"I can imagine how Mr. Bland would look if he heard you," she said.
"He"d only smile in a superior manner," Lawanne declared. "You couldn"t get Bland fussed up by any mere a.s.sertion. The only thing that would stir him deeply would be a direct a.s.sault on that vague abstraction which he calls his honor--or on his property. Then he would very likely smite the wrongdoer with all the efficiency of outraged virtue."
Hollister continued to muse on this after Lawanne went away. He thought Lawanne"s summing up a trifle severe. Nevertheless it was a pretty clear statement of fact. Bland certainly seemed above working either for money or to secure a reasonable degree of comfort for himself and his wife. He sat waiting for a windfall to restore his past splendor of existence, which he sometimes indirectly admitted meant cricket, a country home, horses and dogs, a whirl among the right sort of people in London now and then. That sort of thing and that sort of man was what Myra had fallen in love with. Hollister felt a mild touch of contempt for them both.
His wife had also let her thoughts focus on the Blands.
"I wonder," she said, "if they are so very poor? Why don"t you offer Bland a job? Maybe he is too proud to ask."
Bland was not too proud to ask for certain things, it seemed. About a week later he came to Hollister and in a most casual manner said, "I say, old man, can you let me have a hundred dollars? My quarterly funds are delayed a bit."
Hollister gave him the money without question. As he watched Bland stride away through the light blanket of snow, and a little later noticed him disappear among the thickets and stumps going towards the Carr camp, where supplies were sold as a matter of accommodation rather than for profit, Hollister reflected that there was a mild sort of irony in the transaction. He wondered if Myra knew of her husband"s borrowing. If she had any inkling of the truth, how would she feel?
For he knew that Myra was proud, sensitive, independent in spirit far beyond her capacity for actual independence. If she even suspected his ident.i.ty, the borrowing of that money would surely sting her. But Hollister put that notion aside.
For a long time Myra had ceased to trouble him with the irritating uncertainty of their first meetings. She apparently accepted him and his mutilated face as part of Doris Hollister"s background and gave him no more thought or attention. Always in the little gatherings at his house Hollister contrived to keep in the shadow, to be an onlooker rather than a partic.i.p.ant,--just as Charlie Mills did. Hollister was still sensitive about his face. He was doubly sensitive because he dreaded any comment upon his disfigurement reaching his wife"s ears.
He had succeeded so well in thus effacing himself that Myra seemed to regard him as if he were no more than a grotesque bit of furniture to which she had become accustomed. All the sense of sinister possibilities in her presence, all that uneasy dread of her nearness, that consciousness of her as an impending threat, had finally come to seem nothing more than mere figments of his imagination. Especially since their son was born. That seemed to establish the final bond between himself and Doris. Myra, the past which so poignantly included Myra, held less and less significance. He could look at Myra and wonder if this _was_ the same woman he had held in his arms, whose kisses had been freely and gladly bestowed upon him; if all the pa.s.sion and pain of their life together, of their tearing apart, had ever really been. He had got so far beyond that it seemed unreal. And lately there had settled upon him a surety that to Myra it must all be just as unreal--that she could not possibly harbor any suspicion that he was her legal husband, hiding behind a mask of scars--and that even if she did suspect, that suspicion could never be translated into action which could deflect ever so slightly the current of his present existence.
He was working at the chute mouth when Bland came to ask for that loan. He continued to work there. Not long after he noticed Bland leave his own house and go down the flat, he saw Myra coming along the bank. That was nothing. There was a well-beaten path there that she traveled nearly every afternoon. He felt his first tentative misgiving when he saw that Myra did not stop at the house, that she walked past and straight towards where he worked. And this slight misgiving grew to a certainty of impending trouble when she came up, when she faced him. Movement and the crisp air had kindled a glow in her cheeks. But something besides the winter air had kindled an almost unnatural glow in her eyes. They were like dusky pansies. She was, he thought, with curious self-detachment, a strikingly beautiful woman. And he recalled that anger or excitement, any emotion that stirred her, always made her seem more alluring, always made her glow and sparkle as if in such moments she was a perfect human jewel, flashing in the sun of life.
She nodded to Hollister, looked down on the cedar blocks floating in the cold river, stood a moment to watch the swift descent of other bolts hurtling down the chute and joining their fellows with successive splashes.
"You let Jim have some money this morning?" she said then; it was a statement as much as an interrogation.
"Yes," Hollister replied.
"Don"t let him have any more," she said bluntly. "You may never get it back. Why should you supply him with money that you"ve worked for when he won"t make any effort to get it for himself? You"re altogether too free-handed, Robin."
Hollister stood speechless. She looked at him with a curious half-amused expectancy. She knew him. No one but Myra had ever called him that. It had been her pet name for him in the old days. She knew him. He leaned on his pike pole, waiting for what was to follow. This revelation was only a preliminary. Something like a dumb fury came over Hollister. Why did she reveal this knowledge of him? For what purpose? He felt his secure foundations crumbling.
"So you recognize me?"
"Did you think I wouldn"t?" she said slowly. "Did you think your only distinguishing characteristic was the shape of your face? I"ve been sure of it for months."
"Ah," he said. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing. Nothing. What is there to do?"
"Then why reveal this knowledge?" he demanded harshly. "Why drag out the old skeleton and rattle it for no purpose? Or have you some purpose?"
Myra sat down on a fallen tree. She drew the folds of a heavy brown coat closer about her and looked at him steadily.
"No," she replied. "I can"t say that I have any definite purpose except--that I want to talk to you. And it seemed that I could talk to you better if we stopped pretending. We can"t alter facts by pretending they don"t exist, can we?"
"I don"t attempt to alter them," he said. "I accept them and let it go at that. Why don"t you?"
"I do," she a.s.sured him, "but when I find myself compelled to accept your money to pay for the ordinary necessaries of living, I feel myself being put in an intolerable position. I suppose you won"t understand that. I imagine you think of me as a selfish little beast who has no scruples about anything. But I"m not quite like that. It galls me to have Jim borrow from you. He may intend to pay it back.
But he won"t; it will somehow never be quite convenient. And I"ve squandered enough of your money. I feel like a thief sometimes when I watch you work. You must hate me. Do you, Robin?"
Hollister stirred the snow absently with the pike-pole point. He tried to a.n.a.lyze his feelings, and he found it difficult.
"I don"t think so," he said at last. "I"m rather indifferent. If you meddled with things I"d not only hate you, I think I would want to destroy you. But you needn"t worry about the money. If Bland doesn"t repay the hundred dollars it won"t break me. I won"t lend him any more if it disturbs you. But that doesn"t matter. The only thing that matters is whether you are going to upset everything in some rash mood that you may sometime have."
"Do you think I might do that?"
"How do I know what you may do?" he returned. "You threw me into the discard when your fancy turned to some one else. You followed your own bent with a certain haste as soon as I was reported dead. I had ceased to be man enough for you, but my money was still good enough for you.
When I recall those things, I think I can safely say that I haven"t the least idea what you may do next. You aren"t faring any too well.
That"s plain enough. I have seen men raise Cain out of sheer devilishness, out of a desperate notion to smash everything because they were going to smash themselves. Some people seem able to amuse themselves by watching other people squirm. Maybe you are like that.
You had complete power over me once. I surrendered to that gladly, then. You appear to have a faculty of making men dance to any tune you care to play. But all the power you have now, so far as I"m concerned, is to make me suffer a little more by giving the whole ugly show away.
No, I haven"t the least idea what you may do. I don"t know you at all."
"My G.o.d, no, you don"t," she flung out. "You don"t. If you ever had, we wouldn"t be where we are now."
"Probably it"s as well," Hollister returned. "Even if you had been true, you"d have faltered when I came back looking like this."
"And that would have been worse than what I did do," she said, "wouldn"t it?"
"Are you justifying it as an act of mercy to me?" he asked.
Myra shook her head.
"No. I don"t feel any great necessity for justifying my actions. No more than you should feel compelled to justify yours. We have each only done what normal human beings frequently do when they get torn loose from the moorings they know and are moved by forces within them and beyond them, forces which bewilder and dismay them. The war and your idea of duty, of service, pried us apart. Natural causes--natural enough when I look back at them--did the rest. We all want to be happy. We all grab at that when it comes within reach. That"s all you and I have done. We will probably continue doing that the same as every one else."
"I have it," Hollister said defiantly. "That is why I don"t want any ghosts of the old days haunting me now."
"If you have, you are very fortunate," she murmured. "But don"t leave your wife alone in a city throbbing with the fevered excitement and uncertainty of war, where every one"s motto is a short life and a merry one! Not if she"s young and hot-blooded, if she has grown so accustomed to affection and caresses that the want of them afflicts her with a thirst like that of a man lost in a desert. Because if she has nothing to do but live from day to day on memories and hopes, there will be a time when some man at hand will obscure the figure of the absent one. That is all that happened to me, Robin. I longed for you. Then I began to resent your complete absorption by the war machine. Then you got dim, like the figure of a man walking away down a long road. Do you remember how it was? Leave once in six months or so. A kiss of welcome and a good-by right on its heels. There were thousands like me in London. The war took our men--but took no account of us. We were untrained. There were no jobs to occupy our hands--none we could put our hearts into--none that could be gotten without influence in the proper quarters. We couldn"t pose successfully enough to persuade ourselves that it was a glorious game. They had taken our men, and there was nothing much left. We did not have to earn our keep. If you had only not stuck so closely to the front lines."
"I had to," Hollister said sharply. "I had no choice. The country----"
"The country! That shadowy phantasm--that recruiting sergeant"s plea--that political abstraction that is flung in one"s face along with other plat.i.tudes from every platform," Myra broke out pa.s.sionately. "What does it really mean? What did it mean to us? Men going out to die. Women at home crying, eating their hearts out with loneliness, going bad now and then in recklessness, in desperation.
Army contractors getting rich. Ammunition manufacturers getting rich.
Transportation companies paying hundred per cent. dividends. One nation grabbing for territory here, another there. Talk of saving the world for democracy and in the same breath throttling liberty of speech and action in every corner of the world. And now that it"s all over, everything is the same, only worse. The rich are richer and the poor poorer, and there are some new national boundaries and some blasted military and political reputations. That"s all. What was that to you and me? Nothing. Less than nothing. Yet it tore our lives up by the roots. It took away from us something we had that we valued, something that we might have kept. It doesn"t matter that you were sincere, that you wanted to serve, that you thought it a worthy service. The big people, the men who run things, they had no such illusions; they had their eye on the main chance all the time. It paid them--if not in money then in prestige and power. How has it paid you?
You know, every time you look in a mirror. You know that the men that died were the lucky ones. The country that marched them to the front with speeches and music when the guns were talking throws them on the sc.r.a.pheap when they come back maimed. I have no faith in a country that takes so much and gives a little so grudgingly. I"ve learned to think, Robin, and perhaps it has warped me a little. You have suffered. So have I, partly because I was ignorant of the nature I was born with, which you didn"t understand and which I"m only myself beginning to understand--but mostly because the seats of the mighty were filled by fools and hypocrites seeking their own advantage. Oh, life is a dreary business sometimes! We want so to be happy. We try so hard. And mostly we fail."
Her eyes filled with tears, round drops that gathered slowly in the corners of her puckered lids and spilled over the soft curves of her cheek. She did not look at Hollister. She stared at the gray river.
She made a little gesture, as if she dumbly answered some futile question, and her hands dropped idly into her lap.
"I feel guilty," she continued after a little, "not because I failed to play up to the role of the faithful wife. I couldn"t help that. But I shouldn"t have kept that money, I suppose. Still, you were dead.
Money meant nothing to you. It was in my hands and I needed it, or thought I did. You must have had a hard time, Robin, coming back to civil life a beggar."
"Yes, but not for lack of money," Hollister replied. "I didn"t need much and I had enough. It was being scarred so that everybody shunned me. It was the horror of being alone, of finding men and women always uneasy in my presence, always glad to get away from me. They acted as if I were a monstrosity that offended them beyond endurance. I couldn"t blame them much. Sometimes it gave me the shivers to look at myself in the gla.s.s. I am a horrible sight. People who must be around me seem to get used to me, whether they like it or not. But at first I nearly went mad. I had been uprooted and disfigured. n.o.body wanted to know me, to talk to me, to be friendly. However, that"s past. I have got a start. Unless this skeleton is dragged out of the closet, I shall get on well enough."
"I shall not drag it out, Robin," she a.s.sured him with a faint smile.
"Some day I hope I"ll be able to give you back that money."
"What became of it?" He voiced a question which had been recurring in his mind for a year. "You must have had over forty thousand dollars when I was reported dead in "17."
Myra shrugged her shoulders.
"We were married six months after that. Jim has some rather well-to-do people over there. They were all very nice to me. I imagine they thought he was marrying money. Perhaps he thought so himself. He had nothing except a quarterly pittance. He has no sense of values, and I was not much better. There is always this estate which he will come into, to discount the present. He had seen service the first year of the war. He was wounded and invalided home. Then he served as a military instructor. Finally, when the Americans came in, he was allowed to resign. So we came across to the States. We went here and there, spending as we went. We cut a pretty wide swath too, most of the time. There were several disastrous speculations. Presently the money was all gone. Then we came up here, where we can live on next to nothing. We shall have to stay here another eighteen months. Looking back, the way we spent money seems sheer lunacy. The fool and his money--you know. And it wasn"t our money. That hurts me now. I"ve begun to realize what money means to me, to you, to every one. That"s why when Jim calmly told me that he had borrowed a hundred dollars from you I felt that was a little more than I could stand. That"s piling it on. I wondered why you gave it to him--if you let him have it in a spirit of contemptuous charity. I might have known it wasn"t that. But don"t lend him any more. He really doesn"t need it.