Part 21 (2/2)

Walter G.o.ddard was a man at least forty years of age. He had been thought very handsome once. He had light blue eyes and a fair skin with flaxen hair--now cropped short and close to his head. There was nearly a fortnight's growth of beard upon his face, but it was not yet sufficient to hide his mouth and chin. He had formerly worn a heavy moustache and it was chiefly the absence of it which now made it hard for his wife to recognise him. A battered hat, drenched and dripping with rain, shaded his brows. Possibly he was ashamed to remove it. His mouth was small and weak and his jaw was pointed. His whole expression was singularly disagreeable--his hands were filthy, and his face was not clean. About his neck was twisted a ragged woollen comforter, and he wore a smock-frock which was now soaked with water and clung to his thin figure.

He devoured the food his wife had brought him, s.h.i.+vering from time to time as though he were still cold.

Mrs. G.o.ddard watched him in silence. She had done mechanically according to her first instinct, had led him in and had given him food. But she had not recovered herself sufficiently from her first horror and astonishment to realise her situation. At last she spoke.

”How did you escape?” she asked. He bent lower than before, over his plate and would not look at her.

”Don't ask me,” he answered shortly.

”Why did you do it?” she inquired again. G.o.ddard laughed harshly; his voice was hoa.r.s.e and cracked.

”Why did I do it!” he repeated. ”Did you ever hear of any one who would not escape from prison if he had the chance? Don't look at me like that, Mary--”

”I am sorry for you,” she said.

”You don't seem very glad to see me,” he answered roughly. ”I might have known it.”

”Yes, you might have known it.”

It seemed a very hard and cruel thing to say, and Mary G.o.ddard was very far from being a cruel woman by nature; but she was stunned by fear and disgust and horrified by the possibilities of harm suddenly brought before her.

G.o.ddard pushed his plate away and leaned his elbows upon the table supporting his chin in his hands. He scowled at her defiantly.

”You have given me a warm reception, after nearly three years of--separation.” There was a bitter sneer in the word.

”I am horrified to see you here,” she said simply. ”You know very well that I cannot conceal you--”

”Oh, I don't expect miracles,” said G.o.ddard contemptuously. ”I don't know that, when I came here, I expected to cause you any particularly agreeable sensation. I confess, when a woman has not seen her beloved husband for three years, one might expect her to show a little feeling--”

”I will do what I can for you, Walter,” said his wife, whose unnatural calm was fast yielding to an overpowering agitation.

”Then give me fifty pounds and tell me the nearest way east,” answered the convict savagely.

”I have not got fifty pounds in the house,” protested Mary G.o.ddard, in some alarm. ”I never keep much money--I can get it for you--”

”I have a great mind to look,” returned her husband suspiciously. ”How soon can you get it?”

”To-morrow night--the time to get a cheque cashed--”

”So you keep a banker's account?”

”Of course. But a cheque would be of no use to you--I wish it were!”

”Naturally you do. You would get rid of me at once.” Suddenly his voice changed. ”Oh, Mary--you used to love me!” cried the wretched man, burying his face in his hands.

”I was very wrong,” answered his wife, looking away from him. ”You did not deserve it--you never did.”

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