THE DAY AFTER
When Maud slept that night, it was the deep, deep sleep of exhaustion.
All the pressing cares of the past few months, all the strenuous
efforts, the unremitting anxieties, had culminated in one vast burden
which had at last overweighted her strength. Against her will the
burden had been lifted from her, but now that it was gone she slept and
slept. No dreams pierced that intense repose. She lay without
stirring, as though the ancient spell had been renewed and laid upon
her.
The room in which she lay overlooked the whole stone-paved length of the
stable-yard, but no voice or stamping of hoofs awaked her. The cheery
sounds of the coming day did not even vaguely penetrate her rest. Body
and soul were wrapped in complete oblivion while hour after hour went
by.
There had been snow in the night, and the sun arose upon a world of
dazzling whiteness. The toy fir-trees were mantled in it. The
stable-roofs gleamed in a thousand sparkles.
She had pulled up the blind before lying down, and the reflection lit up
the room with an ever-growing brightness. She opened her eyes at last
quite suddenly and stared at the oak-beamed ceiling.
The next instant she turned sharply on her side, aware of a furtive
movement in the room. Someone--a man--was on his knees before the
grate, stealthily coaxing the fire to burn. She had a glimpse of brown
leggings and a rough tweed suit. There were spurs on his heels that
shone like silver. His red-brown head was on a level with the bars at
which he was softly blowing.
As she moved a flame shot up in response to his efforts and he turned,
still kneeling, and looked at her.
"Say, you've had a real good night for once," he said in a voice of soft
approval. "How do you feel yourself this morning?"
Maud, crimson-faced, searched for words and found none. It was one of
the most difficult moments she had ever had to endure.
Jake glanced at the fire, pushed the poker into it, and got to his feet.
He came to her side.
"Don't be mad with me!" he pleaded humbly. "Someone had to light the
fire, and old Lovelace is busy."
He smiled as he said it, and when Jake smiled he was hard to resist.
Maud suddenly found the difficulties of the situation swept away. With
Jake in a docile mood she found it comparatively easy to deal.
"Thank you," she said after a moment, and with slight hesitation
extended a hand to him. "It was kind of you to light the fire though I
could have done very well without it."
He took the hand very respectfully. She even had a faint suspicion that
he also was secretly embarrassed. "The room faces due north," he said.
"It had to be done, though I hoped you wouldn't wake."
"Thank you," she said again, and withdrew her hand from his steady,
all-enveloping grasp. "How--how is Bunny?"
He smiled again with more assurance. His strong white teeth were very
good to see. "He had a splendid night. I've got him up and dressed. He
is downstairs, waiting for you to take him out."
This piece of diplomacy obviously came to Jake as an inspiration. His
smile broadened at the brightening of her face.
Maud raised herself on her elbow and pushed the thick hair back from her
forehead. "You are very good," she said gratefully. "Please, will you
go now, and let me get up?"
He turned at once to the door, but paused as he reached it. "Say,
Maud," he said tentatively; "there's a breakfast-tray waiting for you.
May I bring it up?"
"Oh, please don't!" she said hurriedly. "I never breakfast in bed.
Besides----"
"I'll put it outside the door then," said Jake, and was gone.
She heard him clatter down the uncarpeted stairs, whistling as if
well-pleased with himself, and as she reviewed his unceremonious
behaviour she decided to treat it with the simplicity with which he
evidently regarded it himself. There was that advantage in the situation
at least. His character and his conduct were wholly without
subtleties--or so she imagined. When he dumped down the breakfast-tray
in the passage a little later she called her thanks to him through the
closed door as though he had been an old and intimate friend. Perhaps
after all she had been over-fanciful the night before!
She ate her breakfast with a growing sense of reassurance, dressed, and
went downstairs.
Something of an ordeal here awaited her in the form of an encounter with
Mrs. Lovelace, who greeted her deferentially but with a reticence that
certainly did not veil any good-will. She presented her with the
household keys with the stiff remark that Mr. Bolton had desired her to
do so.
Maud received them with an odd dismay. Somehow she had not visualized
herself as the mistress of the establishment.
"Mr. Bolton also wished me to take your orders for dinner, ma'am," said
Mrs. Lovelace, with stiff dignity. "He is accustomed to dine in the
middle of the day, but I was to tell you that if you preferred a late
dinner it was all one to him."
The slight emphasis on the last word did not escape Maud, and she saw at
once that Mrs. Lovelace could not be considered equally indifferent on
the subject.
"But of course we will dine in the middle of the day," she said at once,
and was rewarded by a faint flicker of amiability on the old woman's
severe countenance.
"That is as you please, ma'am," she said, with less formality, and Maud
felt that she had scored a point.
She escaped from the interview at length with a sensation of relief, and
hastened to Bunny whom she found awaiting her with some impatience.
The boy was in excellent spirits. He had enjoyed having Jake in
attendance, and unhesitatingly he let her know it.
"Why, there's no trouble at all in being lifted by him," he said. "And,
by the way, he says you're not to lift me any more. It's too much for
you. I'm ready to go out now, but he will put me in the chair. He said
you were to call him. He's somewhere in the stables."
Bunny's fashion of expressing himself was not a diplomatic one. Maud
did not argue the matter, but as she went in search of Jake a deep
resentment kindled and burned within her. So this was to be the first
consequence of her rash step--the gradual removal of Bunny from her
care! Bunny--her Bunny--for whose dear sake she had made the sacrifice!
Out in the stable-yard she came upon Sam Vickers sucking a straw the
while he cleaned a saddle. He greeted her with a smile, and informed
her that the boss was in one of the loose boxes round the corner.
Maud followed his directions, passing down a narrow passage between
stalls to an open stone-paved space beyond that was surrounded by loose
boxes. Here she paused, catching the sound of voices, and uncertain
whence they proceeded. A bony red setter came up to her and poked a
friendly nose into her hand.
She bent to fondle him, and as she did so she heard Jake speaking in a
building close to her. She turned towards the voice with the intention
of joining him; but, so turning, she heard the words he uttered and
stood petrified. For Jake, albeit with the utmost calmness and
deliberation, was speaking a language that made her blood run cold. His
words came with a fluency and distinctness that made them all the more
terrible. If he had been stuttering with rage, she felt it would have
horrified her less. She stood rooted to the spot, white-faced and
powerless, while the kindly setter fawned about her knees.
She thought the soft voice would never stop. Someone had done wrong and
was being cursed for it with appalling thoroughness. Such oaths as Jake
uttered she had never before heard or dreamed of, and the scathing
cruelty of his speech was like a stinging lash.
No remonstrance or protest of any sort was offered in return; but after
what seemed to her an intolerable length of time there came the sound of
heavy, shuffling feet, and a small sandy-haired stable-lad of about
seventeen came blundering out into the yard. His face was crimson and
screwed up like the face of a crying baby. He sniffed emotionally as he
went past her.
Maud remained where she was. She was sick with disgust. Her whole
being physical and mental was in revolt. She wanted to turn and go, but
something kept her there. She stood like an outraged princess, clothed
in a dignity that was wholly unconscious, while Despair, grim,
relentless, forced a way to her quivering heart. This--this was her
husband! This coarse-mouthed brute--this monster of evil eloquence!
This was the man to whom she had fled for protection, to whose
chivalrous instincts she had entrusted herself! Oh, what had she done?
And then suddenly he came out upon her, striding forth, his riding-whip
clenched in his hand, his brows drawn in a ruddy, threatening line.
He saw her and in a moment, magically, his face changed. The cruel,
lynx-like vindictiveness went out of it. He came to her smiling.
"Hullo, Maud!" he said.
And Maud shrank, shrank visibly, so that he could not fail to see; then
drew herself together, instinctively summoning her pride.
"I came to look for you," she told him, with icy aloofness. "Bunny is
waiting to be moved."
"Right O!" said Jake.
He moved towards the passage by which she had entered the yard, and she
walked beside him, very pale, very erect, yet tingling with a disgust
that almost amounted to loathing.
They went a few yards in silence, then silence became a burden. She
spoke.
"It is really quite unnecessary to trouble you. I am fully capable of
moving him myself."
He turned his head towards her. "Say, Princess, what's wrong?" he said.
She quivered afresh at his tone; it had the possessive quality that she
so dreaded--was beginning to abhor.
She did not answer, and he passed on with scarcely a pause. "I know you
can lift the boy; but it's very bad for you, and not over good for him.
Where's the point of it anyway when you've got me at hand to do it for
you?"
"It is quite unnecessary to trouble you," she said again, "unnecessary
and absurd."
"All right, my girl," he said unexpectedly. "Call it just one of my
whims and--humour it!"
She felt herself flush. His tone--though perfectly good-tempered--had
been almost one of command. As they emerged from the stone passage into
the outer yard she gave abrupt rein to her indignation.
"I really cannot submit to any interference in my care of Bunny. I told
you so last night, and I meant it. He has always been my especial
charge, and I cannot give him up."
Jake's eyes were upon her, vigilant, intent, dominant. He spoke in a
drawl that sounded to her slightly derisive. "Say, now, what will you do
if Bunny is cured?"
She turned her face sharply from him. What would she do indeed? But
the thing was an impossibility. She put the thought away from her.
"I am not discussing that," she said, speaking with a grim effort at
calmness that cost her all her strength. "It is the present with which I
am dealing now. I believe you mean to be kind, but----"
"You don't say!" interjected Jake softly.
"But," she said again, with emphasis, "it is a mistaken kindness. I am
very grateful to you for your help, but really you must let me do my
share."
An involuntary note of wistfulness in the last words softened the look
in Jake's eyes. He even smiled a little as he said: "Bunny being the
only person in the world for whom you entertain the smallest spark of
affection?"
She looked at him quickly. "He is all that I have," she said, in a low
tone of protest.
"That so?" said Jake deliberately. "Well,--I'm sorry."
She felt the flush deepen to crimson in her face, and she quickened her
steps as they neared the house, longing to put an end to an encounter
that had brought her nothing but discomfiture.
Jake lengthened his stride. He looked no longer at her, but straight
ahead with the eyes of a man who reads the future. Evidently the
prospect was a pleasing one, for the faint smile still lingered about
his lips. She was thankful that he had not observed that painful blush
of hers.
At the door of his house he paused and stood back for her to precede
him; and so standing, suddenly and softly he gave utterance to the
thought in his mind.
"Say, Maud," he said into her ear, "some day--when the boy is well and
off your hands--I'd just enjoy to see you with a child of your own in
your arms."
She started away from the whispered words, started and quivered like a
wild thing trapped. For a single instant her eyes met his in open,
passionate revolt; then swiftly she passed him by.
Jake followed with his lips pursed to a whistle, and a certain hard
glitter replacing the dream in his eyes.