THE NARROWING CIRCLE
When Jake returned at length, he entered an atmosphere so unmistakably
stormy that he looked instinctively to Maud for an explanation.
The room was lighted and the curtains drawn. She was sitting in the low
chair by the fire doing some intricate crochet-work with knitted brows.
There was tension in her attitude, tension in the firm compression of
her lips.
Bunny lay on his sofa, hot-cheeked, fiery-eyed, beating an impatient
tattoo with one hand on the table by his side. On the table lay the
presents that he had received that day, a box of paints and sketching
block from his mother, a book from Maud, a small telescope from Jake
himself. But he was looking at none of them. His brows too were
closely drawn. His teeth bit viciously into his lower lip.
Maud did not raise her eyes at Jake's entrance. She seemed intent upon
her work. He came and stood beside her.
"I should have been back sooner," he remarked, "but Lord Saltash met me,
and I had to take him back to the Castle in the dog-cart."
Her fingers moved very rapidly. "I thought perhaps you would dine with
him," she said, in a voice that sounded very cold and aloof.
"Not I," said Jake. "Give me my own fireside, and my clay pipe that
doesn't go into aristocratic society!"
She raised her eyes momentarily. "Are you a Socialist?" she asked.
His eyes were unblinkingly upon her. "I guess not," he said, speaking
with something of a drawl. "I've seen life--lots of it--that's all. As
to my politics, well, I reckon they're mine and no one else's. I think
just what I like of everything and everybody." He turned those intent
eyes suddenly upon Bunny. "What's wrong with the head of the family?"
he asked.
At once Bunny burst into speech. "Jake, it's--it's infernal that I
can't go to the races in Charlie's motor--to-morrow. He's offered to
take me. Why shouldn't I go? Hang it all, I will go!" He banged his
clenched fist upon the table with the last passionate words.
Maud kept her eyes upon her work. Her hands though they moved so
rapidly, were not wholly steady. "He is not fit to go," she said.
"That's not the reason you refused!" flung back Bunny, who was rapidly
working himself up to fever pitch. "You said No just because you
thought Jake would be jealous if you said you'd go. You're afraid of
him, that's what's the matter with you,--afraid of his finding out that
you're still in love with Charlie."
He broke into his cracked, painful laugh, stopping abruptly as Jake left
the hearth and stepped quietly to his side.
"Don't touch me!" he said, shrinking sharply back.
Jake stooped. His face was grim. "My son, I'm going to touch you," he
said. "I'm going to carry you straight up to bed. You've had more than
enough excitement for to-day."
"I'm not going to bed!" cried Bunny, his voice high and defiant. "I'm
not going for hours yet. Jake--Jake--leave me alone, do you hear?
You're hurting me!"
"Afraid you've got to be hurt," said Jake.
He was slipping steady hands under the boy's writhing body. Maud had
risen. She came swiftly forward. She touched Jake's shoulder, her face
pale and agitated.
"Don't, please, Jake!" she entreated. "It does more harm than good."
He did not look at her or pay the smallest attention. Bunny was already
in his arms,--Bunny, purple with rage, waving his arms in blind
impotence.
"P'raps you'd open the door for me!" said Jake, in his slow gentle
voice.
She went to the door. Somehow it was the only thing left to do. Jake
followed her with his burden.
As he did so, Bunny ceased to struggle, realizing the mastery of the
steady arms that bore him, and spoke; in a voice of tense hostility.
"You beastly groom!" he said.
Jake said nothing whatever. He carried him firmly, unfalteringly, from
the room.
Maud closed the door softly behind him, and went back to her chair.
But she did not take up her work again. She sat gazing into the fire
with wide, troubled eyes. She was beginning to realize that old
associations, old friends, could be nothing but a disturbing element in
her life, beginning to wish with yearning sadness that Charlie had not
come back into it. She was tired--so tired, so sick at heart.
As for Bunny, he had grown out of hand and would never be the same to
her again. She was sure of it, she was sure of it. Nothing ever could
be the same again in this new world that she had entered. It was a
world of harsh realities, wherein dwelt no softening magic. The fate
she had dreaded was surely closing in upon her. Whichever way she
turned, she found a narrowing circle.
A long time passed. She began to grow anxious. What was happening
upstairs? Was it possible that Jake might after all lose his temper and
visit his wrath upon Bunny's rebellious head? Would he by any chance
make use of that frightful language which she had heard him employ only
a few days before to a negligent stable-boy? Bunny's bitter epithet
dwelt in her memory. Surely Jake would be something more than human if
he did not resent it!
And then suddenly she heard his square footfall on the uncarpeted
stairs, and a great wave of agitation went through her. All her being
quivered at the thought of him, his unyielding mastery, his utter
confidence. Two eyes, one black, one grey, seemed to flash a mocking
question out of the depths of the fire into which she gazed. Her heart
gave a little quiver of misgiving that yet was oddly mingled with
satisfaction. No, she was not wholly sorry that Lord Saltash had come
back into her life. He was so subtly refreshing. He sounded deeps in
her of which none other guessed. His gaiety of soul called back her
vanished youth.
Jake entered, and she turned her head, masking her embarrassment with a
resolute effort. "Oh, Jake, come and sit down! I am so sorry this has
happened."
He pulled forward a chair and dropped into it. "The little chap is
overtired," he said. "He'll be better left to himself for a bit."
He spoke in a quiet, temperate voice. She realized with relief that he
had not taken Bunny's bitter outburst seriously. She took up her work
again.
"He is always difficult to manage when he gets caught by one of these
moods," she said. "And he is apt to say wild things."
Jake began to fill his pipe, making no comment.
Maud worked on for several seconds, still struggling against an uneasy
feeling of shyness.
After a little, in a low voice she spoke again. "Jake, I think--with
you--that if Dr. Capper will examine Bunny and--and perhaps operate on
him, it had better be done--as soon as possible."
"That so?" said Jake.
She knew that he turned his head to look at her, and a hot sense of
discomfiture surged through her. She worked with fevered speed, as if
much depended upon it.
"Of course--of course I want him to have--every chance. I am not so
selfish as that. But--but--the anxiety will be very hard to bear. I
dread it more than I can possibly say."
Her lips quivered suddenly. She became silent, still desperately making
stitches that she could hardly see. She had not meant to make any appeal
for sympathy. It had, as it were, escaped her from sheer embarrassment.
She had never felt more utterly ill at ease in Jake's presence than she
felt that night.
He did not immediately respond though she knew that he continued to
watch her with those lynx-like, brilliant eyes. But after a very decided
pause, his hand, square and steady, came forth and stopped her fevered
working.
"Sit still for a bit, my girl!" he said. "Give yourself a rest!"
She started sharply at his touch, but gave in at once, suffering him to
draw the work from her hands.
"Say, now," he said, "when you married me, I made myself a vow that you
shouldn't be burdened any more beyond your strength. This anxiety you
speak of, will it be harder to bear than to see Bunny suffering and not
be able to help?"
She shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears.
"Guess you're overwrought," he said gently. "Why don't you lie down on
the sofa? P'raps you'd get a sleep."
She mastered herself with an effort. "No, thank you. I am quite all
right. Of course Bunny's welfare comes before everything and always
will with me. Do you know, I think I will run up to him and see that he
has all he wants."
"No, my girl, no! You stay where you are!" said Jake. "I've got him in
hand. Don't you go making more trouble!"
She glanced at him with quick uneasiness. "But is he happy? Is he
comfortable? I never leave him for long when he is like this. Once he
dragged himself right out of bed and on to the floor. He was worse for
weeks after."
"He won't do that to-night," said Jake.
But she was not reassured. "He may. How can you tell? He can be quite
violent sometimes."
"He won't be to-night," said Jake with unmistakable conviction.
"What have you been doing to him?" she said, with quick suspicion.
He put a restraining hand upon her for she seemed on the verge of
rising. "Now, don't you meddle!" he said. "The boy will be all right;
only leave him alone! He won't come to any mischief because he can't.
I've tied him down. No, he ain't uncomfortable," as she uttered a sharp
cry of protest. "I saw to that before I put out the light and left him
to come to his senses. He won't hurt, I tell you. You leave him
alone!"
But Maud was already on her feet. "How could you?" she panted. "How
dare you?"
He rose with her, still holding her. "Now be reasonable!" he said, in a
voice of soft persuasion. "I'm real fond of the little chap, and I'm
trying to make a man of him. He knows that all right. It's discipline
he wants and discipline he's going to have. Don't you get interfering!
You'll do more harm than good."
"Let me go!" breathed Maud.
She was white to the lips as she said it, white and desperate. Her eyes
burned like two stars. But Jake held her still.
"Say, now!" he drawled. "Aren't you a bit unreasonable? I've taken a
lot of trouble to bring him into line. And, as I tell you, I haven't
hurt any part of him, except his pride, and that'll soon mend. Maud, my
girl, now don't act the fool! Don't, I say, don't!"
She had made a sharp effort to wrest her arm free; but he frustrated it,
taking her two wrists very gently but very decidedly into his square
hold.
"Let me go!" she cried again, her pale lips trembling. "How--how dare
you hold me against my will? Jake, you--forget yourself!"
He was looking at her with a hint of humour in his red-brown eyes. They
were shining too, shining with a hot intensity, as though the leaping
flames of the fire were reflected there. But at her words, he let her
go very abruptly and turned from her. He took up his pipe again,
standing so that she saw only his broad back and gleaming hair, while
she waited behind him in palpitating silence.
Some seconds passed before he spoke. And then: "All right, my girl," he
said. "Have it your own way! I reckon he's your brother more than
mine, and I know you have his welfare at heart. If you think it to his
interest to go and undo him--he ain't uncomfortable, mind you! I saw to
that--I shan't interfere either way. Do whatever seems good to you!"
So he delivered himself, and having spoken sat squarely down and pulled
out his match-box as though the matter were at an end.
She stood irresolute, facing him.
"Well? Aren't you going?" he said, after a moment.
And still she stood, feeling the strain to be past yet not daring to
relax her guard.
Jake struck a match and held it to his pipe, looking at her whimsically
between great puffs of smoke.
"There! Sit down!" he said, after a meanest. "Leave the child alone
for a bit! I'll go up to him myself before long."
Casual as was his voice, the force of his personality reached and
dominated her. It was certainly not of her own volition that she
obeyed.
She sat down again in the low chair before the hearth. "I know he will
have a bad night," she said uneasily.
"It won't be any the worse for this," said Jake, with confidence. "And,
now, look here, my girl, I want to ask you something--just in a friendly
way."
Maud's hands clasped each other hard. There was no repose in her
attitude. "What is it?" she asked, in that aloof voice of hers that
emanated from intense shyness rather than pride.
Jake was smoking steadily. The heavy odour of his tobacco filled the
room. "I don't want to give any offence," he said. "But it seems to me
that Lord Saltash is on a footing of intimacy with you and Bunny that
rather points to your not knowing the sort of person he really is."
Maud's eyes grew suddenly darker. She looked him full in the face. "I
know him too well to discuss him with any--outsider," she said.
"That so?" said Jake, slightly drawling. "Well, that certainly makes
matters rather more complicated. I know him, too--awfully well,--so
well that I shall have to request you to keep the young man at a
respectful distance; for he certainly won't stay there if you don't."
Maud sat tensely still. Several moments of utter silence passed away.
Then, almost under her breath, she spoke. "Are you absurd enough to be
jealous?"
Jake's eyes watched her unwaveringly through the smoke. "Would it be
very absurd of me?" he asked gravely.
"Utterly." She spoke the one word with a free disdain.
He bent his head slightly. "Since you say so--it goes. At the same
time, it might be well for you to remember that Lord Saltash invariably
hunts for himself. He is not a man that any woman can safely trust. He
has his points, maybe, but--he is not sound."
Very steadily he delivered his verdict, and Maud received it in unbroken
silence. More or less she knew it to be true, and yet very bitterly did
she resent its utterance. It was as if he had exposed to her the
worthlessness of a possession which for old sake's sake she treasured
though conscious that in itself it was without value. For she had never
idealized Charlie Burchester. Even in the old days of close intimacy
she had always seen the feet of clay, though in her fond woman's way she
had sought to overlook them. It was intolerable to have them pointed out
to her by one whom she still curiously regarded as a comparative
stranger.
She had nothing to say on her friend's behalf. Reason warned her that
it would be useless to attempt to take up the cudgels in his defence.
And so she sat in silence, inwardly burning, outwardly calm.
Jake smoked on for several minutes, then quietly rose. "I'll go up and
settle the youngster now," he said. "And you have made up your mind on
the other subject? I am to write to Capper?"
She did not answer for a moment; her eyes were fixed upon the fire.
He paused beside her, and again there came to her that sense of warmth,
of bodily force, that seemed to reach her from the very centre of the
man's being, rushing out to her, enveloping her.
She made a slight, involuntary movement of withdrawal. "I have said so,"
she said.
He paused no longer. "Then so be it!" he said, and walked away to the
door.