'I ain't a piece of dirt, and you shouldn't call me so! I did it 'cause I hated you, and I'm only sorry now 'cause you're--'cause you're----'
'Exactly--because I'm blind. There's noting like tact in little things.'
Bessie began to sob. She did not like being shackled against her will; she was afraid of the blind face and the look upon it, and was sorry too that her great revenge had only made **** laugh.
'Don't cry,' he said, and took her into his arms. 'You only did what you thought right.'
'I--I ain't a little piece of dirt, and if you say that I'll never come to you again.'
'You don't know what you've done to me. I'm not angry--indeed, I'm not.
Be quiet for a minute.'
Bessie remained in his arms shrinking. ****'s first thought was connected with Maisie, and it hurt him as white-hot iron hurts an open sore.
Not for nothing is a man permitted to ally himself to the wrong woman.
The first pang--the first sense of things lost is but the prelude to the play, for the very just Providence who delights in causing pain has decreed that the agony shall return, and that in the midst of keenest pleasure.
They know this pain equally who have forsaken or been forsaken by the love of their life, and in their new wives' arms are compelled to realise it.
It is better to remain alone and suffer only the misery of being alone, so long as it is possible to find distraction in daily work. When that resource goes the man is to be pitied and left alone.
These things and some others **** considered while he was holding Bessie to his heart.
'Though you mayn't know it,' he said, raising his head, 'the Lord is a just and a terrible God, Bess; with a very strong sense of humour. It serves me right--how it serves me right! Torp could understand it if he were here; he must have suffered something at your hands, child, but only for a minute or so. I saved him. Set that to my credit, some one.'
'Let me go,' said Bess, her face darkening. 'Let me go.'
'All in good time. Did you ever attend Sunday school?'
'Never. Let me go, I tell you; you're ****** fun of me.'
'Indeed, I'm not. I'm ****** fun of myself. . . . Thus. "He saved others, himself he cannot save." It isn't exactly a school-board text.' He released her wrist, but since he was between her and the door, she could not escape. 'What an enormous amount of mischief one little woman can do!'
'I'm sorry; I'm awful sorry about the picture.'
'I'm not. I'm grateful to you for spoiling it. . . . What were we talking about before you mentioned the thing?'
'About getting away--and money. Me and you going away.'
'Of course. We will get away--that is to say, I will.'
'And me?'
'You shall have fifty whole pounds for spoiling a picture.'
'Then you won't----?'
'I'm afraid not, dear. Think of fifty pounds for pretty things all to yourself.'
'You said you couldn't do anything without me.'
'That was true a little while ago. I'm better now, thank you. Get me my hat.'
'S'pose I don't?'
'Beeton will, and you'll lose fifty pounds. That's all. Get it.'
Bessie cursed under her breath. She had pitied the man sincerely, had kissed him with almost equal sincerity, for he was not unhandsome; it pleased her to be in a way and for a time his protector, and above all there were four thousand pounds to be handled by some one. Now through a slip of the tongue and a little feminine desire to give a little, not too much, pain she had lost the money, the blessed idleness and the pretty things, the companionship, and the chance of looking outwardly as respectable as a real lady.
'Now fill me a pipe. Tobacco doesn't taste, but it doesn't matter, and I'll think things out. What's the day of the week, Bess?'
'Tuesday.'
'Then Thursday's mail-day. What a fool--what a blind fool I have been!?
Twenty-two pounds covers my passage home again. Allow ten for additional expenses. We must put up at Madam Binat's for old time's sake. Thirty-two pounds altogether. Add a hundred for the cost of the last trip--Gad, won't Torp stare to see me!--a hundred and thirty-two leaves seventy-eight for baksheesh--I shall need it--and to play with.
What are you crying for, Bess? It wasn't your fault, child; it was mine altogether. Oh, you funny little opossum, mop your eyes and take me out!?
I want the pass-book and the check-book. Stop a minute. Four thousand pounds at four per cent--that's safe interest--means a hundred and sixty pounds a year; one hundred and twenty pounds a hear--also safe--is two eighty, and two hundred and eighty pounds added to three hundred a year means gilded luxury for a single woman. Bess, we'll go to the bank.'
Richer by two hundred and ten pounds stored in his money-belt, **** caused Bessie, now thoroughly bewildered, to hurry from the bank to the P. and O. offices, where he explained things tersely.
'Port Said, single first; cabin as close to the baggage-hatch as possible.
What ship's going?'
'The Colgong,' said the clerk.
'She's a wet little hooker. Is it Tilbury and a tender, or Galleons and the docks?'
'Galleons. Twelve-forty, Thursday.'
'Thanks. Change, please. I can't see very well--will you count it into my hand?'
'If they all took their passages like that instead of talking about their trunks, life would be worth something,' said the clerk to his neighbour, who was trying to explain to a harassed mother of many that condensed milk is just as good for babes at sea as daily dairy. Being nineteen and unmarried, he spoke with conviction.
'We are now,' quoth ****, as they returned to the studio, patting the place where his money-belt covered ticket and money, 'beyond the reach of man, or devil, or woman--which is much more important. I've had three little affairs to carry through before Thursday, but I needn't ask you to help, Bess. Come here on Thursday morning at nine. We'll breakfast, and you shall take me down to Galleons Station.'
'What are you going to do?'
'Going away, of course. What should I stay for?'
'But you can't look after yourself?'
