Out of the Primitive Part 44

"There's more than one opinion as to that."

"I tell you, this is between her and me. You'll keep out of it," said Blake, with a forcefulness that the other could not withstand. "Don't worry. You'll have your turn later on."

"Deuce take it!" cried the Englishman. "You can't fancy I'm dwelling on that! You can't think me such a cad as to be waiting for an opportunity derived from an injustice to you!"

"Injustice, _bah!_" gibed Blake. "I'll get what's coming to me. It's of her I'm thinking, not you. She was right. I'm going to tell her so.

That's all."

"But, in view of what she herself did--"

"I'll tell her the facts. That's enough," said Blake, and he led the way from the car.

He hastened out of the depot and would have started off afoot, had not Lord James hailed a taxicab and taken him and Griffith home. He went in with them, and when Blake had shaved and dressed, proposed that they should go on together as far as the hotel. To this Blake gave a sullen acquiescence, and they whirred away to the North Side. But instead of stopping at the hotel, their cab sped on out to the Lake Sh.o.r.e Drive.

Lord James coolly explained that he intended to take his friend to the door of the Leslies. Blake would have objected, but acquiesced as soon as he understood that Lord James intended to remain in the cab.

During the day the cold had moderated, and when Blake swung out of the cab he was wrapped about in the chilly embrace of a dripping wet fog from off the lake. He shivered as he hurried across and up the steps and into the stately portico of the Leslie house.

At the touch of his finger on the electric b.u.t.ton, the heavy door swung open. He was bowed in and divested of hat and raincoat by an overzealous footman before he could protest. Silent and frowning, he was ushered to a door that he had not before entered. The footman announced him and drew the curtains together behind him.

Still frowning, Blake stepped forward and stopped short to stare about him at the resplendent room of gold and ivory enamel that he had entered. Only at the second glance did he perceive the graceful figure that had risen from the window-seat at the far end of the room and stood in a startled att.i.tude, gazing fixedly at him.

Before he could speak, Genevieve came toward him with impetuous swiftness, her hands outstretched in more than cordial welcome.

"Tom! Is it really you?" she exclaimed. "I had not looked for you back so soon."

"It's somewhat sooner than I expected myself," he replied, with a bitter humor that should have forewarned her.

But she was too relieved and delighted to heed either his tone or his failure to clasp her hands, "Yes. You know, I've been so worried. You really looked ill Sunday, and I thought Lord James' manner that evening was rather odd--I mean when I spoke to him about you."

"Shouldn't wonder," said Blake in a harsh voice. "Jimmy had been there before. He knew."

"Knew? You mean--?" The girl stepped back a little way and gazed up into his face, startled and anxious. "Tom, you _have_ been sick--very sick! How could I have been so blind as not to have seen it at once?

You've been suffering terribly!"

Again she held out her hands to him, and again he failed to take them.

"Don't touch me," he replied. "I'm not fit. It's true I've suffered. Do you wonder? I've been in h.e.l.l again--where I belong."

"Tom! oh, Tom!--no, no!" she whispered, and she averted her face, unable to endure the black despair that she saw in his unflinching eyes.

"Jimmy and old Grif, between them, managed to catch me when I was under full headway," he explained. "They stopped me and took me up to the Michamac Bridge. I'm on my feet again now. Just the same, I went under, and if it hadn't been for them, I'd be beastly, roaring drunk this minute."

"No, Tom! It's impossible--impossible! I can't believe it!"

"Think I'd lie about a little thing like that?" he asked with the terrible levity of utter despair.

"But it's--it's so awful!"

"I've known funnier jokes. G.o.d! D'you think I've done much laughing over being smashed for good? It's rid you of a drunken degenerate. It's you who ought to laugh. How about me? I've lost _you!_ G.o.d!"

He bent over, with his chin on his breast and his big fists clenched down at his sides.

She stared at him, dazed, almost stunned by the shock. Only after what seemed an age of waiting could she find words for the stress of bitter disappointment and mortified love that drove the blood to her heart and left her white and dizzy.

"Then--you have--failed. You _are_--weak!" she at last managed to say.

Simple as were the words, the tone in which they were spoken was enough for Blake.

"Yes," he answered, and he swung about toward the door.

"Have you no excuses--no defence?" she demanded.

"I might lay it to that wine at the church--and prove myself still weaker," said Blake.

"The holy communion!" she reproached.

"I never made fun even of a Chinaman's religion," he said. "Just the same, if I don't believe a thing, I don't lie and let on I do. I told you that wine meant nothing to me in a religious way. But even if it had, I don't think it would have made any difference. Drop nitric acid on the altar rail, and it will eat the bra.s.s just the same as if it was in a bra.s.s foundry. Put alcohol inside me, and the craving starts up full blast."

"Then you believe I should excuse--"

"No," he interrupted with grim firmness. "I might have thought it then--but not now. I've had two days to think it over. It all comes down to this: If, knowing how you felt about it, I could not kneel there beside you and take that taste of wine without going under, I'm just what you suspected--weak, unfit."

She clasped her hands on her bosom. "You--admit it?"

"What's the use of lying about it?" he said. "If it hadn't come about that way, you can see now it was bound to happen some other way."

"I--suppose--yes. Oh! but it's horrible!--horrible! I thought you so strong!"

"I won't bother you any more," he muttered. "Good-bye."

He went out without venturing a glance at her white face. She waited, motionless, looking toward the spot where he had stood. Several moments pa.s.sed before she seemed to realize that he had gone.

CHAPTER XXIII

A REPRIEVE

Lord James did not call upon Genevieve until late afternoon of the next day, and then he did not come alone. He had called first upon Mrs.

Gantry and Dolores, who brought him on in their coupe.

Genevieve came down to them noticeably pale and with dark shadows under her fine eyes, but her manner was, if anything, rather more composed than usual. She even had a smile to exchange for the gay greeting of Dolores. Mrs. Gantry met her with a kiss a full degree more fervent than was consistent with strict decorum.

"My dear child!" she exclaimed. "I have hastened over to see you. Lord Avondale has told me all about that fellow."

"Yes?" asked Genevieve, looking at Lord James calmly but with a slight lift of her eyebrows that betrayed her astonishment.