THE FURNACE
It was on a frosty morning in February that Maud stood in one of the
great guest-chambers of Burchester Castle, waiting with Bunny for news
of Dr. Capper's coming.
A nurse was busy in the room, and the hour fixed for the operation was
drawing near.
Bunny was full of pluck that morning. He had greeted her bravely
smiling. Yes, he had slept like a top, thanks to Jake, who had held his
hand half the night and scared away the bogies. Jake was a stunner; he
was going to pay him back some day. And what a ripping room Charlie had
given him! Was it true that there was a music-room close by? That
would be ripping too. Maud would be able to play to him all day long
while he was getting well. Maud was looking a bit blue this morning;
what was the matter?
She had to admit that she had passed a restless night.
"Silly!" said Bunny, and squeezed her hand. "Why didn't you come and
sleep in here? Jake could have looked after you too then."
He chattered on incessantly, making her respond, compelling her
attention, till news was brought to her of Dr. Capper's arrival, and she
went down to receive him.
She found him standing in the great entrance hall with the doctor from
Fairharbour. He moved forward to greet her as serenely as if he had
come upon pleasure bent.
"Delighted to meet you again, Mrs. Bolton. I am just admiring this fine
old English castle. Guess it's the sort of setting that suits you."
He held her hand a moment and looked at her, but he made no comment upon
her appearance.
She faced the green eyes with an odd little feeling of shame. They
seemed to see so much that she hid from all the world.
"You are very--punctual," she said, with an effort, as she turned to
greet the local doctor. "I hope you found the car ready at the
station."
"We were driven up by his lordship himself," said Capper.
She gave a great start. "O! Has he come down? I didn't know."
"He joined us at the terminus quite unexpectedly," Capper told her. "I
have brought my assistant Rafford to administer the anaesthetic.
Rafford, where are you?"
A dark young man, with absolutely black eyes and a high, dominant
forehead, turned sharply from a rapt contemplation of Saltash's
_Captured Angel_, and bowed automatically to Maud.
"I was just trying to make out the anatomy of those wings," he said, in
a very pronounced American accent. "Guess it's a cute addition to the
human frame, but I'd like to know how it's worked from the spinal column
without an extra vertebra or two."
Maud suddenly felt hysterical. She looked at Capper, who pulled at his
beard and smiled.
"Guess it's up to you to find the solution, Raff," he said.
Rafford bowed again. "I'd like to make a sketch of that figure if Lady
Saltash will permit me," he said. "It's an anatomical problem."
The blood rose to Maud's pale face in a great wave. She was about to
speak, when a voice at her shoulder spoke for her.
"I am sure Lady Saltash will be charmed to do so. But I think the face
must be excluded. That can scarcely be of any anatomical interest to
you."
Maud started. Saltash's hand gripped her elbow for a moment and
instantly relaxed. He did not speak to her. The young American glanced
back at the face of the statue, stared at it for a second, then looked
again at Maud. She saw his thin black brows rise ever so slightly.
"The face is certainly of interest," he said, speaking with evident
caution; "but not, as you say, my lord, from an anatomical point of
view."
He withdrew himself with the words, seemed as it were to became Capper's
background, while Saltash sauntered forward to offer refreshment.
Capper asked for coffee and smoked a cigarette. He sat in an ungainly
attitude by the fire while these were in process of consumption, and
spoke scarcely at all. Maud stood near him in silence, chafing at the
delay, yet dreading unspeakably the moment when it should be at an end.
Saltash lounged smoking on a settee with Dr. Burrowes of Fairharbour,
and chatted cheerily about local matters with one eye on the great
American surgeon who sat cracking his long fingers so abstractedly
before the fire.
Suddenly Capper turned his head and looked up at Maud. "Where is Jake?"
"He is coming," she made answer.
"Coming! Why? Does the boy want him? Is he nervous any?"
"He is being very brave," she said. "But of course, naturally, he is
nervous."
He nodded. "Well, I guess we needn't wait for Jake. Let's go up! He'll
keep a stiff upper lip if you're there."
He got up with the words; his bony, yellow hand closed upon her arm,
kindly, reassuringly, confidently.
The burden of her anxiety grew magically lighter. She felt immensely
comforted by reason of that friendly pressure. She prepared to lead the
way.
Capper paused a moment. "I am going to have five minutes' talk with the
patient," he said to Dr. Burrowes. "Will you be kind enough to follow on
when the time is up? Raff, you can make your anatomical study right
now, but be at my disposal in five minutes! Lord Saltash, maybe you
will stay behind and show them the way."
He made his dispositions with the calm air of a man accustomed to
obedience; and then, his hand still upon Maud's arm, he turned with her
to ascend the stairs.
A great shivering fit assailed her as they went. She fought it
resolutely down.
"Say, you're not worrying any?" he questioned. "It seems to me that
it's you Jake ought to be thinking about. What have you been doing since
I saw you last?"
"Nothing, nothing," she said hastily.
Capper grunted. "That's a very unhealthy occupation, especially for a
woman."
She looked at him appealingly. "Oh, please, Dr. Capper, don't talk
about me! I--I would so much rather not."
Capper smiled a little. "You're a true woman. But I can't have you
worrying to death like this. Will you believe me when I tell you that
this operation is going to be an almighty success?"
She stopped short. "Are you sure--quite sure?" she breathed.
He nodded. "I am willing to stake my reputation on it. If I weren't
sure, I wouldn't touch it. I'm past the speculating age." He led her
gently on along the corridor at the head of the stairs. "You may bet
your last dollar," he said, "that I shan't mush up this business. I
never lose my patients when they're young and keen. It's the older
ones, when they get tired, fed up with life--" He paused, and a very
human shadow crossed his face, darkening his shrewd eyes. "That's when
God sometimes interferes," he said. "So I'm never quite sure of the
older ones. But the youngsters--He lets me have my own way with them.
There's such a mighty force in what the French call _joie de vivre_."
A quick sigh rose to Maud's lips. She laid a sudden, impulsive hand
upon the long thin fingers that held her arm. "You are so good, so very
good," she said tremulously.
Capper smiled. "Oh, just ordinary, I guess. Wait till you're up
against me! You won't like me then. I'm going to have a straight talk
with Jake presently--about you."
She gave a quick start of dismay. "Oh no! Please don't! Please don't!
It--it's nothing to do with Jake. He wouldn't understand."
"He'll understand me," said Capper inexorably. "I've a patent way of
expressing myself that leaves no room for misunderstandings. There!
Now I've given you something more important than your brother to think
about. Suppose you take me to him!"
She would have detained him to protest still further, but he refused to
be detained, and she found herself compelled to yield. Very quietly he
insisted, and she had no choice.
They entered the room in which Bunny lay; and immediately a square
check-clad figure rose from the boy's side and came forward with hand
outstretched in greeting.
"Hullo, Doc!" said Jake.
Maud gazed at him in astonishment. "I had no idea you were up here.
When--how did you come?"
Jake was faintly smiling. "I came just now, by the back way, as is my
custom. I promised to be here to give him a send-off, Doctor. Guess
you've no objection?"
"So long as you go when you're told," said Capper rather shortly.
"Reckon I always do that," said Jake.
"Do you?" said Capper, with his sudden smile. "That's not always been
my experience of you."
"Oh, shucks!" said Jake, turning deep red.
Capper passed him by, and went to Bunny. Maud saw that he was intent
upon reassuring him as he had reassured her. She turned away to the
window, and waited.
Jake did not join her there, possibly because his hand was tightly
locked in Bunny's. But very soon Capper called her back to the bedside,
and drew her into talk, keeping her there till he finally rose and went
out with the nurse.
Maud scarcely knew how she came through the next few minutes, but Jake
and Bunny seemed to feel no strain. Jake was talking of the horses, and
the boy's keenest interest was aroused.
"And you're going to teach me to ride like you do," he said, with an
eagerness that Maud had seldom seen in him. "I'm just mad to begin."
He was picking up Jake's manner of speech in a fashion that his sister
deplored but could not attempt to check; but no evil word had she ever
heard on his lips, nor had she ever heard Jake use bad language in his
presence.
Like one in the mesh of an evil dream she listened to Jake's reply,
marvelling at the easy detachment with which he made it. And then the
door opened, and the nurse came in with Rafford. She stood up, her
heart beating as if it would choke her.
Bunny shot a swift glance around. "You'll stay with me, Jake?" he said
quickly.
"Sure," said Jake.
Bunny drew a hard breath. "Hang on to me--tight, Jake!" he whispered.
And Maud turned to the door without a word. He did not need her--he did
not need her!
She had a passing impression of the sympathy in Rafford's eyes as he
held open the door for her, and then she was alone in the passage
outside.
She moved along it uncertainly, almost as if groping her way, found the
door of the music-room ajar, and entered.
A warm fragrance met her on the threshold, a sense of Eastern luxuriance
and delight, soothing her troubled spirit as with a soft, healing hand,
wooing her to a curious peace of mind. It was as though a misty veil
had been drawn over her troubles, obscuring them, deadening her faculty
for suffering.
She went forward to the fire that burned so mysteriously red and still,
reaching out her cold hands to its comfort. She had a feeling that she
ought to kneel and pray, but somehow in that strangely soothing
atmosphere prayer was an impossibility. Her brain felt drugged and
powerless, and she was numbly thankful for the respite.
"Come and sit down!" a cool voice said.
She turned with no surprise or agitation and saw Saltash lounging on a
divan behind her. He had a cigarette between his fingers. The scent of
it came to her with a strange allurement. Almost mechanically she
accepted the invitation.
"Have you been here at all in my absence?" he asked, stretching a
careless arm along the cushions behind her.
She shook her head. "No."
"But why not? Does Jake think I am not to be trusted?"
She smiled at that. "Oh no. Jake never interferes. But--somehow--I
haven't wanted to make music lately."
"You are not happy," said Saltash, with conviction.
She coloured a little. "It has been an anxious time, Charlie, and, I am
afraid, yet will be."
"You take things too hard," he said.
She clasped her hands tightly together. "How can I help it? Everything
is hard. Life is hard."
"Only if you choose to have it so," said Saltash.
He leaned a little forward, looking into her face. She turned her eyes
to his with a vague reluctance.
"Yes," he said. "You've got the wrong pilot on board. That's why you're
getting dragged into the whirlpools. You'll have to heave him over the
side if you want to ride the seas with a free helm. My dear girl, what
a frightful mess you've made of things!"
She did not resent his tone. Somehow in that atmosphere resentment was
difficult. Moreover, her attention was not wholly given to what he was
saying.
"I had to think of Bunny," she said, after a moment, as one in search of
an excuse.
Saltash laughed. "And when are you going to begin to think of yourself?
Don't you realize what is going to happen now that Bunny has been taken
off your hands? You, the dainty, the proud, the fastidious, who wouldn't
look at even the man you loved because you thought him unworthy! On my
soul,--" a sudden tremor of passion ran through his speech--"I think you
were mad. You must have been mad to have done such a thing. Have you
looked forward at all? Can you see yourself a few years hence? I
can--and it's a sight to make angels weep. Oh, Maud, my love, my fate,
is that to be the end? I'd sooner see you dead!"
His hand was upon both hers as he ended. His dark face was burning with
a fierce emotion.
But Maud only shivered, and leaning forward, gazed deep into the heart
of the fire, saying no word.
Saltash watched her, a mocking light in his eyes that shone and slowly
died. "What are you looking for?" he said.
She shook her head in silence. He threw his cigarette suddenly into the
deep glow upon which her eyes were fixed. It leaped at once to flame,
flame that burned ardently for a brief while, and then went out.
"Are you trying to find a way out?" he asked her then very softly.
"There is a way out of every hole, believe me."
She gave him a quick glance as of one hard pressed, but still she did
not speak.
He leaned forward also, pointing to the red heart of the fire that
glowed but never flickered. "If you have the nerve,--the pluck--to face
the furnace," he said, "it may scorch you a bit, but it shan't consume
you. And it would be soon over. Would you be afraid--would you be
afraid--to face it with me?"
His voice was low, stink almost to a whisper; yet it reached her, for he
spoke almost into her ear.
She sat rigidly still, gazing before her. The fragrance of the burnt
cigarette came out like incense from an altar.
He drew a little closer to her. "Maud, I am always ready--always ready.
I am willing to offer any sacrifice. I should never count the cost.
Nothing could be too much. I don't say any more that you are
mine--unless you stoop to bestow yourself upon me. But I am
yours--always--for all time. Bear that in mind--when the time comes!"
He paused a moment; then: "Let that ring of ours be the sign and
message," he murmured. "When you need deliverance, I will come to you
from the world's end."
He rose with the words, so suddenly that she was startled; and in a
moment his voice calm and debonair rang across the room.
"Hullo, Bolton! How long have you been hiding there? Come over here,
and see if you can put a little heart into your wife! She needs it."
Maud, her white face turned over her shoulder, saw Jake's square
shoulders outlined against the furthest south window. He was looking
over his shoulder also; their eyes met across the room. Then he turned
round fully in his solid way and came to them.
He was wearing slippers that he had donned for the sick room, and they
made no sound.
Saltash's lithe form straightened. He stood ready, almost on guard, at
the other man's approach. But his face remained debonair still. There
was even a hint of humour about his mobile brows. His eyes flashed
wickedly.
"So they've turned you out, have they?" he said, with that hint of regal
haughtiness that usually characterized his speech when addressing an
inferior.
Jake did not answer. His eyes, red-brown and very still, were upon
Maud. They did not leave her for a moment. They seemed to search her
through and through.
There came to her a second of deadly panic, panic that stopped her
heart. She put up a hand to her throat with a spasmodic effort to
breathe. And suddenly it seemed to her that she sat engulfed in the
red, red heart of a soundless furnace. She gave a gasping cry, tried to
rise, and fell forward fainting at her husband's feet.