The Hundredth Chance. Ethel M. Dell
from 'The Anchor' to-day," she said. "I have a little money. Perhaps if you would help me to move Bunny, we could go into lodgings again until----"
"I have a little money too," said Jake. "And I will certainly help you. But first,--do you object to telling me what has been happening at 'The Anchor'?"
She coloured again vividly, painfully, but he was fully engrossed with the filling of his pipe and did not notice her embarrassment.
"To begin with," she said with difficulty, "he--Mr. Sheppard--has turned us out of the room downstairs. He carried Bunny off himself to an attic under the roof, and hurt him horribly. I was driven nearly mad at the time." She broke off, shuddering at the remembrance.
Jake frowned. "Go on!" he said briefly.
She went on with increasing difficulty. "That happened yesterday. I hoped you would come round in the afternoon or evening, but you didn't."
"I couldn't get away," he interpolated. "Yes? And then?"
"Then--in the evening--that is, late at night--" Maud stumbled like a nervous child--"I went down to fetch something and he--he came in after me, half-tipsy; and--and--he--" She halted suddenly. "I can't go on!" she said, with quivering lips.
Jake laid aside his pipe and stooped over her. "Did he beat you, or did he make love to you? Which?" he said.
There was a sound in his voice like the growl of an angry beast. She could not look him in the face.
"Tell me!" he said, and laid an imperative hand on her shoulder. "You need never tell anyone else."
She shrank a little. "I don't see why I should tell you," she said reluctantly.
"You must tell me," said Jake with decision.
And, after brief hesitation, miserably, with face averted, she yielded and told him. After all, why should he not know? Her dainty pride was crushed for ever. She could sink no lower.
"He held me down and thrashed me--with his slipper. I was in my night-dress, and--and it was rather a brutal thrashing. Perhaps some women wouldn't have minded it much; but I--I am not used to that kind of treatment. I hope you will never beat me, Jake. I don't bear it very heroically."
She tried to laugh, but it was a piteous little sound that came from her quivering throat.
Jake's hand closed upon her shoulder. She seemed to feel the whole man vibrate behind it like a steel spring. Yet he made no comment whatever. "Go on!" he said, his voice short and stern. "Tell me everything!"
She braced herself to finish. "He went on till he was tired. I believe I was wailing like a baby, but no one heard. And then--and then--he suddenly discovered that I was a woman and not a naughty child, and he--he--kissed me." She shuddered suddenly and violently. "That's nearly all," she ended. "I got away from him, heaven knows how. And I got back to Bunny. I didn't tell him everything, but I couldn't help him knowing I was upset. We neither of us slept all night. And the night before was a bad one too. That's how I came to be so idiotic just now."
She leaned slowly back in her chair till she rested against the hand he had laid upon her.
"Do you know," she said tremulously, after a moment, "I think it has actually done me good to tell you? You are very kind to me, Jake."
He withdrew his hand and turned away. "That may be," he said enigmatically. "And again it may not. Thanks anyway for telling me." He picked up the horsewhip that he had flung down on entering, and began with his square, steady fingers to remove the lash. "You are right. You can't spend another night at 'The Anchor.' If you will allow me, I will find some comfortable rooms where you and Bunny can stay till we can get married. I will go up to-morrow and get a special licence. The marriage might be arranged for Sunday--if that will suit you."
"Next Sunday?" Maud started round and looked at him with startled eyes.
He nodded. "In church. After the eight o'clock service if there is one. Your mother must give you away. Afterwards, we will come on here with the boy." He glanced round at her. "He shall have this room for the daytime, and the one over it to sleep in. I'm sorry there are not two ground-floor rooms for him; but I know how to carry him in comfort. Of course, if necessary this room could be used as a bedroom as well."
He threw down the worn lash and went to a drawer for a new one. Maud still watched him in silence.
"Does that meet with your approval?" he asked at length.
"I think you are--more than good," she said, a tremor of feeling in her voice.
He kept his eyes lowered over his task. "I am not hustling you too much?" he enquired.
She smiled wanly. "I am asking myself if I ought to let you do it," she said. "It doesn't seem very fair to you."
"It chances to be the thing I want," said Jake, his fingers still busy. "And I reckon you won't disappoint me--won't draw back? I can count on you?"
She rose, turning fully towards him. "You can certainly count on me," she said. "But are you really sure you meant it? It isn't going to spoil your life?"
Jake stood upright with a jerk. She met the extraordinary brightness of his eyes with an odd mixture of boldness and reluctance.
"My girl," he said, in his queer, anomalous drawl, "there ain't a man anywhere in God's universe who knows what he wants better than I do. If I didn't want this thing I shouldn't ask for it. See?" He came to her with the words, and laid one finger on her arm. "Don't you know it's your friendship I'm after?" he said, with a touch of aggressiveness. "Why, I've been after it ever since that night I found you down in the dark alone on the edge of the parade. You were up against it that night, weren't you? And didn't like me over much for butting in. Do you know what you made me think of? A forlorn princess of the Middle Ages. There's a mediæval flavour about you. I don't know where you keep it. But it makes me feel mediæval too."
She drew back a little, stiffened ever so slightly. Something in her resented the freedom of his speech. Something rose in swift revolt and clamoured to be gone.
He must have seen her gesture, her quick, protesting blush; for he turned almost instantly and jerked the whip-lash through his fingers, testing it.
A fitful gleam of sunshine suddenly pierced the clouds behind him and shone on his bent head. His hair gleamed like burnished copper. The tawny glint of it made her think of an animal--a beast of prey, alert, merciless, primeval.
She put on her hat. "I must be getting back to Bunny," she said.
"I am coming with you," said Jake.
She looked at him sharply. "You will walk?"
"Yes, I shall walk."
She pointed with nervous abruptness to the whip he held. "Then you won't want that."
Jake smiled, and tested the whip again without speaking.
Maud waited a moment; then steadily she spoke. "You realized of course, that when I told you about Mr. Sheppard's behaviour of last night, it was in strict confidence?"
Jake squared his broad shoulders. "All right, my girl. It's safe with me," he said. "There shan't be any scandal."
Maud was very white, but quite resolute. "Jake," she said, "you are not to do it."
He raised his brows.
"You are not to do it!" she said again, with vehemence. "I mean it! I mean it! The quarrel is not yours. You are not to make it so." She paused, and suddenly caught her breath. "Oh, don't look at me like that! You make me--afraid!"
Jake turned and tossed the whip down on the window-seat. "You've nothing to be afraid of," he said rather curtly. "You're making your own bugbear. P'raps it's natural," he added, with abrupt gentleness. "You've had a lot to bear lately. There! I've done what you asked. We had better get back while it's fine."
He unlocked and opened the door, standing back for her to pass.
He kept his eyes downcast as she went through, and she knew that it was in response