"Just as you please," he said quietly.
He walked into the spare bedroom. Hazel heard the door close gently behind him, heard the soft click of a well-oiled lock. Then she slumped, gasping, in the wide-armed chair by the window, and the hot tears came in a blinding flood.
CHAPTER x.x.x
THE AFTERMATH
They exchanged only bare civilities at the breakfast table, and Bill at once went downtown. When he was gone, Hazel fidgeted uneasily about the rooms. She had only a vague idea of legal processes, having never seen the inside of a courtroom. She wondered what penalty would be inflicted on Bill, whether he would be fined or sent to prison. Surely it was a dreadful thing to batter men like Brooks and Lorimer and Parkinson. They might even make it appear that Bill had tried to murder them. Her imagination magnified and distorted the incident out of all proportion.
And brooding over these things, she decided to go and talk it over with Kitty Brooks. Kitty would not blame her for these horrid man troubles.
But she was mistaken there. Kitty was all up in arms. She was doubly injured. Her husband had suffered insult and brutal injury. Moreover, he was threatened with financial loss. Perhaps that threatened wound in the pocketbook loomed larger than the physical hurt. At any rate, she vented some of her spleen on Hazel.
"Your husband started this mining thing," she declared heatedly.
"Jimmie says that if he persists in trying to turn things upside down it will mean a loss of thousands. And we haven"t any money to lose--I"m sure Jimmie has worked hard for what he"s got. I"m simply sick over it. It"s bad enough to have one"s husband brought home looking as if he"d been slugged by footpads, and to have the papers go on about it so. But to have a big loss inflicted on us just when we were really beginning to get ahead, is too much. I wish you"d never introduced your miner to us."
That speech, of course, obliterated friendship on the spot, as far as Hazel was concerned. Even though she was quite prepared to have Bill blamed for the trouble, did in fact so blame him herself, she could not stomach Kitty"s language nor att.i.tude. But the humiliation of the interview she chalked up against Bill. She went home with a red spot glowing on either cheekbone. A rather incoherent telephone conversation with Mrs. Allen T. Bray, in which that worthy matron declared her husband prostrated from his injuries, and in the same breath intimated that Mr. Wagstaff would be compelled to make ample reparation for his ruffianly act, did not tend to soothe her.
Bill failed to appear at luncheon. During the afternoon an uncommon number other acquaintances dropped in. In the tactful manner of their kind they buzzed with the one absorbing topic. Some were vastly amused. Some were sympathetic. One and all they were consumed with curiosity for detailed inside information on the Free Gold squabble.
One note rang consistently in their gossipy song: The Free Gold Company was going to lose a pot of money in some manner, as a consequence of the affair. Mr. Wagstaff had put some surprising sort of spoke in the company"s wheel. They had that from their husbands who trafficked on Broad Street. By what power he had accomplished this remained a mystery to the ladies. Singly and collectively they drove Hazel to the verge of distraction. When the house was at last clear of them she could have wept. Through no fault of her own she had given Granville another choice morsel to roll under its gossipy tongue.
So that when six o"clock brought Bill home, she was coldly disapproving of him and his affairs in their entirety, and at no pains to hide her feelings. He followed her into the living-room when the uncomfortable meal--uncomfortable by reason of the surcharged atmosphere--was at an end.
"Let"s get down to bed rock, Hazel," he said gently. "Doesn"t it seem rather foolish to let a bundle of outside troubles set up so much friction between us two? I don"t want to stir anything up; I don"t want to quarrel. But I can"t stand this coldness and reproach from you. It"s unjust, for one thing. And it"s so unwise--if we value our happiness as a thing worth making some effort to save."
"I don"t care to discuss it at all," she flared up. "I"ve heard nothing else all day but this miserable mining business and your ruffianly method of settling a dispute. I"d rather not talk about it."
"But we must talk about it," he persisted patiently. "I"ve got to show you how the thing stands, so that you can see for yourself where your misunderstanding comes in. You can"t get to the bottom of anything without more or less talk."
"Talk to yourself, then," she retorted ungraciously. And with that she ran out of the room.
But she had forgotten or underestimated the catlike quickness of her man. He caught her in the doorway, and the grip of his fingers on her arm brought a cry of pain.
"Forgive me. I didn"t mean to hurt," he said contritely. "Be a good girl, Hazel, and let"s get our feet on earth again. Sit down and put your arm around my neck and be my pal, like you used to be. We"ve got no business nursing these hard feelings. It"s folly. I haven"t committed any crime. I"ve only stood for a square deal. Come on; bury the hatchet, little person."
"Let me go," she sobbed, struggling to be free. "I h-hate you!"
"Please, little person. I can"t eat humble pie more than once or twice."
"Let me go," she panted. "I don"t want you to touch me."
"Listen to me," he said sternly. "I"ve stood about all of your nonsense I"m able to stand. I"ve had to fight a pack of business wolves to keep them from picking my carca.s.s, and, what"s more important to me, to keep them from handing a raw deal to five men who wallowed through snow and frost and all kinds of hardship to make these sharks a fortune. I"ve got down to their level and fought them with their own weapons--and the thing is settled. I said last night I"d be through here inside a week. I"m through now--through here. I have business in the Klappan; to complete this thing I"ve set my hand to. Then I"m going to the ranch and try to get the bad taste out of my mouth. I"m going to-morrow. I"ve no desire or intention to coerce you. You"re my wife, and your place is with me, if you care anything about me. And I want you. You know that, don"t you? I wouldn"t be begging you like this if I didn"t. I haven"t changed, nor had my eyes dazzled by any false G.o.ds. But it"s up to you. I don"t bluff. I"m going, and if I have to go without you I won"t come back. Think it over, and just ask yourself honestly if it"s worth while."
He drew her up close to him and kissed her on one anger-flushed cheek, and then, as he had done the night before, walked straight away to the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Hazel slept little that night. A horrid weight seemed to rest suffocatingly upon her. More than once she had an impulse to creep in there where Bill lay and forget it all in the sweep of that strong arm.
But she choked back the impulse angrily. She would not forgive him.
He had made her suffer. For his high-handedness she would make him suffer in kind. At least, she would not crawl to him begging forgiveness.
When sunrise laid a yellow beam, all full of dancing motes, across her bed, she heard Bill stir, heard him moving about the apartment with restless steps. After a time she also heard the unmistakable sound of a trunk lid thrown back, and the movements of him as he gathered his clothes--so she surmised. But she did not rise till the maid rapped on her door with the eight-o"clock salutation:
"Breakfast, ma"am."
They made a pretense of eating. Hazel sought a chair in the living-room. A book lay open in her lap. But the print ran into blurred lines. She could not follow the sense of the words. An incessant turmoil of thought hara.s.sed her. Bill pa.s.sed through the room once or twice. Determinedly she ignored him. The final snap of the lock on his trunk came to her at last, the b.u.mping sounds of its pa.s.sage to the hall. Then a burly expressman shouldered it into his wagon and drove away.
A few minutes after that Bill came in and took a seat facing her.
"What are you going to do, Hazel?" he asked soberly.
"Nothing," she curtly replied.
"Are you going to sit down and fold your hands and let our air castles come tumbling about our ears, without making the least effort to prevent?" he continued gently. "Seems to me that"s not like you at all. I never thought you were a quitter."
"I"m not a quitter," she flung back resentfully. "I refuse to be browbeaten, that"s all. There appears to be only one choice--to follow you like a lamb. And I"m not lamblike. I"d say that you are the quitter. You have stirred up all this trouble here between us. Now you"re running away from it. That"s how it looks to me. Go on! I can get along."
"I dare say you can," he commented wearily. "Most of us can muddle along somehow, no matter what happens. But it seems a pity, little person. We had all the chance in the world. You"ve developed an abnormal streak lately. If you"d just break away and come back with me. You don"t know what good medicine those old woods are. Won"t you try it a while?"
"I am not by nature fitted to lead the hermit existence," she returned sarcastically.
And even while her lips were uttering these various unworthy little bitternesses she inwardly wondered at her own words. It was not what she would have said, not at all what she was half minded to say. But a devil of perverseness spurred her. She was full of protest against everything.
"I wish we"d had a baby," Bill murmured softly. "You"d be different.
You"d have something to live for besides this frothy, neurotic existence that has poisoned you against the good, clean, healthy way of life. I wish we"d had a kiddie. We"d have a fighting chance for happiness now; something to keep us sane, something outside of our own ego to influence us."
"Thank G.o.d there isn"t one!" she muttered.
"Ah, well," Bill sighed, "I guess there is no use. I guess we can"t get together on anything. There doesn"t seem to be any give-and-take between us any longer."
He rose and walked to the door. With his hand on the k.n.o.b, he turned.
"I have fixed things at the bank for you," he said abruptly.
Then he walked out, without waiting for an answer.
She heard the soft whir of the elevator. A minute later she saw him on the sidewalk. He had an overcoat on his arm, a suit case in his hand.
She saw him lift a finger to halt a pa.s.sing car.
It seemed incredible that he should go like that. Surely he would come back at noon or at dinner time. She had always felt that under his gentleness there was iron. But deep in her heart she had never believed him so implacable of purpose where she was concerned.
She waited wearily, stirring with nervous restlessness from room to room.
Luncheon pa.s.sed. The afternoon dragged by to a close. Dusk fell. And when the night wrapped Granville in its velvet mantle, and the street lights blinked away in shining rows, she cowered, sobbing, in the big chair by the window.
He was gone.