her head and, stooping above her, he saw
how she was trembling; but her eyes were still fast shut.
"You--you're not afraid--of me, are you, Hermione?"
"No."
"And you're not--crying, are you?"
"No."
"Then I'd--better go, hadn't I? To Mrs. Trapes and supper--stewed beef,
I think, with--er--carrots and onions--"
Her head was still bowed, and his tone was so light, his voice so lazy,
how was she to know that his hands were quivering or see how the passion
of his yearning was shaking him, fighting for utterance against his
iron will? How was she to know anything of all this until, swiftly,
lightly, he stooped and kissed the shining glory of her hair? In a while
she raised her head, but then--she was alone.