Part 39 (1/2)

”And when I came out of the workhouse I travelled London in search of sixteen pounds a year wages, which was the least I could do with, and when I didn't find them I sat here and ate dry bread. She'll tell you--she saw it all. I haven't said nothing about the shame and sneers I had to put up with--you would understand nothing about that,--and there was more than one situation I was thrown out of when they found I had a child. For they didn't like loose women in their houses; I had them very words said about me. And while I was going through all that you was living in riches with a lady in foreign parts; and now when she could put up with you no longer, and you're kicked out, you come to me and ask for your share of the child.

Share of the child! What share is yours, I'd like to know?”

”Esther!”

”In your mean, underhand way you come here on the sly to see if you can't steal the love of the child from me.”

She could speak no more; her strength was giving way before the tumult of her pa.s.sion, and the silence that had come suddenly into the room was more terrible than her violent words. William stood quaking, horrified, wis.h.i.+ng the earth would swallow him; Mrs. Lewis watched Esther's pale face, fearing that she would faint; Jackie, his grey eyes open round, held his broken boat still in his hand. The sense of the scene had hardly caught on his childish brain; he was very frightened; his tears and sobs were a welcome intervention. Mrs. Lewis took him in her arms and tried to soothe him. William tried to speak; his lips moved, but no words came.

Mrs. Lewis whispered, ”You'll get no good out of her now, her temper's up; you'd better go. She don't know what she's a-saying of.”

”If one of us has to go,” said William, taking the hint, ”there can't be much doubt which of us.” He stood at the door holding his hat, just as if he were going to put it on. Esther stood with her back turned to him. At last he said--

”Good-bye, Jackie. I suppose you don't want to see me again?”

For reply Jackie threw his boat away and clung to Mrs. Lewis for protection. William's face showed that he was pained by Jackie's refusal.

”Try to get your mother to forgive me; but you are right to love her best.

She's been a good mother to you.” He put on his hat and went without another word. No one spoke, and every moment the silence grew more paralysing. Jackie examined his broken boat for a moment, and then he put it away, as if it had ceased to have any interest for him. There was no chance of going to the Rye that day; he might as well take off his velvet suit; besides, his mother liked him better in his old clothes. When he returned his mother was sorry for having broken his boat, and appreciated the cruelty. ”You shall have another boat, my darling,” she said, leaning across the table and looking at him affectionately; ”and quite as good as the one I broke.”

”Will you, mummie? One with three sails, cutter-rigged, like that?”

”Yes, dear, you shall have a boat with three sails.”

”When will you buy me the boat, mummie--to-morrow?”

”As soon as I can, Jackie.”

This promise appeared to satisfy him. Suddenly he looked--

”Is father coming back no more?”

”Do you want him back?”

Jackie hesitated; his mother pressed him for an answer.

”Not if you don't, mummie.”

”But if he was to give you another boat, one with four sails?”

”They don't have four sails, not them with one mast.”

”If he was to give you a boat with two masts, would you take it?”

”I should try not to, I should try ever so hard.”

There were tears in Jackie's voice, and then, as if doubtful of his power to resist temptation, he buried his face in his mother's bosom and sobbed bitterly.

”You shall have another boat, my darling.”